I was an angelic anima in past life form
As tis
I still am!!!

No breath without a shudder,
No thought with my guts stirring like the
brew of an ancient witch.
I feel like I'm dying
Slowly but surely,
Withering away without you.
I had found something that gave me reason
And without this reason my body has little
patience for me
My mind has resumed its onslaught
No matter what I do
there's a constant thrumming
That floods from my shot nerves, flows
through my skin,
Echoes in my lungs
forming into a mad cacophony in My skull.
Tense,
heart lazily pumps blood like that of a
man painfully dying
My eyes are filled with a haze,
seemingly at only half capacity
I am dead without that which gave me life
I either without that which gave me hope
The world is no longer a good place.
It is rather
A cracked, evil wasteland of twisted metal
And concrete,
spires raking deep cuts in the sky
Eviscerated, the ground belches poisonous
gas,
Vomits blistering magma
The rippling heat is enough to
**** a man, but in my sorroi am deathless
Tortured in the flames of a corrupted earth.
That is to say, I have reluctantly returned
to the homeplanet upon which I was born
From which I was rescued
Returnee to the desolate
To die in the desolate
A wretched actor
rather than a free man
A heinous villain instead of the hero
I am the beast of darkness that lives on
the screaming minds of reaved souls
Not
Peace
Not
love
Only agony my constant companion
They tell me to live, the voices,
to come with them into the light
Heathen gods, mad swirling chaos.
I am in hell

If your wondering where I am and why I have changed, I wondered into the forest and didn’t returnee the same.
-ALC

It’s not the want to escape from it all,
I know I will come back to the same point.
Like every living organism I will returnee to where I began.

It’s not the need to feel the burning in my legs,
Or the stinging in my lungs.

It is the ache in my heart that always causes me to sprint,
In any direction,
To feel the power of my own body pulsing me forward.
It’s the begging of my soul,
That has me leaving at a dead sprint.
Returning with a blood red face
And an open heart.
-ALC November 15, 2018

After a hiatus of countless years
plus an additional
almost three months
since a major makeover,
(I experienced the magic
wrought courtesy
a bonafide big hearted
beautician at Salon Nova
located in beautiful
downtown Limerick, Pennsylvania

to render my straggly long hair
cut about twelve inches shorter),
whereby a mensch looked back at me,
a gorgeous reflection mirror reflection
yours truly returned to the mecca
Thomas Paine would feel right at home,
and surprisingly enough
a small number of attendees
at said name sake Unitarian Fellowship
nevertheless recognized me,

(and remembered my late mother
Harriet Harris,who passed away
twenty years ago come May 5th, 2025)
ushering yours truly courtesy older,
yet nevertheless familiar faces
while jesters tumbled and unrolled figurative
Scottish Tartan welcome mat
and provided a warm welcome.

As a small boy
parents of ours
(mine two siblings
included then and now,
an older and younger sister)
attended the Main Line Unitarian Church,
(a general hunch we regularly
made our appearance
at aforementioned site
during late 1960's early 1970's)
816 S Valley Forge Road, Devon, PA 19333,
when the then minister Mason McGinnis
facilitated the program.

Skads of decades,
née scores of years elapsed
since boyhood found me heading
(more accurately prodded),
thence shuttled to age appropriate classroom,
albeit informally structured learning environment.

Chronologically doddering oldest people
(such as fathers, mothers,
gray haired grandparents...)
plus young adults
bid their charges goodbye, albeit temporarily
as their younger kin got gently routed
to one out of quite numerous
ample size preschool/nursery room.

Infants, babies, young kids
i.e. most easily antsy, distracted, oblivious,
when days of our live young and restless
(unbeknownst to those recipients)
got their inchoate intellect sparked.

Their coerced, coddled (molly),
and coaxed... reluctance rewarded
(aside from with sweet treat)
courtesy lofty, mighty, nifty...
young rabbit ears raptly attuned
(most like a couple seconds maximum at most)
feigning listening at (iterated above)
Minister Mason McGinnis
who always gave rousing sermon.

If not him, perhaps a previously
scheduled guest speaker
enlightened, enhanced, enchanted... audience.

Nonetheless upon attaining mine prepubescence,
or thereabouts, (and most definitely
when yours truly crossed his horrendous,
perilous tumultuous wretched pubescent Rubicon
marking naturally ordained metamorphosis),
they abruptly ceased mandating
what both parents considered
(as well this middle aged son
recognized in retrospect –
cuz hindsight of mine always 20/20),
a golden opportunity to mingle,
and perhaps even (horrific as this reads)
befriend shy lads similar to yours truly.

I felt quite at home being attended, pacified,
pampered, and pulled up by bootstraps.

Without warning this baby boomer
invariably, suddenly felt shell shocked
and zapped courtesy post traumatic stress disorder
incurred while in utero.

Suddenly out of the blue,
paralyzing horror found this AARP eligible cardholder
aghast with fright as if scary
boogie woogie bugle boy monster mash
(with cooties) prowled premises on the lurch
to spring summat ploy.

Nightmarish visitations
while finding my religion
(crept along the edge of night
regarding dark shadows
from outer limits of twilight zone)
extolling virtues regarding return of native son
also witnessed me
being precariously hoisted,
and (analogous to dangling modifier)
suspended me in mid air by my own petard.

Erroneously called third world,
Could have been, but once upon a time,
Now no better than a war ravaged sorry excuse,
Overrun by millions of uneducated minors and poorly educated seniors;

Old timers reminisce days of better,
When enough went round to even fly around,
Times when the first world was a backyard trip,
And the currency was more than a generous tip;

So when a big bird drops a returnee,
And welcome is a smelly, darkly terminal,
Lackeys in uniform coercing gratification,
Then confronted by abysmal roads manned by drunken law enforcement;

Nobody needs a lesson in enlightenment,
To figure this rudderless contraption's predicament,
And whether the future will bring turnaround development?
Better pray, like they always do, for better entertainment.