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Mary McCray Apr 2015
(NaPoWriMo Challenge: April 14, 2015)

Memory distortions introduced by the loss of details in a recollection over time, often concurrent with sharpening or selective recollection of certain details that take on exaggerated significance in relation to the details or aspects of the experience lost through leveling. Both biases may be reinforced over time, and by repeated recollection or re-telling of a memory.

So I’m upset, you see, sitting in a canary yellow truck
back in Harding County 1976. The boys have gone off
in search of cows. I can’t leave because they’ve told me
the yellow truck is surrounded by rattlesnakes.  

So much as my toe won’t hit the prairie. And truly,
I can’t remember anything beyond the truck.
The land is flat for sure but I can’t see the windmill
or the water tank. The earth has all but lost its load of folks.

There’s only the yellow truck, the long clutch, and those *******,
the snakes. There’s only the manipulations of boys
gleefully trotting the plains with their chauvinisms.
The flat ocean of grass and my yellow pitching vessel.

So I take out imagination like a newfangled photo editor.
I want to exit the truck for a minute and put a cow
on the scene. But I worry about those snakes.
If I place a scrub bush here, the snakes might opt for some shade.

I bring the cow back but I want a happy cow,
not a suspicious cow or a jaded cow.
Luckily I find an article online that seems useful,
“16 Signs to Access Whether Your Cows are Happy.”

According to FarmersWeekly my cow’s happiness
involves muck sieving and rumen fill. It says nothing
about California which hitherto I’ve been told
makes cows happy. Strangely I’m feeling better.
"16 signs to assess whether your cows are happy" Farmers Weekly Reporters, Tuesday 14 April 2015 (www.fwi.co.uk/livestock/16-signs-to-assess-whether-your-cows-are-happy.htm)
Ken Pepiton Feb 2023
You can say that again, later, it is -time
lace up the daily bag and pass it
for all private interpretation
removal, from the rumen, to the next
- gaseous we, Huxley called us, 1957

No, this ain't show business, this
is living, made in a made up mind,
being finished doing, just
living.

Making up reasons to dispute liars.

Maybe not a good living, but it's free.
Or paid for, any way.
Bought with a price
my grands won't be forced to pay.
- divided attention makes
- ads obliviate into the mercantile
- classification, in attention econ 101
It's free - this living
in the way well fed children do,
in America, outside the cities;

Joy pursued and grabbed in happy
fistfuls that fill laughing memory bubbles
to store for when these become
the olden days.

No, this ain't show business,
its sacred duty,
work of a thing,
made from a boy who looks
into flies eyes, gazing up
from the bottom of the cup,
a little glazed, perhaps,

owing the fly an easy escape, look away

Tricae,
tricae
"perplexities, hindrances, toys, tricks,"

The collections of thoughts,
the access to held thoughts, knotted
messages
to you
private moments,
time alone, as a mortal human being,
humus built, auto-repairing thing being

being, eh?
One-like, only, or
on-like, only going on and on and on,

becoming fruitful
becoming useful
becoming less and less useful, but
becoming more and more curious
becoming full enough to become superfluous.

Lay preachers can create cushions
for lazy wishers wishing to be comforted,
but the weighing of the worth of comfort,

lay preachers seldom do, to my knowledge.

Terminus gnosis, all I know, my bubble of knowns;
this is it…
a thousand stacks of sensible lines, atop precepts,

strewn beside the trail.
Heavy
heuristic heretical how-to do as I dones,
published by faith in the thousands, litter
the little hills the psalmist asked,
why they writhed and twisted,
as in a dance of anger wishing,

clear channel, me and the truth, today,
just/instance, this/ now.

Free am I, by the faith in me, but you
already
knew that,

don't you?
Don't you know, there is a musing mind,
we wear to bed, some nights,
we lay on memory foam, some nights.

Thinking sorted thoughts, untying lying links,
links to educated guesses fed you as new reasons

to be ever vigilant, ever ready to defend the faith,
the laughing faith of a child, leaping
into the sky

- my grandson, I just learned,
- asked for more math.

No class common man, that is what I am,
on the cusp of next, looking back,
at the mess I left, like a cyclone,
randomly distributing seeds of kindness, specs
by which an idle word can activate troves
of ancient autoresponders, each guessing
what if, what if not,
what if, what if not,
what if, what
if
not now, when. Pop.
Bubbles of been, leave go, go on, think it

through, and passed through, into
the now
where we formed, letters, letting words wait,
sit still, ready
for the reader, ready
to steady the quivering fearful thing,
lost in thought,
stuck in stacks of holy orders, hearer only,
only ordainded doers do the trick,
intricate, folding to make not a paper swan,

too, easy. Make a protein. With no model,
just the idea in the word applied to science,
proper pose, super knowing, proto-life-ish thing,
that is digestible using an infantile nourishing node.

What tricks do you know?, the magi aske Moshe.
Snake from a staff.

From the crozier of goatherd, sure,
we can all do that. What else?
---
Allusions to ever knowing, knowing as old
as knowledge given girls at their flowering,
as old a mystery as any orphaned mother may tell
her great grand daughters,
nobody told me any thing,

but I took it as normal,

As the patient potency prefecting
effectual
fervent
prayer, dramatized, made big as all
art
any
bubbled artifice holding essences,

essential bits of the daily grind to gloss
the leading intellect's reason for being
so shiny,
Klimt golden, as that one kiss I recall,

yes, a facsimile, a memory evocation,

a kiss, golden in that moment, infected
with a feeling
dramatized to be offered to all who see,
intricacies,
khipu twists and loops and bundles and beads,

accounting for dues,
instructing kaballah, pass it on

Excuse me, are you in the right realm,
we feel pluralized,
but you don't fit,
we are uniform,
uninformed,

excathedra, listen up, all eight billion now living, are destined
for certain death,
it is a matter of time, dying once,
can happen anytime,

and if there is a second death, so far,
I never saw any body do it twice,
once truth makes what I am free,
we stay free,
amen,
reception accepted kaballah, et al,
take that greasy grace, feel it,
as the oil ran down Aaron's beard,

and there were no poor denied
starship rations,
until the comet hit and all
but a single mind
blew, into this
a complete fiction,
or another compleat guide to fishing

Imagine the magic of the sailor's accounting book,
envision the magic of levers, and pulleys and cogged
wheels feeling the weight

ping
2023 Gravity driven or gravity powered, is it
one
or the other, when it come be to inspire
first fears
to frame wisdom pools,
at depths we learn
to believe,
prove each participant,
worthy of keeping,
the secret.
Salt of the earth, deep down dehr dat
Caribbean Sea,
shore line fracture,
follow the riverwise road,
any thing you think you must bear,
don't blame,
sometimes it pays, to bend.
Grasshopper Locust practice, for the mind
of an ant.

Wisdom harnessed the fear of God,
put it down,
in other words,
when there was nothing
but E, mass and time being assent
esse, sentient, in sentient and ex
insentience, sapient over lay,
- honeycomb tripe pattern, say
- why not ruminate enclosed
- in a beauteous inner digestive
- recluse-exclusive-sub-science con
ified, tied ligously, fi,
to witty means, and ways we prove
gravity is our friend, driven power for all life,
strong as earth itself, but, we are

in the burning phase,
let me bring you down,
cause being accused, does that
to a stranger
being
entertained, or entertaining, on an aitia
let me
reason,

have you come for more, or do we have
too much
of too many things
to make too much
sense
of any particular reader/writer ifery algorithm,
if then,
else is this, current, slow, nodding, flux,
capacitance
loading axially,
if each mind thinks right once,
today, we have enough,
let's save the world.
- that easy, eh?
global restoration, Christ, yes,
that is the plan.
As the planet was.
Prior to Peleg's days.
Intended to have a single
dry land mass,
Wisdom pushed
for plates meeting
and using ice
at the top
of the world, as seen polaris up,
spinning
in a slow wobble
through four
seasonal positional hot-cool-cold-warm
gyre drivers, saline liquid epicycles, sisters
of the four winds
as a flywheel effect
in the telling times… a little imbalence leaning helps
with the wobble,
in the event,
slim to none,
the odds, but,
Don't Look Up. It could
reoccur, and shall, if
Nietzsche's epicycle

has wheels. Graham Hancock, on clocks…cosmic

Mindspacetime, the elite flight,
secretshitistic, it is, most certain, it is
fantasmic imagining
E not equal any thing, mere words
-jello-timingoooisht
between me and thee,
no point, not one, between the we
we become,
in the final analysis, if you wish,

might
you wish,
long, lazy river readers, re-mind
their lost selves, how innocense felt.

The worth of an unsold story, given
as a gift, as a poor artist might
attempt
a portrait
of their daughter's children

- "that little thing"
Done. As best he could, he believed,
at the time,
as it is
with
everything being as is when we arrive,
we adapt
or become the insane opposition,
to anything,
just
be the counter weight on the pendulum,

keep things swingin'

feel time slide
into the real deal,
at the crossroads
in the wayback seat,
sayin' honey, you ain't here
after what I'm here after,
y'gonna be there, after I'm gone, as  asong
that was
once a joke ended you gonnabe here
after I'm gone, but

seemsayin' eye
squint, see,
way back
when,
we were otherwise involved, affirming
sacred oathes, we swore as children learn
IT being life, whatever,
it don't mean
nothin'
is not a joke, it's ahint, to readers, ready
writing is key to reading,
vertical eyed
qwerty keying is learned,
phone wide,
natural, feels familiar
style adaptation
as cuneiform once was,
years of hearing the same words,
said and resaid, story after story stacked
in
time, measured by stargazers, called, by god,
eyes like eagles, these minds expand, and see
the order of the cosmos,
and the chaos of the collective sub-science

locked by a generational curse on oathes
under the God those kids had in mind,
September, 1954, first day of school,
all across the Wyatt Earp of Nations,
each child not religiously exempted,
stood, right
hand on heart and repeated, as a national
student body, K through 12, a pledge,
local time 9 a.m. nationwide,
not unlike
a true Tenant's pledge of fealty,
as recorded in
The Compleat English Copyholder:
Common and Statute LAW of
England, relating to Manors
and Lords of Manors Et c.
- buzz nod what instance… seven seconds
Sorry, Under God, was added to the pledge
that year, that affectionizes those exposed,
we meander under god, think it not strange.
It’s a legendary trait, we'll all be remembered a bit.
- default modemod is always beguiling temptation
- for temptation sake, win a game, get the rush.
of chasing hares
to where the conies hide,
feeble folk, but they live among big rocks,
reason enough,
use what you know is right,
hide from things that eat you,
that evolves
in nations
with no elders, constant defence mode
peace makers seem
feeble folk,
who knew,
and fell away, impossible to renew,

whoah, zeke play me that riddle,
'bout scrublands being humbly blissed
so long- wayback, anchoring the authority
17
that's me, I
fiddled around
and blew the clearwater revival
to kingdom come, Muddy Waters, aight
and there was hippies, ever whar, swanee,
so I do, I swan no no no no mo
lie like the devil for the sake of church heritage,
holy warrior sworn, heart torn, tears shed, tongues
spoken.
You know, when gravity is taken
in, your weight, sunk
into the reasoning
swung wide
in progress, no aim, past the cloud,
for crying out loud, this is louder than ever,
listen, no
silence
all that
noise, is natural
to persons genitivally, ok, cross
shadowed animus anima imitation,
in your cultural genes, cowgirl
seeing the world a yingyang thang,
with gravity and the E-magnetic shields
allowing systems to com-uni-cate locally,

scarey
indeed

too much,
the scope
of any thing one might think
or ask,
as in what was that rule
of LAW once?
I read
Compleat Fisherman's Guide U recall led
to , yes, The Compleat English Copyholder:
Common and Statute LAW of
England, relating to Manors
and Lords of Manors Et c.
is on Google books, masterfully typeset

Feel free to learn all you will, 'tis all in the Common.

as, by now is much that may have been, otherwise,
in needier times,
less riches, more sorrow,
less sorrows, more riches, peace.

Made that my after all battlefield task,
no mas win or lose.

My side, on the scalar models is gravity empowered,
heavyweight, ancient concept,
gradient slopes
with long lazy loops
on the downhill side,
listening
to kids make all the noise they wish,
two chalk walls away,
in the bubble we all breathe.

To this day, whatever it took, it worked.
Life gets as good as you can make up a mind

to accept, as
this is it,
this is my bit. My close up. To the exact point
where I breathed that bubblierised wedom-opinion

opinion opinion opinion okeh, settle years ago, okay
we all say okeh here, holy ground,
entire collection of recollection on that victory alone.

Okeh, is still the proto voice model, ok.
If you like it, I'd love if you shared it in whole or in part, it is a whole chapter in a novel form of literature, native to the internet age,
type set for vertical receivers
Death Feb 2017
I dont care

About the length of your hair

The clothes you wear

The color of your skin

Hell my own people hate me

Just cause I listen to rock

Watch the time

Even when it doesn't tock

Even listening to rock

Letting people judge me from my skin

Instead of the actions

I display myself within

Brown, black, white,

Orange, red,

The color of the dead

Your human to me

Heart, soul and mind

Are all you need

Just allow me to plant the seed

Look at yourself

Your human

Blood as red as the wine that stains your rumen

As you intoxicate yourself from reality

All because you fear the grand fatality
I'm a human, but yet I am more.
Norbert Tasev Sep 2020
And when one sins a little and falls into sin: He gurgles chocolates down his throat with unauthorized methods, giving one-person cakes the ultimate honor of such sublime and sublime passions as being in love! To become one: Flour, water, eggs with an immortal yet metaphorically changing dough body, mouth-watering, bohemian distillates, can be created for rebirth! - One can and feels conceived, the subtle, superstitious details do not yet form - only at the cost of hard work -


the whole and thus the re-created Universe is sanctified: A bite of only tastes, smells, and thoughts - a redeeming noble task: To rename people into unity, a common wavelength, if possible!

In the rumen of abundance in the furnace, on the wedding bed of flame-caves, the flame gave birth to millions: diligent yeasts again, they could recreate even man-made dough. How many uplifting and special miracles does it hold, and how many more can the waiting, the well-deserved fruit of our patience, unfold?

And how the dough shape fills and swells: it resembles the condition of blessed mothers, while its waistline increases in a curved curvature, and it is exciting, as if only the Sun was caressing. You see, there will be plenty of good, and the dated universe will be carefully highlighted, with due maternal tact; be careful not to crack your existing cartilage,

and they are dressed in a heavenly garment of sifting powdered sugar, which is falling like snow, and it sweetens as many tiny ***** of true pearls as the sieve sifts! "We're still waiting with a scurrying worried stomach." In the attic of our mouth, in the meantime, the charm and the fried bride were served directly to our table!
Daniel Albright Aug 2020
A Poem: A Cry for Love in our Homes*

Picking up my pen this evening
With an overburdened sad heart deepening
My heart rent into two by man's attitude
My face lost its normal sanctitude


Marriage is meant to beget a home
This I know without going to Rome
But my heart bleeds as I look at things
At the peripheral of situations which causes my eyes to sing


Godly homes exist this I doubt not
Love alone can cleanse a dark spot
In how many homes does love live?
Or are we just a bunch of religious fanatics in hypocrisies hive


Does our children see this?
Or are our homes now a place where cry is?
Where our children don't want to stay
Even with your wife, do you play?


I look at my background and I cry
Sometimes in a bid to shove away, I fly
Love missing at every turn
Sorrow filling my weak heart and making me taciturn


From my Genesis, I saw no love
Except for the ******* that gave me love
Husbands, please, I kneel and plead
Love your wives and let that love lead


Our homes is now filled with distrust
Our husbands now possess love with rust
Conscience sealed, harder than rocks
Deaf to the cries of their children even when they knock


Love and unity are sacked by hypocrisy
The weaker vessel, in a bid to understand your devilish, self democracy
Are now stained with your dirt of hatred
That smiling angel has now become a gloomy sacred


I delight not in the handsomeness of a man
When love doesn't live in him, he's not my fan
I delight not in the bank account of a Prince
When love has been caged and dusty without even a rinse


I delight not in the Big Bible you have
Not in your much preachings with starve
When your heart is the seat of wickedness
Your conscience has been buried in its dreadedness


I delight not in your ***** philanthropy
That God doesn't even recognize as a trophy
When your family is starving and lives in povertys punishment
You make a good name outside only, walking in self righteous pavement


I plead with all young men and women
Please allow love, not money, not wickedness, not lust nor treasures rumen
Let love come alive once again in our homes
I plead on bended knees, out of my cry for love in our homes.

© Daniels Pen ™ 2020.
Daniel Albright Aug 2020
A Poem: The Tongue

A little member it is
Caged inside a-32-gate with lips
Made only by the Unique Creator
It's use has numerous gladiators


It helps in food digestion
But it's harm can cause ejection
It has a gate without padlock
Only God holds it in His Handlock


Attitude is what fast tracks or slows down it's movement
In some, who find it's harm a good pavement
Who delight in using it to destroy
In them does foolishness employ


The fruit of the heart is what it looks at
When enunciating, devilish and heart breaking lines in part
Expecting exaltation, they progress in it's pit of degradation
Blinded by wickedness, they backstab without a good conscience visitation


It is also useful to preach
But only for those whose tongues God has made a breach
Limiting it from destroying as it ought to
Take your tongue to Him and things will turn around auto


It is used by men and women
But how it is used lives in attitudes rumen
It sets ablaze and brings together the peace that has been for long
The special, reddish, U- shaped, beautiful tongue.

© Daniels Pen ™ 2020.
Yenson Nov 2023
Hear to want they what them tell
in the still of raging calm
stop not to chew cud
as cattles galivant over the latest noise
in excess rumen acidity
they will find the festooned price
and bowels will Sing sing
cattkes wear bells in the Alps
hear of the tell and tell of the hear
we help them to graze
noses in the dirt and muck
“Tampons cause toxic shock syndrome which is fatal. I urge
you, or your brother, to not use a ****** on heavy days for
more than 20 minutes, better still: switch to pads.”
   “How dare you pry into my personal choice of feminine hygiene products! I feel the most relaxed while in the company of feminine hygiene production staffers & middle management types.”
   “Me too.”
   “You feminine-hygiene types are all the same!”
   “If only Carl Sagan could be brought back to
life for 10 seconds! Wouldn't that be something?”
   “It sure would!”
   “His inner-beauty made the Hawaiian
Islands look like 6 piles of ****.”
   “What about his outer beauty?”
   “Not so much. It did though make the Hebrides
look like 2 tons of putrefying whale rumen.”
   “Or dog *****.”
   “Yes: or dog *****.
Daniel Albright Dec 2020
A Poem: If only love could have its way

*
Sometimes, I wonder why marriages fail
Is it dark powers, or the attitude of one that blackmails?
Love are you limited?
You've made me good spirited


Men wear harshness at home
Not a smile for his wife, not a, "Honey welcome"
They have separate rooms
And hatred has brought its broom


With hatred, they visit their children
Crying, but all on a rocks rumen
If only love could have its way
All marriages will on the mat of unity lay


If only love could have its way
It'll break the rock, causing a waterfall in the clay
If only love could have its way
Neglected children will also learn to pray


The rock of negligence
Has fallen on both fathers and children and all are in silence
If only love could be allowed
All the hatred would be swallowed


If only love could have its way
Let love be allowed to in our families stay
And watch the tranquility and joy and happiness it lays
If only love could have its way.

© Daniels Pen ™✍️✍️✍️✍️ 2020.

— The End —