iI don’t wanna fix you , I wanna heal you as you heal me Inadvertanly , we do it anyway because we are happy I wanna feel you , as you feel me I wanna know you as I know me I wanna touch you , on metaphysical planes And see the star’s shine out of your *** , as you see mine Fly with me, my love , fly with me to the unkown lands where time hold no power Where the flower is preserved in the desert mist And the animals are small and the trees are big Where penguins live on land and zorros hunt I’ll keep you warm in the winter nights so we can fall asleep at sunrise Or maybe tonight we’ll get to bed before twelve and see sunrise instead And salute the sun with our yogic bodies Lets see the town built on the hillside , precious gems of house, stand blue and pink , perhaps we can walk the cobbled streets and stop for a drink; in the stand up bar sipping coffee or whisky who knows how far We can travel the lands by plane or by car Lets hold hands as we stare at the galaxies underbelly in a desert where there has never been rain We’ll welcome in the water to the dry drought that’s awashed our planet, They say We are emerging from a mini ice age , that is a drought of warmth, of love, of feeling Some call it the Kali Yunga either way they prohacised this Lace like web is splendid for all to see , all to share Lets build a world for us where we can care Lets make a business of our happiness and smile: Smile at your smile so you can smile at mine , endless smiles Until I kiss your soft lips as the rains fall and we don’t mind getting wet at all I remember you said you hadn’t met anyone who didn’t mind getting wet like that , or something along those lines and how time flies Our futures collided the day we met , infact we’ve been waiting for this we’ve been building for this , if we had met any sooner any later there wouldn’t have been a chance in hell , we needed each other then more than ever And so we answered the call and prehaphs that can be our greatest contribution our humble contribution to this revolution , the full cycle Our love child I feel like with you , my future could never be dim , traveling whilst sitting still Evoking the unkown in our hip hugs and our last hugs I wonder if anyone else has felt this before? The great wonders we’ve found at the shores of lust and the shores of greed and the shores of plentiful need Will you heal the world with me? We will heal what we can and no more For me , that is plenty

Allusions of Inspiration
--Jacob Dexter Coffey--

To strive or slay-- question my thought,
The sleep eternal-- 'tis which I fought//

I trouble through the dual choice of tree,
Decide in wood of yellow fall-- which path will be?//

Tick-thud-in thought- a pain of mind,
From the deed done- now sound will bind//

Can think I not with rap-tap-tapping on the door?!
Is it a caw and crow again once more!?//

Out-out- brief challenge of the soul,
The stupid stranger- heartless- fueled by coal//

The trek through story of the fake,
The triggers put all things at stake//

Resist the trickery of Death and Man,
For he will surely betray all he can//

The riders- harbingers of apocalypse,
The horsemen out the seal as open it rips//

The untold portend of yet to happen,
Dystopia of burning books and a futuristic den//

Crimson capes and men of steel,
Slinging spiders- super speed- mutants in a fantasy so real//

Cameras watching with no privacy,
We turn on ourselves in the future destined to be//

The epic tale of bearing no sword against beast,
Then celebrate with a bountiful feast//

Directing death- divided district devolution,
Dictatorship to demolish over-population or revolution//

And swish and flick of age old oak,
Concealing magicks from the eyes of mortal folk//

The tragic tale of lovers true,
Dream to die rather than unite house of red and blue//

Burning bright in rotting night,
Iron immortal eyes with symmetrical bite//

A scarlet alpha letter to curse thy name,
Illegitimate life and local negative fame//

The sparkling thirst of blood in stone cold skin,
The fight with fur borne beasts will not reach fin//

A man of sonnets- from script to theatre talent flew,
To dictation adding words-words-words two-thousand new//

A women locked her mind and skill away with antisocial tone,
Nameless arts with punctuation by dash and riddle unknown//

Another woman wrote of girls and loves,
But denied herself the gift of white dress and doves//

A peaceful New Englander with flawless inks,
A name of winter's harsh bite that sinks//

The fiction scientist that will foretell,
He said we all will be free only with the knell//

The man of the grotesque and gore,
Filling heads with horror and gruesome lore//

The speakers and tellers and sharers of tale,
Impression and inspire each time without fail//

Unabashedly Public (return of the babies; my broken ribs, Zenith poem)


~for Sue Huff~

“unabashedly public,” the accusation,
causes me no blushing consternation
for it’s true, no secret kept worse, than this,
my sleeves, all outside-stained, heartfelt red,
the poems hide so little, with exception of my multifarious,
multivariate, semi-secret identities y’all mostly ferret out

“had no plans to look you up,”
but you kept sending selected of the eldest children,
even from 2012, I remember an afternoon well,
the odors, the food, my friend Al, now passed,
who made me think, indeed,
where do the poems come from?

a bequest to my eldest, who still never calls,
never writes, but will call me for help when
he finds himself in jail, or needs my (car) services;
its been a couple of years, but suspect time
is on my side, life makes needs, those **** happenstances,
that are never happy, but require your lawful presence

and on and on,

men & women, discovered, by their poetry reveled, revealed,
in thigh highs and backhoes, keepers of tortuous promises,
doing the quiet way, always asking, what’s the honorable thing,
all uncovered here, and secret sharers, these poets grab a holt
of my eye ducts, gifting insights that my brain tearfully inquires,
how did they know that bout me, these new kin and kindred?

my broken ribs?

the knowers know i am a summertime creature.
What they do not know, that on the last day
on where I summer shelter, a thin ring, a tree ring,
appears around my chest, marking my annualization,
some rings thick, thin, a year of seasons, all at different paces,
a year of rain & pain, thicker, slower did it pass

What they do not know, these fateful poets, all of my one faith,
these rings deep go, beyond the surface, constricting contractions,
they tighten, squeezing the lungs, slowing the breadth of my breath,
breaking ribs, reminder to write better, now that time is shortening,
labored breathing is a breathtaking experience, do, be better, chances for kindnesses lessened, why hide, time to be unashamedly public

had no plans to write today, especially this one, but circumstances
of my added-on circumferential measurement appearing, triggered by y’all sending me my poems of long ago, played mind-gotcha, this rambling emerged, to celebrate my being nearer to thee, thee, my passing, nearer than thee, this, me old-crust pieces, cutting the mouth’s soft-inside, inside softness, place where weeping & writing
leak on the poem tongue directly

to live in harmony with the
unending quests that yet, always need doing,
all in, are you, am I, awaiting your best attentions,
giving you thy own reparations, given to yourself;
if this then be my own equinox, autumnal equinox,

when the sun is at zenith, directly above,
the equator, this then my reparation, my

                                          Zenith poem**


9/24/19 12:15p

Three visible stars
Glass of tempranillo
The final pages of
For Whom the Bell Tolls
Clear calm skies
Breaths settle senses
Like calm leaves after wind
Quiet spreads through trees
And the house
Returning to roots, foundations
Sharers of the evening moon
Heaven and earth - drowsing
The dormant volcanoes
We are, occasionally able
To release hints
Of the indescribable thing

Yes, I still feel her breath against
My ear, as asleep as my
Arm that I
Will not need to move until she
Turns in a dream,

And I sink into my own.
Never again will that passing
Train throw
Blue light shadows on the
Ceiling above

My head where her smoke
Detector
Blinks its little, red light of
Reassurance.
Whiffs of lilac as I cross the

Street to her place
Where she is waiting.
All yesterdays, now.
The right songs still summon
Recap videos of our year-and-a-

Half in
Love behind my eyes.
Not choosing suffering,
I curl up underneath a warm
Blanket of what

Was; what can never
Truly be taken
Away.
And rest.
Sometimes something flowers

With such
Grace that its passing away
Simply cannot unfold as  
Any less graceful.
Ghandi shot in the chest, meeting

The Void whispering:
Ram, Ram, God's
Name, as if saying: "I'm coming,
Look, ma': No hands!"
No attachments.

Lovers no more, friends for life, 
Once sharers of
Intimacy and
Laughter, tears and everyday
Moments; little

Grains of gold.
Our own buried treasure
Where ex marks the spot, and the
Map is riding on
Kisses blowing with the

Scent of lilac and the sound of
Magpies chattering against  
Trains as if saying: "Just try, I'll
Take ya!"
Our attitude

In the nutshell they
Peck at with hungry
Beaks, leaving little traces like
Runes in powder snow.
To be nothing but grateful, even

For the days that could have been
Better. To miss her with a
Warm heart, content.
Wish her more happiness and
Security than I did even on

The days of
Our most intense affections.
Parting is part of Life, and
I'll remain at peace with
The parts both

Before and
After, until
My arm is
Forever asleep with the
Rest of me, resting.

In your name, my country, I write today
For all the voices that cannot speak
For all the voices that are silenced
For all the wailing children unheard
For the mullahs and the pandits and the priests
For the politicians and the newsmakers
For the consumers and sharers of “news”
For all the women who bleed onto to the dry earth
For all the animals who are tortured
For the weak who toil in the burning sun
For the strong who drive their air-conditioned SUVs
For the singers, poets and artists
For the farmers, masons and carpenters
For the babies who will know only this way
For the old who remember how things were
For the ones caught in between
For the children and women *****
For the rapists drunk on power
For the believers and the non-believers
For all of us and all of them
In your name, my country, I weep
In your name, my country, I hope
In your name, my country, I believe

My memories, like lightning bugs,
flash then disappear from my imagery.
Redundancies of an aging mind; an hourglass
with only inches left.
“We become contemporaries with our own ancestors”
and taking a close seat,
We listen for lessons, for understanding and,
perhaps, forgiveness both ways.
Time like a sunflower, which slowly dries,
blown by winds singularly drops seed.
Birds flock, open-beaked, break open substance,
leaving random survivors to sprout.
In a dark field clouded by time my eyes try to focus
to read the code flashing
As grains drop among this tall stand of acres
and acres of glowing sunflowers.

This is the true format which gets truncated on this site.  Drives me crazy, LOL!

Secret-sharers
My memories, like lightning bugs, flash then disappear from my imagery;
Redundancies of an aging mind; an hourglass with only inches left.
“We become contemporaries with our own ancestors” and taking a close seat,
We listen for lessons, for understanding and, perhaps, forgiveness both ways.

Time like a sunflower, which slowly dries, blown by winds singularly drops seed.
Birds flock, open-beaked, break open substance, leaving random survivors to sprout.
In a dark field clouded by time my eyes try to focus to read the code flashing
As grains drop among this tall stand of acres and acres of glowing sunflowers.

The mouth speaks what the heart feels
And hidden truths are now revealed
Our words can give life or bring death
The power of God is in our very breath
What is in our hearts comes out of our mouths
We have control over what is allowed
If we are what we consume
There shouldn’t be any room
For vileness and hatred to take residence
When we show the overwhelming evidence
Of love and truth gentleness and peace
Patience, faith and prayer that doesn’t cease
This is how they know us: they know us by our love
In this we show our kinship with the Father in Heaven above
And let us not dwell on other’s faults
But seek first to find our own
And bringing judgement to a halt
We find that we have grown
Love your sister and your brother
Though they may have a different mother
There are hundreds of languages in the world
But love is universal and a smile is unfurled
They know us by the fruit we bear of peace and unity
With eyes of love striving for a world in harmony
The outside is a manifestation of what is within
Do we reflect Christ or are we soiled by sin?
We are Christ bearers light bearers
Salt and light to the ends of the earth
We are truth sharers and Armor of God wearers
We are here to bring about a time of rebirth
So my friend guard your heart and guard your tongue
So you may stand victorious over the evil one
I pray your words would give life and your life would bless
And God provide what you need no more and no less
So Speaks the Heart

We are the tellers of our own story
The makers of our own destiny
We are the sharers of a cast
The cast of us
A stellar reservoir of superstars
We don't appear in magazines
We are the figurines that stand in life
Watch dreams get smashed to smithereens
We follow the theme of living, occasionally giving
Kissing,wishing,missing,loving,kicking,killing
Anatomicall­y the same yet unwilling, fearing living
Whilst each of us unique we all are composed of stars
We all hold within us the chic mystique of being human.

For 13 years I loved the books
They were my best sharers
Last two years I knew that
Those I have been knowing for 10 years
We're more than my friends
But it was too late that high school ended.

In a new haven
I started to love someone more..
I started to notice the blues of sky.
I began to love poetry
The hues of the world
Blush of the wind..

But now I'm back to books
This time I'm not reading
But I'm inscribing the pain of love
Into the torn pages

Suppose we were lunar,
ventriloquists and sisters and bed-sharers still:
your mouth would open so mine
did not possess that dry cement quality.

If my toenails were painted,
those fingers would be a shade as pastel.
You sophisticate. We would dangle
our limbs on each other like they hung over a

bridge and could not betray us,
the fall would be interrupted by delicate lace
or that photograph of us in twin hairdos.

And when you hurt me,
I had to scrub your stench from my bones.

DILLEMMA SOLVED
I  have many a time wondered
Why do they ,
They  the; bond sharers
Unknown to each
But well known to each  
Shared by the core of love
THUS; the dilemma in me

My fingers pressurizes on these letterpads
Waving
The dilemma is cleanse  cleared factually,
Falling in it

Hast thou found honey?
Eat so much as is good for thee,
thinking moderation then, success.

Ah, the analyst's probe, is it satisfying?

Child mind alerts, perks up its ear,
single minds have single ears, child mind
focus state, un monitored you, recall, child
minding your own business walking in the road.

Accepting having RSVP'd, we'ld wonder at first,
did we actually ask for this, or is this all made up?

Child mind cocked sure, I know.
We are all an alien probe learning the questions.

Each letter holds an American English phonic response…
and we… the elite sharers of knowns gleaned from scripture.
--selah, also means let it rest

The precedent for a post temple social order arose,
and the minds required for that task arose as well, but
as you know, knowledge was closely held, sacred codes,

cost of being called and chosen, male alone, bred to the bull.

Bred to the king of beasts, wed to the dragon whose bones
we have found in the gullet of beached Leviathans…

tribe of Bill Levy, sudden psy-psi dead guy makes a suggestion,
remember the yen to yank reality aright, and think it funny?

Jes' yankin' y'chaim, only be having like
a child's mind, ****-meter counting steps away, flee

the birthing trauma, do the dying well.
Earnest Becker, take a chair, I think I felt you linger there,
death divined most fine state, just wait, settling, you feel.

I managed to survive again.
Every time I wanted to scream but chuckled.
Every time I needed to cry but sighed.
Those moments I felt alone surrounded by people...

I did it. Once again. I made it to another level.
I am alive for another birthday.
I hope my fellow day-sharers can say the same.

We will always know that you know that we’re not just images stuck inside these frames.
We are your classmates,
Debate opponents,
Your team mates,
Dance partners,
Dream sharers,
Steadies,
Ex’s,
Captains and scrubs,
Actors and stage managers,
Cheerleaders and cheerleadees,
But most of all we and you were,
No,
Most of all we and you are part of that unique clan called Upper Moreland High School Class of ‘63,
And for those all too brief aquarian years we came together and created bonds and memories that
We will always know.

He is neither hue nor leucoplain.
No, not mean, just humane.
Hatch to good codes
And harsh to misconducts.
A delight to the grey; a connecting figure.

One of a kind, non-gossiper,
Door keeper to secrets kept.
Not proud of pride.
Cardiac chamber…mon ami:
succour for the low.

His every step is marked on slates
whispered around in shadowy sheds
The grandson of a devout
Who stood his ground
against the horseman and his sword.

Reviled by the sharers of same chalice.
His good, their acrimony;
His smile, their scowl.
“Why spread his hand thus?
We too are Abrahams”.

He feared not for his blood
‘cause the Lamb is on His post.
A slap to Prophet False
who creeps into innocent homes
And peeps through frail shrouds.

Dark apprentice PF called “daddy”
Drunk in mystical drinks: green-eyed monster
Whose sneeze had been snuffed
By his knees that humble not.
Chained, yet darts at the dear.

But the lonely believer staggers on
Eyes gazed on the path.
His conscience, a witness.
A clean heart he offers
To whom his spirit answers.

Campers that Camp
Parkers who Park
Clampers that Clamp
Players who Play
Dampers that Damp
Breakers that Break
Stayers who Stay
Sneakers who sneak
Lovers that Love
Layers who Lay
Dreamers who Dream
Day Dreamers who Day Dream
Flouters who Flout
Shouters who shout
Pouters that pout
Wreckers who wreck
Screamers that Scream
Reamers that Ream
Redeemers who Dream and Redeem
Screamers who scream
Creamers who make cream
Streakers who streak
Readers who Read
Bleeders who Bleed
Tearers who tear
Shearers who shear
Sharers who share
Darers who dare
Carers that Care
Trenders who Trend… That’s trending
Menders who Mend... they're mending
they’re Fixers who fix!
They’re Doers who Do
Not Doubters that Don’t

Senders who send’a
a’ huh huh huh!
Thank you very much!

Deployed in retention
Ensued with belation
Contain the remittance
It’s a conveying of detention
I know more than the knowing has held for us
Knowing is but a contemporary insecurity
Redefine the concept of insecurity
I am nothing but the moment you lost
Inside the absence, I refuel the abscess
Do you want to know more?
I doubt you could even realize
The perception you create
From now to then
From then to now
Realize how little you know
How little you have to know
So you can know

Debate with me again
Tell me what is right
I’d like to know
Not because its right
Not because your true
Not because I want to know
Simply because
You need to express yourself
You need to rid yourself of this perception
Speak to me of it
Tell me all the things
I will tell you what I think
Evolution of the individual will occur
Evolution of thought
Find the reason and the fallacies
In your perception
Pick at the bad parts
Eat them
And learn

Debated in conveyed restriction
I am nothing but the moment of insurrection
Tell me again where I left the content
Where the mind of the moment delayed
I am nothing but your true self
Your delayed self
Can you tell me what I am?
Tell me where I am?
Tell me who I am?
Try again
It might work
Maybe I’ll become what you envision me to be
But to me
I am nothing
I am everything
I am the abscess
I am the whole
I am the void
Tell me where to go
And I will devour it whole
With my little eyes
My little perceivers
The tools at my disposal tell me
That I need to reinvent the perception
The conception
Birth me again
In your mind

Are you repentant?
Inside the mind of yourself
Don’t lose it
Don’t get lost
I can’t tell what is going on in there
I want to know
Please tell me
Please help me understand
I want to help
I want to learn what is going on inside the universe of your mind
Share with me the troubles you experience
Allow me to partake in your perception
Please

I know how long it took
I know nothing of how long it took
Share with the pair
I tell a tail of sharing sharers
Insight of the denial
I combine the telling contraband of retroactive contradiction
Tell me again where I lost my soul
Maybe I’ll find my mind too
Lost in the seas of the sky
Floating among the dirt of the clouds
Dusting in the space of our abscess
Continue for me
In absence of me
With me
I want to show you the stars in our puddles
The grains of sand in our hair grind a song of continuity
Sleep tightly so they may gravel out the notes
Grind and grind the grits of doom
You are telling of a certainty
Continued in absence
I want to retell the tale of telling
Do it again in the absence of abscess
Share the wound with me and I will spit in it
I will mend it with my hate
Tighter than any bottleneck
I will captivate the death of your soul
Share with me the light in your death
Share with me the continuity of your mind
I will delay the momentary perception for you
I will love you from the rinds and mends and molds
I will devour your soul

As a man thinks in his heart, so he is.
Thus the early warning for uninitiateds,

Pomposity, this is not, yawn

hypnopompic (adj.)
"pertaining to the state
  of consciousness when awaking from sleep,"

Accepting the hand stretched toward my spirit,
the idea that is me, in your mind, tenere- root
tension, the push and pull
stretch the minutes into days, yawn
hear,
the rolling of the dough, sticky, folding
butter and sugar and cinnamon in, ah,
coffee, creamed
morning,
in paradaise,
pomp and circumstance, ministers
solemnly stepping up
recommencing the quest, master.

To make a form for spiritual consideration,
of worldly wisdoms and philosophy's guides
granted all with access to the raw data of us,
clear text incontextual time locked eternity,
part one

all we may know, no real secrets lost to time,
all we may know, upon waking in confusion, is

and was known, upto now, but no further, see,

between thoughts comes time, no force felt,
think, what reading really is, is us thinking again,

a gain, a step in the only way time relates
every thing to next, smooth
only on the surface
tension
of our enclosing bubble
of being,
bound
by words we never read, really,

while amused
at the talent
of our acting friends,
where everybody knows your inclusion
in an active Dunbar herd
of potential help,

the one in need, indeed, met

the wedoms, most common groupmind limit,
the size of a military subgroup, hereditary
strategic deployable drilled
to respond
to drum and bugle calls,
now radio, neuro linked,
orders conveyed to science users,
ready made from those so usable,

second string and above, do what you love,
ding, the bell, another round, ding

imagine the power of players taken in,
swallowed whole by an ancient serpent ,

slowly growing from worm to wise will

to oppose untrue why factors, long used
to beautify the imaginable future, if,

eh, Rudyard, who were you watching return
from Balaklava?
Did she force you to see?
Lady Elizabeth Southerden Thompson Butler,
Ai, ai, we totally know, yes,
must be some history in her string of names,

but,
what she projected on to the medium
what she witnessed in her spirit,
she showed us, the after facts,
the faces, the mud, the blood,

weariness and desperation, hope
captain, tell us, that's enough
war for the world to see,
life in color on canvas,
the message is the medium,
in it's pre-acrylic hues from tubes,
the latest advance in painterly tools,
and new colors, brighter, longer lasting

to let the spirit bearing the message,
alive until you stop, and realize,

you may, today, stare all day
at fifty-seven windows into
Lady Elizabeth's
upper crust wisdom,
becoming today's prompt,

To ask, if you do not find it easy,
my assuming you used your will,
voluntarily, to find the art abstraction
taken from the mindshare gone global,

my friends in all the lands enclosed
within the world wide web lattice work,
filtering the light we see through
to objects in mind reminding us,

of awe, the state, aha,
we agree, we sometimes weep
for those who live in foaming lies,

remains of old nursery fixed hates…

Have you gazed a while,
at the messages from Elizabeth?
Have you zoomed in to see
the faces on the nameless,

the glorious-less role call,  no.

I can't not go again, you see, war
and me, we
be adversarials and unreconcilable,
I swore to oppose all oaths to
pomposity, solemn turns first lie
to principal reason, first need met,
Art, making for the sake of making,
in the chaos, see the beauty, we live,
we who use words to capture thoughts,

think, we words, are no longer thoughts,
nay, we know, knowing, science, is
knowledge held as true, even known lies,
and the multitude of uses pride contends
is good to force feed kids, stacking order,
status quo, master and emissary, in one.

As a we form sapience spiritually coherent,
we all must protect,
free thought, raw truth, full function,

breath, modulating noise,
to seem musical.

Whew, hew and cry, scything on…

yes, self analyze,
woe is the skeptic
in America today,

or, no, the other way, today, in doubt's
haying day, sickles at the ready, stone honed,
…
least labor, follow the leader on the right,
starting from the left, northmost corner,
sweeping south along the terminii line,
proprietary responsibility border line,
work worth
sweat, taken as a feature,
water as a gift,
given by the fortuitous cloud catching
streams of conscious muse using,
refreshings, cool, new media,
cool, new colors, look, Spot,
see the images of all the worlds finest art,
right there on your globally tied in common-
uni-cating we conforming information device.

see close, zoom in, zoomers were born to this,
- old boomers who saw these images
- saw them in CMYK
- on shiny magazine paper,
- the message was not as loud as now.
Peace maker companions,
sharers of the one bread's condiments,
take some pride in pulling down imaginations
making peace, where a clamoring lobstrosity was,

warfare in the spirit, make sense from non-
sensible factors determining will to become,
still, observant, ignoring not knowing,
being left in the story your father's faith told
submission to authority, only obey,
-- line up, dress right, at a glance,
-- proceed standing at attention,
= be the message sent by the Bearskin helm.

will-less, submitted, under the orders
in the message most recently made law,
all those covered under the blood of victims,
in order to save the world, we must be ready
to let it evolve, no sweat,
- death has no sting, no lie,
- duty however is a killer,
- and pride the very worst.
Live
as might your favorite Bible character say,
sufferage is alright, wait and see, right,
you can choose your truth,
do the math,
vote by references to
chirality, right, or sinister,
the spinning difference is awesome
we mesh, fi, my talent, fits you
we become a one mind team
involved in mortal conscious
answers to sworn confusions,

Will to ever learn,
is a feature all spinning things use,
to stay in formation as we scythe through
ongoing knowing life is hard,
knowing is easy, taken slow,
bringing in the sheaves,
golden grain,
once worshipped,
worth the sweat,

laughing when the works all done,
was the winter breads and stewed roots,
all sets and settings we may imagine, on earth,
some sense we all share, every where we connect,

all at once, the world was enclosed, in clouds
of precocious proprietary secret methods,
right way to do things, procedures,

reusable code, rituals, rules and consequences,

object, entity in mind, abstraction, a pinch of now.

This is how all that ever matters must begin
in a literary effort akin to scything sown seed,

in a co-op thought pattern, me,
to you, feedback in the medium we share,

the air we breathe, but more enduring ties,
realizable already imagined known, yes,

the very idea that yes contains, on contact,
I know, be it how first or why, I care less,

yes, carelessly I spill my neuronic guts
distinct chakra reasonings, as factored costs,

go with your gut, but
first, grow ripe past pompous display,
look away, look away, do not open

the source code we think we see,

ah, me, too late.