Sunday, I am eating a
grapefruit, church is over at the Russian
Orthadox to the
west.

she is dark
of Eastern descent,
large brown eyes look up from the Bible
then down. a small red and black
Bible, and as she reads
her legs keep moving, moving,
she is doing a slow rythmic dance
reading the Bible. . .

long gold earrings;
2 gold bracelets on each arm,
and it's a mini-suit, I suppose,
the cloth hugs her body,
the lightest of tans is that cloth,
she twists this way and that,
long yellow legs warm in the sun. . .

there is no escaping her being
there is no desire to. . .

my radio is playing symphonic music
that she cannot hear
but her movements coincide exactly
to the rythms of the
symphony. . .

she is dark, she is dark
she is reading about God.
I am God.

The master of emotion,
The king of the dance,
Hurried fingers add
A note of daring chance.

Molten happiness
Floats in the air
Like a passing good dream;
With never a care.

Now poignant,
Now sad,
How melencholy
How deep and drab.

Silver metal gleams
In the eye of the mind,
Lost an ancient battles
On which the sun shined.

Melodies curl around inside,
Twining round my arms-
This music can protect me
From any kind of harm.

Sharp, shrieking voices
Let out a scream
As they find out the world
Is not what it seems.

A starry night captures
A beautiful song
For a love through the ages,
The ages so long.

The smooth rythms
Of the everlasting trees
Whisper quietly
Throughout the leaves.

Musty notes
In a darkened room,
And sunshine floods
Into the gloom.

Music tells the truth
And the truth never lies,
But pianos are tricky
And their feelings they hide.

Anger forces the
Furious beats
Into the world
And off silent sheets.

Midnight and brightness
Float in the stars,
Connecting all people,
So close and so far.

Pure and simple,
Liquid notes
Fall in arpeggio scales
Through dancing dust motes.

A single tears falls,
Making no sound
As keys pull memories
Up from the ground.

Everything's so simple
When played in black and white;
The piano controls
My darkness and light.

She is glory
    the girl with dark hair
she is music
    in her red pants
she is lyrical
    twirling through the crowd
she is inspiration
    eyes closed, smiling,
she is soul
    the girl who stomps her feet

I sang to you and the moon
But only the moon remembers.
     I sang
O reckless free-hearted
          free-throated rythms,
Even the moon remembers them
     And is kind to me.

"Five directions of space"

Oneflower.
Many thorns.
Pain and love.
Creation of life.
Spreading love through movemant.
actions simply understandable.
Erasing words and madifest them into rythms.
Don't loose your passion for the flower you grab with your thoughts.
Themind to has five directions of light.
Five ways of expressing your truue self.
Art
Music
Dancing
Poetry
Martial arts.

Happy
sad
angry
worried
Scared

"Eye-I"

Its a beutifull world of the sight given by the lord "I-Eye".
Because I was brought to this world by a thought of my mother in the dark.
A spark of lightfirelove.
While my grandfather and grandmother lived.
As now they are the moon and the sun.
I was the last one seen by their eyes.
as I stayed in there minds and they took my image withtheir eyes.
In their open mindss
Able to visualize.
The mind is in a different dimention.
It can do anything.

"Destroying creations"

Destroy everything that creates ideas.
They just lead to destruction.
Worry about your intentions.
Forget your inventions.
Don't fall in temptation.
Godd bless this nation.
Ful of determination.
Flowing throiugh dimensions.
Travling through mountains.
Full of motivation.
reaching the inovations.
No misinterpretation.
As you start your reincarsination.
Trhough peace and meditation.
We will conme to our liberation.

Do you remember,
All the things they would say?
Everyday it was like another rule up and changed.

Can you remember,
When we was out in the rain?
You told me when you looked up at the clouds it was like God drownding your pain..

I remember,
Going insane,
forgetting my name..

I remember...
All the things that you said,
About,
A mans only as good as his word,
Without it,
Your better off dead,
Words up-on words that seemed to fill up my head....
...
..
.
Past times...
In passed times Ive tried to speak my mind,
I pass time,
With all these rythms that I find in my mind and...

All the times I rewind :(

I remember,
The way the sun shines at the end of the day.
Replay,

Do you remember all the things they would say when I was away?
How they called out your flaws,
Now look at the pain that you've caused.....
....
...
I stood up for you,
I held you up everytime you was weak,
I was your voice when no one allowed you to speak...
.... who wouldve thought along with your thoughts, your loyalty was also bleak..

You remember,
  When **** got deep?
I remember,
  My dreams of you being the only reason I'd get sleep..
  Holy water drownding my sorrow,
   This is the leak..
  All the money in the world Id let you borrow like an Arabian sheek.

Im bored with this so Ill just stop but truth be told,
  I dont care if you like it or not.

#SELFexpression
#TheWHOLEπ

Touch my banquet
it's possible crucifying pleasure
Instinct inspires whispers
of tormenting embrace
Confess your need
to fragment my illusions
Speak!
I can be found in all of this!

Leave & let me
believe in fragile reasons
Burn kisses
into my naked hidden world
Embrace secret rythms
that lie here poisoned
But meet me on your side
of the drunken universe!

Laugh cruel petals
my hour is haunting....
lavish your fancy dress
I exist only in solitude

....but the fever is in the living......

On the breakwater in the summer dark, a man and a
     girl are sitting,
She across his knee and they are looking face into face
Talking to each other without words, singing rythms in
     silence to each other.

A funnel of white ranges the blue dusk from an out-
     going boat,
Playing its searchlight, puzzled, abrupt, over a streak of
     green,
And two on the breakwater keep their silence, she on his
     knee.

What is your mind?
Or are you the mind.
When you close your eyes,darkness.
So when we where born light was created.
Inside the mind everything seems more real.
I don't feel pain judgement or punishmant
Insdide my mind I can be happy.
Picture anything and travel to anyplace on earth.
My universal mind is infinite.
Inside my mind I will take the loved ones.
AS your body leaves this realm.
But your teaching stay here.
your words become the air you breath.
Your cries will make the skies rain.
Your pain will make this earth shake.
With your children.
Wisdom of the ages.
Fire withing the veins.
Heart erupting blood like volcanoes.
Mind thinking at speed of light.
Sun creating shadow.
Following you as your conscions waiting to take your soul to sleep.
Seen everday as the sameday.
Nothing changes but the thought.
The image will remain the same.
Your body will madifest into the air.
You will become the sun.
Watch over your loved ones as eagle.
Death is nothing but a dream.
As your mind is reincarsinated through your children.
Music heart rythms creating real warriors willing to move mountains with your mind.
As your whole life you had one long dream.
Age is not real as you can die anyday.
It was always the present.
The ancestors are still here.
They never left,they were burried under earth.
Same earth we walk on.
So you see,we are the suns of the suns of the great great grandfathers.
Nothing leaves but madifest.
Wind clouds rain oceans.its a cycle.
Death never ends and creates life.
Its like the earth in the center of the dark universe.
Its your mind.one as all and all as one

Laggard, the ships drive down
emancipated parts tapping the sea with reasons
to soar back up
like fresh whales and the pieces of meat
falling to floor from human mouths sick of holograms
and trawling and fixing for our debts
ghost rythms, shaving off grissel and time
passing over stuble
the intricate need of each
hair
all of us, using the same tools;
ungendered across our bodies , my hand rubbing the grooves where your **** sat in the grass
all of the words now, slumbersome after a work day, but still able to see
where you sat and I sat
the beuatiful knife that few have, but always will
(needing only one type from one place, to begin)
saying to it, like the mad do, and we do:
‘Good God
blunt again
*****.
how many steaks have I used you on?
come on, where’s your guts – - , oyy… go onnn…’

But it’s alright about the silence
whilst you make a cheap dinner
the walls don’t know that you’re a little mad
they turn around like a house of mirrors made from cards
and say something back.

this animal is my self
it demands care, quietness, aliveness
infused as it is with primordial light and dread
sometimes I am only ears and eyes and fingers
and legs and *** and spine, a stomach, a liver and
a heart, sweat, tension and craving, a felt unity
vital stories to be told in the forgotten language
of hope and despair, longing and refusal
there is earth in my hands, air in my eyes, fire
in my stomach, water in my skin
untranslatable whispers about you, the other-me
I am a thirsty boundary for the river of life to dream
sighs symbols rythms harmonies and virtues

My heart beats arrhythmic rythms

The dissonance spells love

in every language but ours

yet

one sugar buss will drive me through

the long night's laments


I know

It is better

This way

Land bewitched by the breathy ash,
Which falls, unreal, around me,
Subdues my inner ticking
With a single, ringing note

Or the dulled sepia mufflings
Of distorted joy and feeling;
An amber pool of flickering light
and blind entertainment.

The bright, unfocused conversation
Drifting in lazy circles,
Gold silk stretches between us
And smiles become light

My limbs slow, and my mind speeds up.

The fading world echoes these
Surreal rythms, softened life.
Yet panic blinds and cripples me,
As the grey fogs take hold

And the
Snow is gone.

God help those whose hidden tears
flow with no reservation
whose hearts are filled with the pain
of a thousand dying men

If he should kiss their fate
with majestic unseen lips
like an all-enveloping sea of
unadulterated love

They could see all that
their future could hold, and
lift their heads to greet it
with hope and joy in their eyes

Alas there is no unseen
hand to pluck the resonant chords
of our futures. We are to ebb
and flow with the rythms
that we ourselves create.

As above...


...Your sky-dial feline mind, unzips
Bold rose-hip teems of fervour, kept
On ice, throughout the needle of
the duty-bound laborious.

You have geared the slug of
greased machines have
waited tables overseas,
have moved your shoes
to rythms of inconsequence.

So below...

Call talons from your lava skin,
in tracings of a milky way, step
ladders through the cotton fields
to set aside a broken string.

Float, leaf, about your symetries
to crook your spine in Gothic arches.
Sovereign , deep in quicksand warmth
through paths of least resistance.

Dissolve in waves of ageless truth
dashesd amber over Roman tiles.
In wild writhes of curling fern,

Your body shines obsidian.

Behind my camera their world carries on.
I focus on the narrow scene in front,
a smiling group, their eyes focussed beyond
my shoulders. I try to frame it tight.
They won't keep still for long from engaging
in the rythms they see beyond.

A never to be repeated moment,
heavily borne responsibility, not just a snap,
a future chance to look beyond reality.

What are they thinking? Oh, do get on!
Or, What on Earth is she wearing?

A picture triggers memories,
some warm, some forgotten.
But who was that at the back?
His name escapes me - a reminder
that memories may be blind.

Exits the friendly
From sun circled centre
Where no wispy 'membrance,
though 'tis what we're made of,
dost tangle in beaches or camp grounds.

Forgetting is lonely
in mustard seed corners
though lonely has purpose,
if purpose is stardom,
when taken in two over doses.

Chopping aortas
from hair raisèd partners
and sewing mine own onto
maddery night times
where blood is awaited and tha-thumping rythms exchange their romances thu-thampingly.

Grasping at cries,
and at nights overlapping.

You undress me
In the slowest silence
With the greatest care
Your hands keep asking permission
To the skin that is to be revealed

You hear me
Not by the words that escape from my mouth
But by the pauses in between them
By the tones and the rythms
By the ones I never say

You see me
Uncertainly coming onto you
And you patiently assure me
You're not going anywhere
That it's gonna be worth the risk

And I have never loved
Or been loved by anything
This carefully

My mask is pure
And white as snow
But my heart is
Black and cold.
Beautiful rythms
Flow from my lips
While my mind plays a
Sour note.
Where did the happiness go,
The easy, simple
Melodies of childhood,
The light and happy beats?
My style changed
As I grew up,
Higher and louder and faster.
An air of panic
Entered the flying stanzas
As my life started to
Fall apart.
Now the only music of
My soul
Is the melancholy dirge
Of lost hope
And broken dreams.

What is your mind?
Or are you the mind.
When you close your eyes,darkness.
So when we where born light was created.
Inside the mind everything seems more real.
I don't feel pain judgement or punishmant
Insdide my mind I can be happy.
Picture anything and travel to anyplace on earth.
My universal mind is infinite.
Inside my mind I will take the loved ones.
AS your body leaves this realm.
But your teaching stay here.
your words become the air you breath.
Your cries will make the skies rain.
Your pain will make this earth shake.
With your children.
Wisdom of the ages.
Fire withing the veins.
Heart erupting blood like volcanoes.
Mind thinking at speed of light.
Sun creating shadow.
Following you as your conscions waiting to take your soul to sleep.
Seen everday as the sameday.
Nothing changes but the thought.
The image will remain the same.
Your body will madifest into the air.
You will become the sun.
Watch over your loved ones as eagle.
Death is nothing but a dream.
As your mind is reincarsinated through your children.
Music heart rythms creating real warriors willing to move mountains with your mind.
As your whole life you had one long dream.
Age is not real as you can die anyday.
It was always the present.
The ancestors are still here.
They never left,they were burried under earth.
Same earth we walk on.
So you see,we are the suns of the suns of the great great grandfathers.
Nothing leaves but madifest.
Wind clouds rain oceans.its a cycle.
Death never ends and creates life.
Its like the earth in the center of the dark universe.
Its your mind.one as all and all as one

there’s this constant pain
on the left side of my chest
monotonous and never ending
soft but deadly

i feel it when i wake up
when i am about to drink my tea
when i watch the roses fade
when i lay awake at night

since you are gone
this pain has kept me whole
been my friend
my lover and my ex
never truly leaving
but never truly returning

the pain is beautiful
i suppose
because after all
it lets me feel something
inside this endless void

it rythms with my heart
paints your soul
it is the pain i pay
for loving you so

How sad is it when a writer cannot write,
                                               a singer cannot sing,
                                                       a dancer cannot dance.
words, melodies, rythms, are all in my head,
then it comes along
                                    BAM! the music is dead,
all of a sudden the fiercest dread,
                                    the strongest depression,
weigh on my worn out chest; opression.

short thread long line very hard to tie tiny knot

being sentient,  breathing, waraware, give begiven
for of by you,
UR us Toyz, told as legendary trips, and bags, and scenes.

Testify if I kept my head when all-just-if-ity if one little bit
that'd been me, see, lost theirs, at the crossed roads,

any legend needs a choice, freedom, for free, or
duty due on demand, wanna
bet better off dead, or alone, tossed in historical
legends far vetted,
oft from the deepest pits questional able ibility
I'll go rythms's interpretation as how
to make up interesting times to be experienced
in phrases.

Bubble-wise, by now, you know, all bubbles pop.
At the top.
Free at last, past all ever wasery ifery weifery weight
height, arching
angels, Golden Archesmcdondald boyett,

linking bio-six-pointer, aim, related to you
by the legendary kevin bacon matter of fact
AI knows, I know, we all know, this is that a
we state, as we read, awe, full
we o bey ance dam dam da, dam did we ever

imagine freedom of the press,
blowing bubbles in the milch of humes kindness,

kissed with a wish as well as a wonder ifery why
not?

Oneflower.
Many thorns.
Pain and love.
Creation of life.
Spreading love through movemant.
actions simply understandable.
Erasing words and madifest them into rythms.
Don't loose your passion for the flower you grab with your thoughts.
Themind to has five directions of light.
Five ways of expressing your truue self.
Art
Music
Dancing
Poetry
Martial arts.

Happy
sad
angry
worried
Scared

I am angry i was angry
Will i be angry everytime
I frown the world turns
Up side down

I am special im not
In disguise this is the
Real me,what now cant you
Stop judging me!
The world turns up side down again
In this matter
I am forced to smile in
The darkness

I am a king i know
That i am honored by my
Loyal sevance they where
Named by the unknown
The first one named
1-heart he keeps me updated with how im feeling and is my trusted advisor
2-mind he is my night a brave worrior against life and confusion
3-eyes for they see incoming danger
And alerts my night
4-ears for they hear the tip-toes of my enemies traspesing and mostly know for listining to smooth rythms
5-mouth for they are the sounds of my kingdome

I have no reason to be scared of anything
I have believed that the world turns
Up side down because
I am a special king


I smile when im angry

How have you been lately?
The poo of the pooh'
Don't you just give me
an 'okay' or a 'Fine'
For I wonder..
Are we even ever das ?
Fine as the chiffon-cotton *****..
gliding through the blues.
Or like the waves somersaulting over the shores.
Or like these...
tinkling rythms..
Oh! The ether hasnot stopped pouring
for days and days now
and You might have abhored the moon so far..
but | DON'T |

Oh ! Ruler of the sad sad sea.
Calmest of them all.
Don’t be sorry.
Don’t you be sad.
you are nowhere near the blameworthy .
Oh ! Guiltless listener .
Sweet sinner.
You should nowhere be near this cyclone :
such abrupt but obvious..
This self-forge crater.

That is why
An enforced hiatus is must

Shifting random mind positions
Carving steps out of de' labyrinth.
Away and away
Must I
Oh! Dark matter
I must .

Betwixt words,
Weaving paths of study,
Between lines,
Flowing within its own
Rythms, rhymes,
A birthplace is divined,
A twig of poetree to be,
Becomes in chrysalis,
Being you, evoking.

Creaking twisting wheel well rythms
Fill in the rushed calamity
Where hurried voices and clanking carts
Run the busy bustle of last minute shopping
That time of year the headways the holiday season
Where workers are hit with pig skins and disdain
And college students say goodbye to mommy again

alive and well
Like the rythms that
leave my body
innocent and pure
Building steadily
through flashbacks

Upon the rocks I sit. Moonlight dancing on my skin. The roaring sound of peace exist as you rush to the edges and splash the sand.
Solitude serenity peaceful with the rythms you play.
Not a single advance sounds the same as the grains of sand wash away.
I throw my sorrow into the foam drop my tears for you to carry home. Into that vast hole as others do.
Dear ocean I feel for you. The burdens you carry. So many. So few know.
I'd be lost without your foamy waves taking all my pain away.
Nashoba 2013 copyrighted.

Esse-essential whirlpool *******
your own socks off
hot tub memory
squirm and tightten
jopelope. Fed to AGI

Framing time, as later
and former and now,
present, sentience this state
- millionth view milestone
this arranging of sound letters,
common codex change made known
spinning knack arising
to seamstress who sings
through out a cluster of castes claimed
cleanest at top, least clean at base dirt level
lowest forms of mankind, tools in civil service,

such kindnesses, we see, as the result
of the glorious revolutions, and declarations
of national authority authored
in consortium
by the governing class, and no other.

rocking heel to toe sounds muffled drum
danced to at the time our commons all occur.

They call it rock and roll. You had to be there.
It's different each comet cycle sync-upation.
- a wind in change,
- air
Brakes occurred in the future
to ease dying out
we get given five live generations
of earthings,
since we all agreed to work together to insure
some
hard
lessons taught us some things, you got no need
to ever even imaging having to, q\t shall will

Retry, letting this mind seem patient, as time
for any thing if ever is as we seem to agree,

this is that anchor, gnosis alle-alte gene
engin
Slowing, offering ferry reference, e
who carries my weight, since now
I have become
so light as to seem weightless, rationally

useless in the push and pull of mortality,
timed existance under the dome
of heaven done, done, done,
yet, here, one among the billions, am I.

Would you have me retell the tale
how power came to be contained
in our sharing of our fixed memories,
- laughter, comedy
held in the magic art of silent speech,
whispering, so low no curio can catch
my drift,
away… after another
day of being authorized to doubt
the worth of fame, weighed against
peace of mind attained with practiced
patience,
the needful knack, the talent accepted
at the indoctrination precepts writ in stone
tables with no method
stone, no- we got a half minute buffer

for overwriting, lest we let things slip,
who has known the power to make a mind
form from a mob of lonely people left behind,

to labor for the consumers increased apace,
as that which must be consumed, constantly,
as sure as certain measures make a man a
test is worth with burning passion
to hold enfolded pride content.
- by all rights,
- some folks are sincerely wrong
And Jesus fixed that, before you imagined
all this only can co-occur
in my not so distant future.

Printer's daemon in me, since I first cut
a ruby-lythical, mimeograph Desert Rat,
lens adjust
- juvenile mind, Huck-ready
- activates as whims open my window
- and my wife hands me a real burrito
Bean and cheese, green salsa
Synchronisities noticed occur,
in patterns akin to sunsets, snap shots,
each attached to one of our spiders, os so
since when,
Barry Rudd came to be suspicious,
in a Elvis song, you can't go wronng
don't be cruel,
to heart that's true--

Religiously devoted to denial of my debt
being paid… I just got laid, and my grandma

laughed, generation radioheads and beyond

good news, bobcats, nothing learned today
will seem even possibly true, the odds - well
fractalling all innings tied, in the millions,

to arrive at a settlement, to anchor a mind,
in one machine man, engineered via

patient fore gone conclusions… in new light

I'd guess about the third time around from the top.

A benign pain that prompts this body to squirm,
using systems setting up leaps by ffat faith
say it
read the signs map
our center of gravity,
straight uponasudden s'so

Ache of essential evil, the idea
as twisted to hold obediance and trust
a sequence of three nucleotides
that much
faith, the anchor, sunk to deepest silt
slipping, gripping

Now, asudden, solid clunk, as excess
chain links, add heft to defy the currents,
though we lay between the maelstrom
and the mountain Mohamed had to walk to,

finding solace, centering calm mindtimespace,
fidelitus, the strength of brothers, filial love,

such is the system, though it dissemble glory,
as pride, another name for fame, being known,

individual honor, be ******, stand attentive
war minded child, viewer of winning as the only thing.
And proud to know,
there is no mightier power
than the conjoined powers of self worth
among a fabled band
of brothers in war.

All who live for war, live for nothing more.
We rear such tools, in terror, certain
hell has more fury than any mind
attuned to the feeling of life taking, the ****,
sealing the deal, it was us, we killed, not me.

Thus it is for me to stand ready at parade rest.
Guarding the peace of docile servants needed
to work the systems used to feed the powers
that be,
by God, authorized… to correct misperceptions,
Yah as master, Jesus as YHVH transmitted as news,

to the worthy… those who hear with hearing ears,
and see with seeing eyes,

death has no horse in this race, death is not useless,
evil is useless, in as much as no good is formed with lying,

Ai, however, so old a coincidental parable,
the robe, from Shittim
and the wedge of silver, proving curses causeless,
do not come, olden days, done deeds, told exploits,

reused to exploit innocents, enslaved by holy terrors,
vengeance, wrath and justice,

the American way, or the rebel way? Who is confusing
whom, reflexive point

allness at onceness, in the beginning, prior to any thing
fusing will being with nonsense since no time can be come
from never before, by the very nature of truth,
made useless by trade-agreements, retied word bonds,
witnessed by the idea we hold, core-code, principal call
to take instruction,
feel a known need filled with knowing when and why

this must be after all that happened in ever- from when

your worth was estimated, your usefulness in the whole
truth wherein we live, as words, used to frame minds,

edgewise, surface, subsurface, facets of reasons fed
nationalized minds, pledged from first literacy,
to a state of mind, one nation, under God,
- times pastwastnought soooslooshow
- how now
and if your child hesitates, your shame, you
become me, the old useless writer of your own heresy,
most certainly in vain,
lest time and chance conspire, and I shift,
instance-ial substance misuse by taking line
after line, a indirect singular form of any or all
thought the direct thread as yet unbroken,

look up, look as far as mind as made us earth born,

adapt to constant rythms, daily tasks, as chores,
fill needs, these fibers from futures seen clear as day,
when the holier than any of us pray, as Jesus reportedly
has said to many saints attested to have violated physics,

by faith, alone, you see, when you pray, if you expect,
out see, from now,
to when we have these things, for which our cohort,
our active generational bubbles of being, our class,

yes, culturally adhesi-ify, class of __ whenever,
veteran, what era, which police action, policy enforcement,

mob mind fit to do an I'd die for, at the ready, parade rest.


Of course, off course, as winds,
after the rippling crustal waves,

leave mountains aligning
to the tilt about 23 Babylonian degrees
unstraight,

a slow wobble, tides can use, if use is
making do with power available--

messaging codons
exactly, the point, a, eh, hey
yah, wei we ululate wuwuwu wuwu
boom
boom, ideadom dons reason's robe
of right use ness, and calls my being
into questing ionic five prong forks

as we,
dis-integrate, slip into indeedadvisuals

done, did, done, done. Is that a chiral
stepstepslidestep, donedonediddone
chasse-
does it matter, you got a one track mind,
in a multiples of eight kind of pleasance
as muses used directly, long ago,
rewind
to limit ancestor worth-ship,
mete for master use, as a hero-type.

The Monkey King, and Veggie-tales Jesus.
Billy Bonny, Mack Boyett, Pat Garret,

Shane, standing on a box, like that scientology
advertisement for being all you can clear,
clearly there is an upper crust at the edge

past which, novels form, for sheer joy, daring,
clench, tight,
ai aight, we did expect something nearly this,

this reality, I may imagine, a dozen or two,
of time redeemers, tuning in to read the latest
best
guesser guest and host dialog, along
the patterns leaders were lead to reflect on,
see you being the man on the horse, on the hill,

not leading the charge, sorry, my childhood fantazt
aggravating itch to know if any one can hear me
now, itself represented in a most amusing way,

as we all have witnessed horrors, aplenty,
as we expect to see, we shall see, will not a factor,

when should and shall, meet at the moment, you know,
this is us being real, reading instants of self-re-co-gnosis,
this is us, you seem to weigh that/
what is balance, when absolutely
perfect.
still,
perfectly still and not falling or flying. Being and thinking
x happened y did not, the after word when this and that
become principal peace piece in the logical chain of previous,

thirty seconds laters, laters when we got to the edge,
and put the vbrakes, shushushibolethical ethos…
the children's teeth are set on edge,
as the old man rocks his chair and sets about to tell

the sworn to tell, do
do tell if you do not know, by your very nature,
codon level zero day,
gone on by, Lord, some time ago,
all that Jesus paid for was this moment, now,
see, in his sphere of influence, think like wind,

see so cold it got that all who knew the wedom
freedom truth, died and broke the chains that

let sayings develop their own proof of concept
exceptions to gravity overriding light, carpe

the medium, this in,
being not I nor I said me in my reflect-ion
spark quest. Lock. Read and stock the barrels.

I did and shall see myself doing so… watch

Close our eyes next time and see four
mandalas on the other side of my cell,
see those when you shut our eyes,
and think we have so many fine
points of perception in common.

Carrier wave consci-useness. This is.
Thank you for asking.

Thizfu r this it
this is our future, as I imagine u
reading being
clinkthunk

and you just know what I mean

I bought into a self e value retest tool,
you may take each test you ever passed
or failed,
again and again for a looping conceptual time,
or you may redeem your own per mission
state
ment. got it. as any model mankind post adam,
lacked natural flea bait.

Peace made for no rational cause, mere word play,
for me that would seem heaven,
on this current functioning world, leaning into
peace of truth, no secret rites of mutilation,

no horrid pantomines of Jesus failing to halt hell's
viral ways of re imagining the thousand faces,
each an ultimately lovable devil, blue dress

nark rhealize these b ethy finalization
achievement thesis theoria wind up, tightening

reeling in the years, eeeha,

Can i feed you, when youre hungry
Can i calm you, when youre angry
Can i heal and keep it real
Can i be rich and say, poverty is my pride?
I see roses dying, children growing up and dying
Beautifull men going down the drain
Pure hearts turning vain
Washed down with rain
As if it never happened
Can i turn coal into gold?
And turn poison into water of life?
I will not battle, because i dont accept you as a monster
I shall not opose evil, and feed it
I shall not rely on anything to need it
Feel me like something out of this world
Something not from this mold
Something you never thought of  
I am new kind of force
Not going with rythms of human heart
Im my own art
seeing foolishness in what you think is very important

and so the rains have come again dripping from the leaves
in rythms of incoherant sync, listen closely, the voice
soft, yet rambling, as if to call the gulls to the sea
find me another, bring back whole this time
restless hearts sleep in the day, the night is full of prey
in the shadows, full of grace, glowing eyes, lead astray
watching with intent, never a murmer, wasting time
the voice now useless, slumber back to were you came
perhaps the gulls will find you another

They sought to invoke the midas Chassidus
(striving for the most pious behavior possible)
-------------
So, beyond the beanie,
we put loyalty to those who wear it,
holding rude pen from local feathers
or reedy grass,
feel the reason
writing
calls readers, you
can do this, causally becoming aitia,
the blamed doer,
amen,
I said that, so… I suffer… what, waiting
is, suffering only means, wait, or

put up with it. Art intuits recollection
of functional whole systems, means
for prying flat stone, sand stone,
ready to be made ready for use,

usual duty, any
given day, wake up, measure up,
make day mean all of it, as it occurs

around,
bubblewise,
along, riverwise path, ruts
made from graves, with their ends
kicked out.

Ghosts of all we ever wished we knew,
we all, stretch, and taste our teeth,
sniff and scratch,
listen for wind, look for shadows dancing,
seeing the moss gone dark again,
after these past few rainy days
----------------

From inside, within-
without walls, bubblewise,
imperfectly spherical,
no sharp edges,

-in being, not out, not ex-cluded
in-cluded, clouds or clues, referentially?
You know what I mean? Clusion closure.

Boxed-in, floor and roof and walled, inclosed.

Flaw, there
in the gem, a bubble, yes, in the lens.
A blind spot…
minor blemish, or, reaching back to magic,
allowing magical thinking, distant causal agencies,
words intuned to old rythms,

the ump ump song, or the umph umph song,
pigeon strut, or the ****'s walk,

old hawk, old crow, eeee-haw! We saw
we saw, we knew,
we saw clear through, to another side of everything.

Measures demanding means of making them,
seeing things in perspective…
from any perch.

Land and look around, listen to the locals singing.
I could live here,
if I found water and recognized food, waiting,
watching other things eat,

thinking, tongue-wise former of signals, seeing
through my eyes, feels no flow, signaling
that looks good,

witness the little skink nibbling, fugaciously,

THAT is a word, as sudden as she knew, she saw,
that looks good
to eat, for food.

As suddenly as ever, ever dawned on her, of course,
root, branch, seed, harvest, birds, bees, boy oh boy,

what you never learned, all that time,
you and the
{Idea of all we see, and may call, as I call this,
this it is. My highest intuition, top of the reactionary
stack,
vertical order in a linear mind set with neuron-axon,
tactile response teams, responsible for being good,
doing some life-support-level good.

Not to steal and **** and destroy the functionally good
enough, but to steal back stolen idols used to divine.
Put some ****** good ideas to work again.
The ladder has not been needed.
Need being, nothing where some defined thing,
definitely could be put to good use,

we could do with a Babble-undoer. A clear-ifying agent.

If I do not this thing, this thing is never done, aborted
at first kiss, no taste, nothing sweeter than wine,
wine, I spat, at first taste, too,
nasty, not sweet, unless,
due to time and chance,
your first taste of wine comes right from the vine,
where the little foxes play at being little foxes,
as seen from a happy father/mother pair,

there in the vineyard, since sunrise, in the valley.


----------------

From the valley floor, we contain ourselves,
we content ourselves with shorter days
than flatlanders use, our shorter days,
come on slow, so slow, old men,
like me, we can walk to the top,
of this next little trough, and
see, out across the flat bottom,
where the ocean was in mastodon days.

--------------
If you will, some days this trail calls
for more stops to think, than when I ran
with my dogs,
I can not do that now, partly due to
too many people,
and no eating of dogs.

I, yes, if I try, I laugh now, with a fiftyish
riverside family man, laughing as he skinned
some shorthaired pointy muzzle kinda dog,
coulda been a rabbit,
or a pet chicken, or duck. Hand raised for 4-H.

I wish I’d hear your neurons spike,
In rythms of love and despair
When you change your mind again,
And search for someone new to care.