We thought it was empty,
Until we stepped inside.
The broken dreams and shattered hearts,
The cries of despair,
Lingering spirits reminding us oth their existance.

Empty little down,
Sad little town,
Desolated, destroyed little town.

Sweet little shadows,
Tender little spirits,
Guiding us through the ruin.

They never saw it coming,
Their surprise fate,
Seizied upon them while at play.

Blink of an eye,
Gone in a flash,
Nothing left,
No future, only past.

Speakin’ in general, I’ave tried ’em all
The ‘appy roads that take you o’er the world.
Speakin’ in general, I’ave found them good
For such as cannot use one bed too long,
But must get ‘ence, the same as I’ave done,
An’ go observin’ matters till they die.

What do it matter where or ‘ow we die,
So long as we’ve our ‘ealth to watch it all—
The different ways that different things are done,
An’ men an’ women lovin’ in this world;
Takin’ our chances as they come along,
An’ when they ain’t, pretendin’ they are good?

In cash or credit—no, it aren’t no good;
You’ve to ‘ave the ‘abit or you’d die,
Unless you lived your life but one day long,
Nor didn’t prophesy nor fret at all,
But drew your tucker some’ow from the world,
An’ never bothered what you might ha’ done.

But, Gawd, what things are they I’aven’t done?
I’ve turned my ‘and to most, an’ turned it good,
In various situations round the world
For ‘im that doth not work must surely die;
But that’s no reason man should labour all
‘Is life on one same shift—life’s none so long.

Therefore, from job to job I’ve moved along.
Pay couldn’t ‘old me when my time was done,
For something in my ‘ead upset it all,
Till I’ad dropped whatever ’twas for good,
An’, out at sea, be’eld the dock-lights die,
An’ met my mate—the wind that tramps the world!

It’s like a book, I think, this bloomin, world,
Which you can read and care for just so long,
But presently you feel that you will die
Unless you get the page you’re readi’n’ done,
An’ turn another—likely not so good;
But what you’re after is to turn’em all.

Gawd bless this world! Whatever she’oth done—
Excep’ When awful long—I’ve found it good.
So write, before I die, ” ‘E liked it all!”

Please*              Open and see

                                       Sweet            ­Dreams
                                   No! Don´t worry, gone will
                                 be the ni gh tmare s.. . when you
                                 turn  ar oun d, an oth er dream
                                    will imme dia tely come...
                                       I have an eye on you
                                            all night long.
                                   From my seat, you can´t
                               really hear  me.  I´m sure you  
                         you won´t. But you should seriously
            know that I´m always here. Noth ing will happen
           to you ... I´m yo ur guardian ... bu t not an ordinary
             one. I´m the                                    sweet little...
                 Teddy                                                  **Bear­

Most bi*  r  ds call me ugly but
   I'm be  a  utiful & intelligent
     than  v  ultures and most of
  all oth  e  r birds gracing
   the ve  n  *etian skies

i:
feel like nothing
like am nothing
nor was ever anything
nor will amount to something
insides:
scooped out like a melon
leaving a great gaping void
in the center of my chest
e m p t y
of thought, action, motivation,
drained of energy
of life of joy
of everything
e    m       t     y
of identity
e                     y
in heart
body
mind
soul
d
i
  s
   i
    n
     t
      e
       g
        r
         a
          t
          (i)nto
           (n)oth
         in(g).

Prepare for cocktails
Blue versus green ink
******* tape sits so carefully in the corner
My eyes so heavy but unwilling to slumber.
Sleeping such a chore, but once my eyes are so closed
The light from my windows egg me on.
As I heard myself whimper and coo your name
As though searching, looking for you
Through a walkie talkie
Or a paper cup connected through string
But I knew at the end,
I would never hear your
Answering.

Kitty cat slumbers on 3 suitcases
As I recall how you didn't want to hear my mind
My philosophy
"Have you played out all the scenarios in your mind?"
It never goes the way I fantasize.

Perhaps you won't show up
With your scraggly beard and worn down clothes
A hobo clown, the damsels and I would jest
A silver screen starlet
I imagine us arm in arm
Neck to neck
Tied and tangled
Because neither of us can seem to forget.

Those blue depths I would plummet into
With a short blonde bob
I would cry and cry when your skin
Left mine
I would cry and cry
When I felt neglected by you
Night by night.

But there is something different in the air
Something different in the sea
Something so ******* different in me

"We love each other"
I can almost hear myself say
Lingerie mirroring my face
But just because we love each other
That doesn't make us right for each other
I would so famously,
Say.

I wonder if your knock, kn-kn--kno-knock-knock
Will pound a few times on my door
Like you use to before
When we would laugh and laugh
We never grew bored.

Cat nip and our own fantastical fumes
I was your crack for a while, you still exclaim
I hope I leave you with withdrawal
Always.


But I digress
The cat on all those suitcases--
She soon will belong to another
The suitcases--They will be stacked and packed
Rolling on carpeted floors
A fedora on my head
And new opening doors.

The Goodbye Dinner
You would look at me with that coy
Icicle heart fire grin
As I remember all the times I tried to erase
That face from my mind.

I don't try anymore
I don't fight anymore
I don't erase anymore
I just live.

Maybe this is dumb
Maybe this is the stupidest thing I've ever done
Maybe we are ******* so dumb
"But we love each oth--"
I start to hear myself say, in my day dream
Of us on a roof top
Unable to escape


And then I remember,
I go my own way.

It is with the simplicity of a single sheet of paper that these words are coming out of me.

None at all.  

Struggling, aching with potential.
Clouding the emptiness, growing heavier.
Getting so heavy.
Bursting forth, victoriously impulsive and unprepared.
Leaping!

Falling from the lips, and dying, too fragile to endure
the critical gaze of the beautiful.

The senten ces be gin to break apart into syllab les
and then in
to
lett
ers

the     substance of
m   y
int       er actions wi th
oth    ers

dying


in

t
h


e


**mud.

Benine benine be nine seven

crap. Betcha two more more mores for
one more chance at that

Aha! We imagined…

… mean pause if then else ifthen else to the tenth,
take it
don't missit, these thinks happen

rare, raw and dripping re

ish itch tar Ishtar and two snakes

while, recall, Moses, lawgiver and guide,
trumping Lycurgis's lawgiver only,

Moses had one for every eye to see or die
and one for every other heel to stomp.

Old Arizona Cowboy Preacher Proverb
Some times… ya'hafta…stomp yer own (goes unsaid)
[dam'd] snakes.
[ever bodies gottem by the plenty]

One of the Robin Clan of whitemanlan
Theodds, down the Hasayampa
Odd fellows, I remember there was a lodge…

… also means, when no point persists in being made despite the el-elucidation,
light's prime directive clarifying

the principal paring of time to the tenth and
you dear reader, if temporary times are

familiar, to you. Like, family,
a truncated simile metaphor word compact,

like jot family, familiar, family spirit,

house gods and goblins and lit-t'le ***-p'le in blue triangular hats,

… selah … be still … listen … listen

no threats of madness, nor vengeance or conviction
no act-use-ations fraying threads

neither curse nor cuse nor demn 'r'here,
life-central,
pretend you can practice real is ation

as you read. Dear reader, you are magi,
you know words hold powers, yours
for the reaaching beyond,

trust me, errors are far fewer than you have been led to believe.
Entire cultures set spelled-out prophecies swirling
into imagined infinity
withnaryaperiodjotortittle with no discernible weakening

of the original thread of thought that has us taking
these chances with madness

Philosopher Poet Sophist Cabalist Prospering-liarist

Hawthorne's Man in Black works for Sam Harris's God's
Master Baiter

--- not off track, side-tracked, to let two-way traffic happen---
---flowing systems, despite inevitable turmoil swirling
---this way and that--- cloud shape oaks framed in
twisting, tugging, pulling-pushing, lifting-dropping,

rocking-rolling, the old man is snoring
clapping and clanging waking the dead

oh, wait. not yet. wink. Swallow the bait.

see these threads, these delicate xylem tunnels,
cellulose cathedrals, when you see re-al close,
and, watch this, oak-speed,
California Black Oak speed and deegree of strain
zingle point
a branch maywillshallcanbe tugging a reaching out
rootical radial fractaling famous form

seen in silhouette
California Black Oaks are the Cumulus Nimbi of trees,
in my tiny bubble
five hundred drys gone by pushing cool away so
there ain't
no mo' mo'nin' dew

Woe, blues is fo' some oth ah time. You see.
We make peace here.

This is is our family farm or fact-or-knoting
Knott's Berry Farm being the birthplace of Boysenberries
has always seemed prophetic to me,

here's why, no wu wu, jus'thefax. done d'done done, now

Henry Boysen.
A chapter. AND nada. Same with Paul Lomasny, as
portrayed by Sal Mineo, in The Longest Day.

Despite the scars he had to show, I haven't found his
cred fact checkible, these days

that means
conspiracy, though spiracy sans con is also rumored

probable, should there be another

anti matter bubble develop in the biome blowing bubbles
from gmos bonding

with swallowed double bubble
and in'n'out doubledoubles

in the guts of children returning from a day with
a de-programmed boomer

relativity plays a roll. Snake eyes. Wanna bet?

i wish i could ******* like a stephen king once in a while, but then my imagination sometimes gets a kick in the **** from delusional thinking, this the antidote to "a lack of imagination," this the artistic equivalence to a magician's trick, the illusionary works of sawing a woman in half; the many times i spilled some whisky on it... it happens... it happens so automatically that it's sometimes terrifying; now to find that cognitive anchor... ah, here it is: i.*

th- following l-tt-rs hav- b--om- -isabl--

e
c
d
3 / ω

on my k-yboar-,
h-n- th- hyph-nation.

p-rhaps to slow m- -own,
or what-v-r r-ason th-r- is to it,
-onstru-ting a n-w -nigma?

so th- r-ason w-str-n so-i-ty is
-xp-ri-n-ing
a flux of pr-matur- --m-ntia
is --u to population siz-

an- th- young on-s b-ing for---
into a -ompl-x worl-
of s-rious maths an s-rious -h-mistry:
so mu-h th-ory
an- th-n only giv-n bor--om among
banaliti-s of r-p-at r-p-at -
-ompl-x th-ori-s
to b- thrown into a worl- of -istill-ri-s

whisk-y an- vo-ka typos of
form-r -ompl-xiti-s
r-quiring p-rfum-s to say th- l-ast... -st-rs:
sw--t aromati- -h-mistry.

but from th- -r-am worl-:
1. paint s-otlan- with 3 r-- strip-s
2. paint -nglan- with 3 blu- strip-s
3. op-n a win- bottl- with a mat-hsti-k
    an- fin- -arth in th- bottl-: mu--y
    grit, soil.
4. ov-r h-ar talk of my -at-gorisation
    of th- anglo-slav; as a -hat up lin-.

o-- thing is... it's only th- lin-
      3 / £
             E
               D
                 C

t--hnophob- m-, th- oth-r 3 works though...
on th- mobil-:
                        7 8 9
                        4 5 6
                        1 2 3.

Hath questioned we all, to be or nay,
For to be's, a dare to which hardships face,
To battle'st what demons bred day and day,
The blood 'oth our guards we inevitably taste,
In hopes dreaded will may hone value some day...
And for nay, a cowardly escape, yet speaks of ease,
Yet alas ar'th we scare greater by nays than be's.

It's so hard not to equate my worth with my beauty
I wish I could rip off my skin and my bones and muscles so that the only thing left was my brain
My thoughts
My love
My spirit
I hope we end up like that somehow in the end...***** of energy that emulate our spirit
The way we saw the world
The way we tried

I feel like I'm wasting time
Being sad over things I know aren't tangible and connected to my worth
It's so hard to separate my brain from what I was brought up to believe
I've learned that if my stomach is flat enough and skin is clear enough that everyone will like me

(They will. It's true.) Everyone falls in love with a beautiful person a little bit
As if they did something to deserve or create their physical appearance
The only thing that happened to create them is animalistic

We are all animals in the end
Reduced to dust, funneled through plants, eaten by animals, who are eaten by something bigger
A vicious cycle of death and rebirth
There is nothing left for us. Our minds have created a world soft enough to tread through; protected by gods and love and kindness

If you're really a nice person, you'll be rewarded
There is no reward. There is no secret. We are all here to exist and make the most of it
I'm not making the most of it. I'm sitting and dealing with oth(my)ers expectations
I'm going through stress to make my life harder
For what?
Acceptance? To get along with other animals?
We all start, act, and end the same; as animals.

We're not as much apart as we are broken to the core
The blood upon my hands is somehow covered up in yours
And if I turn to water you will never want to drink
Then let me be forsaken by the thoughts in which I sink
I told you all my secrets both in person and in soul
But I can't be responsible for where you long to go
It's only in the stillness that I conjure up the words  
To tell you that I loved you in a way I wasn't sure
I've asked the time to grant us more than we could ever bear
So I would have a chance to make it up to you, I swear
The past cannot be changed and so the future goes astray
but I don't want to tempt you to just walk the other way
For I can bathe in showers that are hotter than you make
But if you fall asleep then I'm the only one awake

you spoke so highly of the
unique
charm
of your city. i went out tonight
to find it.

i didn’t find it.

your city is
the same
as all the others.

streetlamps,
licking
their yellow tongues
into every infected puddle
and street gutter
- the same.

the stench of homelessness,
pouncing
from blankets
huddled together in
bank doorways
- the same.

bus stop prostitutes,
scavenging
for a warm
place to
sleep
- the same.

vacuous chatter,
swarming
through the cracks of
another
bar
- the same.

hometown heroes,
snorting and grunting
over possession of a woman
in their own trojan war
alley brawl
- the same.

intoxicated lovers,
wooing each oth
er with there wooz
y may
ting dnace
- the same.

two a.m. loneliness,
limping
back
to
my
hotel
alone
- the same.

your city is
the same
as all the others.

Grow win groan… mark off/28jul2022, upgrades check…
I  said I would, if I believed I could, gain, that actual
ever interest turning every fifty years, on unpaid
Jubilees among the feeble minded,
all of the people, some of the time.
- Interesting times, since ever I was aware
- compounding mistakes as hates, oy vey
- Travail, travel, wanderer drawn away
- Covid positive
by an un-listed wind,
an anomoly
on a nano
scale
- not that either, I lost count, yes
weight as value - {always} a war making ideas heavy,
salt thirsting from inside the wall, the system
makes the body drink so I may think, all is well
with my soul.
Weight-wise, I am alive,
worth then is measured
in might as might may prove choice of - el, yes, well
el, we all nod, we find the sound early to disting-wish

so. way say it, we are right our way, we drink
from our own wells, tanks we make, when we may.
We save on the surface the sheen, squinting eye tech
see in snow pieces of eight,

right
-- self assembling nano tech with a
built
in
programing language. But, I add, in my mind
but, on or off- but on, in breath
the living things are
running programs
built. Built in ifery ever, if the system forms,
the system must be activated or nothing occurs
to you to
bring
life
--- I'm not clear, is right conscience or conscious, with use
of science sense signals set
to know
when
intentional design is a tribe ID-word.
- we designed this thing we are in, or on, or about/
- maybe
(rules against saying intelligent design rule the teacher,
not the peacemaker, being minded to know all the magi-tech,
and more, when it comes to rules
in love and war, life,
per se, ain't fair.
Pay the piper and the mind that tuned the whistle
in my denture
to this peculiar signal)

morought-othephic resonance vector infection- Þ
check
genome editing crisper- thorny issue
check
Þ
humanizing pigs, honest.
craig ventor lifemaker?
He is known
for leading the first draft sequence
of the human genome
- using a mind formed after the bomb.
- there is a mark in time, for each first time.

tools, yeast synthesis, is this a war?
Physical war being planned
against our eukariotic soul mother, brother

is this
from Wonderbread,
an antibiotic problem or mere remaining wrong ideas?
Is it like…
cancer - or Chaucer in the shade, as the lackeys towed that
barque, 'n'**'st that bale, bo andoncha know
nobody steals a $400 bale o' good Montana hay for no reason…
there was a needle in that role,
a piercing maddening cross-referrent occurrence implicated
as interference pre'ferencing prefer not all you wish,
pre-referencing the author's op-own imagined experience…
meaninglessness is hard to market.
- I already read the writing on the wall metaphor
- I know the names I'll find, I just
- can't remember those two.

---checksums all the way down if/then/else
find a way to live.
Identify the man you were, read him in.
When he's his old, he'll seal the exploit.
Cancer decides, for itself,
that's all I can make from the confusion here,

there must be some kinda way outa here

You recall, said the Joker, to The Thief
meaningful work.
Guiding to death.
Shall I solve your meaningless ness, or my own?
Or might I

find the meaning built in,
that black box with the built in
programing language that
Singularity University guy said is so important,
the built in
programing language that
is so important,
the built in
programing language that
is so important,
the built in
programing language that


… interest, drew me, what drew you?
compounding
Life. Me, too.
Divine interest in life, especially the mortal aspect,
as pertains to life and godliness and all,
that came with this acceptance
of dominion, within the bubble I am pre-pressured
with somewhere
- so excited- jumpy-ohshit-spot
- runs
between plumb and puredy **** sure.

Having entered again the as-if realm, that m on the end of real

means money maybe maybe not knot ex-acted
see
a door? a narrow way few see? mmmm
Follow or flee, ennui, as for me,
I believe I've heard treasure is truth.

I dare be, yond all I ever knew, to make answer-able
prayers. I be for no other reason my reasonability
allows, but to trouble the water and watch it settle
- silver screen in the thymus meme-ory device
Sno-globe meditation technique, practiced in secret since…
who knows, but crystal ***** did do something.
People can look at sno-globes for ever,
and never grow weary of the novelty.

For some, simple is good, good is simple.
God is light.
Where light is…not
nothing is.
Evil thing in my mind, you have been certified nullified.

Wind war? I inherited the wind.
I know why the broad Sargasso sea is so still, willo'mywinds
whisper
Peacemakers come from homes troubled in the making.
The fecting up of the Peacemaker, protrudes
effective peacemaking is more
preclusive
unsettling,
Dear Rhea rumbling at more
pressure boiling for her to loose some
air.
Cultures sharing antibodies for old evils.
Once the evils men imagine are exposed,
refreshen the air. Take another hit,
message accepted,
we can handle those
acting-as-if the losers won,

but none need lose, for life, per se,
in the realm of mega-we,
life is seen
most precious by all men.

Some men may dare to despise their own flesh,
(despise means not look at, spek means look at, in many tongues)

however,
never shall life despise some men and look kindlish at others.
Salt, be salt, water, water, you, you
-insert Markov blankness
life has proven itself in you. Be or not is not the quest.
Go, be more alivening, is the quest.
Be a little leaven, a viral bit of peace,
just past understanding,
well within reach.

Be alive, and where you live, make peace so life may
may -be empowered to- make peace so life may
dub thee Troen Ridder
truth-be-told, teller
maker-of- peace so life may
increase abundantly good forever
for no better reason

than if you had your own way we would be friends.

Search for a video of sanctioned war in germ terms
eleven days from minimum

survivable dose MSD

to total ******* and

destruction of both sides, unless
the bubble of all they have learned can be

pressurized, from the insides,…
Thanks, yawn. stretch, sneeze
Pop.

I heard about Alamogordo. Thanks for that, too.

rightnow. what does fear of not knowing a known

feel like, suffering wise, scale of 1 to 10?

How about (odd phrase, eh) we suffer, instead,
the fear of the un
known

Nova Sanctorem sorta stuff. Book learned
spells mispoken by orphans

sifting through the ashes of all that went before,
enchanting, if one child finds a drum,

safe from the fire in the secret place,
child strikes the drum one time

wait
echo

Did your home place echo?
During day, or during night?

In my desert, it is both.
- go to where stories lie at rest.
With this drum and my echos,
we may finish your migration

Walk a mile with me, let me help you
with your bag,
your thing, trip, scene

Remember then?
Enchanting times with different echoes

Ancient, old as dirt, snake clan secret
extreme mental challenge trials.

Now. What's the missing or broken
ness you all are murmuring

how about? May I?

May I understand comprehension of perceptions
in the interest of interesting times,

which, when I was told that

"may you live in interesting times", is
alleged, an Imperial curse,
which, first,
by then, I had all ready taken if-that for
granted as good will toward me.

I considered it diligently
I sought the sweet influence of Pleiades,

I did. Lucky Luciano and the Polish word Lekka

Luck is a factor if luck is originally
onto logical epi stem strateg-ic
clear light, magi-tech-wise.

There is evidence. The rocks bear my significance
-in 2022
If I can, try sign if I can, and no sir not can sir
but breathe sir
censor, sweet sense or else

the most benign of the self-righting models
to embody
the six spins in one bubble.

could stumble and fall and have no means to right,
get the signal, right itself, per se,
if wrong fail of function better next time…ping
we wer- yea, verily ver-ifity confirmed
it-ify-ing evil, first
really.
Life in mere terms,
words live here, we know
Intentional wrong precedes right
in my experience of living while waiting for you.
but once you have a grip on evil
as a thing in your own realm,
under your dominion;

then, don't miss a wink.
sleep tight, don't dis-integrate and wake up crazy.

When Ezekiel saw the model, if he saw the model,
he'd, he 'ould have been well and truly
amazed, aclaimin', in awe, I saw

"wheels within wheels within wheels bubblin'
bib-lin' bubblin' in my soul"

banjo and fiddle, painful for an orphan
yearnin' to learn ttdrr drum that drum

My drum. The drum I found in the secret place
I knew was there, after the fire.

-----
Ah, Christmas, the message with its own,
built in medium to grow in with no competition.

The least suspected are all infected.
That Usual Suspects, all those sick social memes, as if

the war of numbers was a game for cannon founders

Krupp and whom, Red Shield in the ghetto?
I don't think that makes
all the sense in the world.
who was Warburg…{question or mark of timing}

-- we had things between scenes, glyphs, right
let's have a gliph,if we edit- I am this-Þ, as an after thought
Þ is the th sound among certain ancient tongues,
deafness separation and blind singers grown wealth in wine.

The act has formed another wedom,
and we have joined them on fi, okeh, fi-semper
in fiduciary, and rests, in truth compressed
Trust. On the dime
flip. Truth rests.
On this page again, a different me,
indeed, as different time, I'm
certain, fluidity of space, currents

swirling up three dimensions, six ways
measured from now at the center, once,

now at the edge, stretching one point,
to a pivot,
turn around and wonder what we do,
we mortal watchers, consuming life to live…

questing questions ion-
state, condition, or action, quest
quaerere "seek, gain, ask"

From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=quest>

Can you think slowly? I can. Several volumes back,
we, discovered Jello-timespace, blinkable
and rubbable dry bubble eyes, murine
is accessible, state conditions or act

as if I were a maker of peace,
on the grandest scale,
would I fret living
for no reason
but one I made up, from bits of others,
made up from matters cogitated to troubled
state conditional actions
made up, fantasized, built to imagine going past,

a mountain of a man, big bad Yohan,
mean, mean, mean man,

I mean it, always.

6-19-2022 2200
- not so long ago, then
Father's day, lotsa laughs,

little error allowed, the fineness,
sorting racist fear from awareness,
the culture does produce to patterns,
common genetics, tend to produce
select models of all the options,
over and over and over again,
a loss
a complete misconception of my reason
able faith, applied, no lies, only big stories,
yes, I cannot remember what was real
and what was what I would have done,

then I remember the gun, I did tell that
guy with the gun
to stop. And he did.

Then the other guy, the one with the
shot gun, he has in my face,
and I am ready,

see, I say, to me today, I am ready

if I were you, you would think nothing
p-- I am too
tired and slightly drunk to care,

of course, the course is parseltongue tested,
listen, hiss, you know, the warning,
I own this space this time,
the serpent says to me,
I laugh and stomp it,
I made that snake,
it was not real.

You know how I feel,
daring, don't give a dam
gonna do another show,

rock and roll reality, believe me,
we have the Sisyphus's, happy
engine wound up and ready,

but Sisyphus quit.
Got to the top and said, that's it
I quit.
And time stopped in that sector.

Go look.
Nothing changes and Sisyphus
is happy as Hell to have nothing to do.

I want something cooler, reader five,
blackbandit-double-ought shot
pick a sigel jelly sidgil  sign damint spel chek
you know what I mean, magic it sigil -right
I guessed that.
My son in law cringes at my cultural crassness.
I think jews come in more recognizable patterns
than cultures that abandoned the marriage restrictions.

"At least --- did not marry a ------" Oy, right, mix race,
half-breed
race as a what, eh?
what we weigh is race, we do not know,
they said we know, but we don't so, no more, race
is a wrong idea,
not right.
The flavor, the leaven and spices and plagues of
cultures, idea - a we of one earth
- call Covid leaven,
- we all been co-leavened
- we all share simbionts,
- earth is our home and our calling is to be good.
- Spirit inspire expire ssssssss
that is a people, idea that shapes a people
cultures, symbiosis chimera are we, carriers
post all we all survived, we are carriers of all it took.


Quiet, the ride, holy silencio, yohan let it be son,
grow old and burn your pages/
slow skip staged events…

Okeh, from the beginning I am the auth-oth- or that
maker up, of my faith, author and glosser, shiner, finisher
on elements at work in melody and har,mmmmoney
echoes, eeeee
we agree, that is no reason to dare see it so,
we are all, by nature's god, double-minded,
doubt not is a trick of the trade,
ɤ thistledo-find a phoneme that fits kid
unify, un yonder run un if un if un if I die I knew
you know, knowing good and evil, was the plan,

nothing was a secret, once in a life time you may know.

That other half, so dark and deep
The shadow that often creeps
Filled with laughter and promiscuity
It slithers and it scorns
Often holding judgments and lies
It is the shady part of the tree
The sky without a moon or a foggy night
That other half
Dare not speak it's name
For it'll venture out
Perhaps it will put hot red lipstick on
And dance among those who have lost their hearts
Practically naked with lusting eyes
Tempting all the darker sides
That oth half, that desperately scares
Painted red and staring
Often tempting me throughout the night
Have another drink it whispers so sweetly
Sip, drink, chug
And I'm lost among the clouds
It feels so good to be consumed

sEnd
                              tHe                moNEy:

              *TRY!          ­   noTHiNg                         funnY!

    othEr     wIsE                               ,tHE

                   "poEt"                                          **DIES?

It’s beautiful. The rhythm. The instruments

blending to construct a uniform of posse-

ssing noises. The voices cascading

   together to create a melody, one

     quite similar to sweet dew on

       flowers in the bright, early

        morning. It fills you until

           you feel the wonde-

             rful notes within

             your very being.

           The tones dance a-

          round you until you

        are nothing but that. T-

      he different feels of each

   individual song are incredible.

They can either make you feel as

if anything is possible, as if there is

no greater sadness than your own,

as if you are the best thing in the w-

orld to someone, as if you are not

  who you are but who you alwa-

   ys wish to be, or as if even th-

     e most substantial disadva-

      ntages can never lift the

       brilliant veil of the warm,

          fuzzy happy you are

                  drunk on.

                   It’s as if

                    in that

                   one mi-

                 niscule m-

              oment, you a-

           re free of everyth-

       ing and nothing could

   possibly be anything oth-

  er than jubilant. These chor-

ds remain in your head and you

can change them on will like a radio.

They give you a needed distraction, a

relief from the pressure, an ungodly am-

ount of confidence, or even just something

to center yourself around. The patterns make that overbearing uncertainty

melt from your mind to puddles of woe on the ground. The alluring collections of each portion make

an enchanting thing that will forever be commemorated

in the minds of others.

We are family
We are kin
Sure sometimes we fight
We always come back to each other
In the end

We are family
I know sometimes
That's hard to see
But we know the truth
There's nothing Like family

We are family
We work together
To build a stronger bond
We share each other's
Good times
We comfort each oth
When things go wrong

Poet Tree (A Lowku)
30 July 2021

Maltreated goth,
Needed a hit with his m'oth.
Cocoon spooned.

to my detriment...
      
    (i) wouldn't have thought the concept
of orthography was alive and well
in the Victorian episode of
english history...

    but who can blame me...
after all... orthography simply became
a concern for "spelling mistakes"...
never mind the fact that...
   translating english into h'americana
can find yourself

obliterated - or rather: dumb-founded
at some examples of "unnecessary" letters...
e.g. colo(u)r...
             and i always thought that...
diacritical markers of distinction
were the prerequisites of claiming
orthography...

   i was wrong... so wrong in fact...

                                  +
                       B   I   L   S   T
                              U   M
                          P   S   H   I
                              S.   M.
                           A    R    K

i really didn't take more concern than
is usually necessary...
    Mr. Blotton...
                 said it was only...
   a failed sudoku crossword / pseudo-anagram...
neither: i hope...
              Mr. Stumps: the rock-"owner"
of Cobham...

              'bill stumps, his mark'...
ah yes... the orthography of a "missing" lambda...
but i would have to imagine...
as is the case:
sometimes the u precedes the o...
or the plague... or not really bothered but:
there is a clear difference
when the sound is the same...
can i infer a variation of meaning
from a "missing" L?
   bill... bill... there's the lesser william:
i.e. *****... and so **' come
the w mutated into a b?
lesser still: but of concern nonetheless:

how was **** arrived at from richard?
orthography...
when... all it takes is bil(l)?
                      a mammoth task...
esp. should there be a "missing" mam(m)oth
to begin with...
    it sounds as it reads but...
there's no "higher" reason to infer...
that a mamoth is not a mammoth...
unless: m'ah-moth...
                    but if it's orthographic:
it's also aesthetic to boot!
        a mamoth is not a mammoth because...
an ardvark is not an aardvark...
   and Aaron... and Aaron...
stutter? ah'aron...
                        stutter and a gem of timidity
when it comes to clicking: cccccook...
             bounce a riddle: not so... quick...
bry-dle...
                       the ridler & co. is not:
the riddler & co.
                                 but the added: D and so too:
added and not: ad(d)ed...
                      ad hoc...
                                       it was the year...
oh... i'm guessing 1997...
           the prodigy had released:
   more music for the jilted generation...
an event at the Victoria train station... terminal...
when OurPrice was still the sort of
tesco-metro of ****** megastores...

did i buy it? no no... i was still a "kid who'd
most probably **** their bed" when
en vouge came out with a single...
don't let go...                                 sold!

notion of orthography: furthered...
    pół - half...
           half of what?
   poow...
   literally... / missing from the L and...
' missing from the o...
               otherwise... pociecha: comforting...
punkt: point...
                     ah... this obscure of the most
obscure... under a russian umbrella...
  loitering blister of former life...

to boost concerns...
how am i to be sure that... e.e. cummings
was not... a welshman?
a cornwellian?
                  when reading:

       ygUDuh
             ydoan
                     yunnuhstan
          lidl yelluh bas

we could try... i'm pwetty pwetty     'ssured
that welsh is a protected language:
a u.n.e.s.c.o. heritage sight of: wriggles and lapping...
tongue: mind you...

hellish punctuation...
one of those: lesser arts...
          and all the space in the world:
escape from Alcatraz / the paragraph...

in velsh then!
       basic things: i eat coal...
                                   eh bwyta glo...
       roses are disgusting
              when rhymed:
           rhosod mae hatgasaf
                            pryd odli (fioledau)...
         come tomorrow:
   time will become the wind...
                       dewch yfory,
    amser ewyllys dod yn y gwynt...

gwynt - wind...
   ddaear - earth...
      dwr - water...
                tân - fire!

          that whole hazelnut of:
too many consonants from eastern europe...
yes: and so little in wales:
that Y had to, "sort of"... take on functions
of: why i... a llafariad?
         i.e. a voul... a vool...
                    an owl... a vowel...

Shakespeare? not now... not now...
  by the looks of it: no theatre... not ever...
thea-ter... you'd say: thea-ter...
but you'd write: thea-tre...
and then say: properly: anything
thea-trical...

               this of course is not...
something concerned with:    naws... nuance...
i must most certainly bring in some
welsh... to... for lack of a better... want...
that part of language most alive:
slang...
                      well... welsh for me will
have to... become a "sort of"... new shlang...

   it's wet it's gloomy... but to me it will be:
   gwlyb... otherwise: glib... and of course
cousin glum...
                    
   such is... what itself has allowed...
       and i: the hands that became a treason
to the body and the mind...
ventured to... satisfy...
                        these words... of origins
unknown...
               idle hands: hardly anything more
than idle words...
               how nature abhors a vacuum.