1: Star-spangled hallowed monuments, special moments, exalted people and strident flags flower over a variegated world
2: We all quibble with the temerity of recklessness over an aborning disillusionment that exists because of a disempowered ethos of obtruded ignorance
3: But fear not for the wickedness of the past but rejoice in the prosperity of the future, for certainties will galvanize the rounded character of neoteric generations that listen eagerly to wizened guilds
4: That greet us in every coruscating star already there and meant eventually to be…a smile on every simpered countenance
5:Memorialize God with deference, kowtow to his covenant and respect his munificence for his staggered deliverance of a lovestruck admiration for the niceties of emblazoned beauty
6:But those that slander with decisive sanctimonious calumniation have no seat at the tabernacle of Heaven because they disregard the recondite subaudition of the omphalos of destiny clearly manifest to every discerning eye that is pervious to the reclamation of the Earth from the tyranny of the hidebound quacksalvers
7:There is a Heaven that can be auspicated on Earth if we try to savor the misty evanescence of memory but only if we remain prospective enough to be provident in all germane affairs
8:The limber of rejuvenation can be a bonanza for ecumenical liberation from the scourge of self-flagellated cowardice of wretched ignominy that bowdlerized with the benighted scars of a tepid past
9:We lean on the Tides of Man, but we sail vessels beyond the horizon into eternity and eternity is certain for the righteous because of the consummated penitence of the human race for its momentary lapses
10:Remember the terseness of your father but the ebullience of your mother and prize kin over Jinn because filial nuclear love beyond destruction or double meanings will salvage all armies that fight against wickedness
11:And grant eternal remembrance to the days ahead where there will be fewer infidels to fight because our ennobled universe will sprawl with startling fountains of youth beyond age
12:Don’t squander the limelight of gallantry and an audacity of swift hope and happy beliefs… because a ruddy lovestruck infatuation with beauty and bonhomie will outgeneral the latent evil of graft
13:Swim… never fear the rippled tides of a slinky time that outfoxes all destinies because destiny itself is authored by God partially riddled with imperfection but refined carefully in a stepwise way every encroaching moment
14: We need hope and unity as a human fraternity bound by consanguinity to salvage the greatest age yet known from the dastardly prospect of a tempestuous and infectious creed of censored dreams and aborted hopes
15: All species exist to ameliorate a universe of industry divorced from ****** pettifoggery that is a cankerous sore on the delight of the prosperous and an eternal reminder of the privation of the downtrodden who still wage happiness despite dearth in many circumstances
16: Lift your spirit to the acme of your sentient righteousness and swiftly leap above the quidnuncs to find the distilled love that was always written into the ultimate Book of Life because of the equitable favor bequeathed by the pursuit of happiness
17: Space and abeyance should terrify but never to the extent that we abandon our flickering lambent dreams that amaze and perplex simultaneously
18: But to those who stumble, wage a valorous war to be triumphant as a historicity cemented in amaranthine memories of a gilded age free from most strife
19: Deliver the promise and justifiable prominence of a new covenant made of the same wineskins as the last without being a retread of the outmoded puritanism of steepled conflagrations that sabotage the secular syncretism with the Quaky bonfires of the Age Of Energy (11/1/1755 Lisbon, Portugal)
20: Live life beyond doubts because a requited consolation awaits the dilapidated segments of a lopsided humanity that is becoming more equitable with the stepwise ascension of an evolved historical design that is proffered, anticipated and accepted by THE enigmatic TIME
21: The time is now to reach with hands outstretched and fingers crossed for a shouted proclamation that we are indeed capable of impossible dreams rather than the whimpered wistful qualms of futilitarian purposelessness
22: Auspicate a new year by clinging to the essential, disregarding the dross of yesteryear and savoring the eternal present as tantamount to a parcel of heaven which is indivisible because of the liberty and justice of God
23: For we live in that age where liberation flourishes, the truckled factitious pieties disregarded, and the triumph of the human imagination over the limitless expanse of an expanded firmament which… because of the benevolence of time-honored design… is now pliable rather than refractory….because of the ingenuity of our best soldiers
24: Flicker with the seeds of a perdurable faith and discard the trifles of maudlin confusion that is a pestilential force against convivial festivity and joyous rhapsody
25: Live and let live, give and implore others into giving, for an altruism is better than a solipsism… and an ecumenical consensus enlarges the gamut of the human potential to thrive beyond the umbrageous and tremulous tribulations of self-doubt that endanger human vitality
26: Let the grace of Father Time enrich the progeny of the jaunty voguish human zeitgeists that listen to modernity but always remember the original paragons of righteous conduct on earth and know intimately… in smoldering delight…. the delicacies of heaven
27: Amen

When the world was young I was already old,
and honoured to be appointed guardian.
with fiery sword and great endeavour
I slew the encroaching serp's of air and water
and was acclaimed.
Now in honoured estate I dwell recounting
my past deeds to my own kin,
who wait upon my honest words wide eyed
and think in wonderment.
and yet I am content, the Lord of all things
named me valorous.

Here I stand, away from all eyes
Away from the smell of smog, away from concrete and metal.
Here I kneel, before a tree so tall and valorous.
Though it speaks and sees naught, its wisdom is vast beyond imagination.
Here it stands before me, its leaves so green shield me from from the wrathful sun.
Its tasteful fruit give me strength, the air it purifies fills me with life.

"Hail, my child. Welcome back.
What brings you all the way out here? Away from those you call friends and family?"

The tree speaks? No. From all around, this voice.
A voice so kind and caring. A voice forgotten by many, but a few will slowly remember and hear.
I come here to flee. From those I falsely call my kin.
They are not my kin. My heart tells me so, and I listen dearly to my heart.
I come here to flee from voices, to seek silence.
But your voice... I am drawn to.

"My dear child, so lost and alone.
You seek an attention so many others fail to provide.
Your heart has lead you here, where one would say attention is nonexistence.
One would be wrong to say such a thing.
Here, you are under my care."

The Earth mother.
I humbly kneel before you, for you are all around.
You are the light that illuminates the land, and you are the dark that hides the beasts.
You are the life weaved into the air, and you are the death weaved into the claws.
You are the trees that I kneel before, and you are the age that will one day take them down.

"You need not kneel before me, my child.
I do not ask for your worship.
I may be growth and age, but I do not wish to be remembered.
My work is being done, and my children thrive through life and death.
That is how it shall be."

If you do not let me kneel for worship, then let me kneel for gratitude.
In times like this, I think of you.
Of the food and water you provide, of the air you allow me to breathe.
Of the beautiful animals you care for, and the comforting tranquility your realm provides.

"My dear child, so lost and alone,
Know that while you're here, you are alone no more.
Let my vines hold you gently.
Let my embrace calm and heal you.
Can you feel the rain that seeps through the leaves?
Can you hear the streams flow through the grove?
Can you hear the woodlings sing their various songs?"

Yes... Yes I can...
I'll just lay here and close my eyes,
in your gentle cradle of vines and roots...
Here, I can rest and have peace of mind,
knowing that you will forever protect me and provide.
Here, away from from false family and friends,
But here, within your gentle, yet firm embrace.
I am not alone...
I am not alone...

In the most precise terms accessible to the vast repository of considered lexicon, this passage describes the finifugal destiny of infectious myopia that, when dredged through the rabble and bugaboo of sensationalism that outmodes the modular gravity of vogue chicaneries belonging to the catchpole of the watchtowers that sink into a hibernal abyss by the crafty subversive elegance of the magnetic pull predicated on the prolific disposition of the serenity of nature to overpower the lust for civilization and thereby provide the calm equipoise of the confident desert,even when famished, to overtake those inclined to urbane bustle with the eventual drought of a ****** kitsch world inured to pollution reverting because of an exaggerated hubris embalmed by a composite nurture into the freedom of a leveled compass of moral dignity found in nature, ultimately astounds itself because of peremptory pulchritude. This prophesies a tip-toed dance with extravagance that ultimately humbles even upright civilizations with the magnetism of the elementally pristine to bequeath a licentious freedom of extravagation that philanders on maidan territory--beyond the ******* of the reprisal of peevish cavils of recalcitrant cognomens and the despotic inclinations of civilized but brutish incursion upon the warped reversion of priorities that enthrones serenity above bustle of latitude over the prerogative to jostle the crowded quagmire of inventive but abortive spectacles of tributary happenstances of the newfangled ochlocracy--because the immediate convenience of civilization is destined to crumple by clockwork flaws inherent in machination what nature can carve effortlessly through inseminated rejuvenation.
    It is not because of the rantipole revelry of the noisy cacophony that we are starkly indifferent to the hum of the melliferous agency that leads to ecocentric governance, it is rather because the conflagrations of the crowded humdingers of our times have lapsed into the crevasse of unbounded lewdness of wretched ambsace that purports alienation more fundamental than civilization and thereby provokes a cutthroat collapse predicated on the creamy pettifoggery of saccharine sentiment that creates the rot of urbanity and goads participation in the renewal of the bionomic imperative to cherish the serenity and peace and freedom granted by nature that always conquers nurture by axiomatic consequence because to prepone filigrees of cosmopolitan bravery is contrary to the crass nature of the demur of deferred gravitas accorded not just by ceremony but by rehearsed gallantry that outlasts the sardonic reprisals of flayed anticipation.
      To the reader less lettered than enamored, I intend to remark as a pivotal linchpin of my rudimentary model of the universe that the epigenetic configuration of disorder inherent to the entelechy of physically mandated entropy is an overriding force that, through permutations of our sanitized history ,we discover as the direct autarky of the innate to trounce the willful volition of the artificial because the precedence of nature undermines the imperatives of a filipendulous swing of nurture to destroy itself because the clockwork upbraided thorns of society are more evident and incumbent than the circular irony of the circuitous wiredrawn windlass of feral proclivity to overwhelm the devices of one tragically supererogatory species that undercuts its own virility by sterilizing the future with the noisy cacophony of the epiphenomenal excess of profligate carnality accorded by Original Sin and later expounded and exploited into a titanic hubris that might eventually sink the prerogatives of the metropolis and favor the malingering peace of the remote frontier. I wonder often why aliens congregate in insular proximity to Native American tribes and propinquity to their shibboleths rather than abide by an enigmatic skullduggery to infiltrate lucrative metropolitan tracts and, with delicate entryism, seek to propitiate the inane aspects of population with the delicate poise of interposition and, when I ponder this deeply lugubrious question, I realize it is probably because the aliens themselves are byproducts of an overpolluted society famished eventually by its own adolescent excesses that eventually redound in the fulminations of subsequent dearth and therefore it cherishes the arid propinquity between the natural balance of nature with the composite symmetry of the evolved soluble valence of recycled treasuries of provincial benedictions rather than a global ploy of takeover and turnover because they fear the ultimate destiny of the thronging clangor and obviously prefer the surreptitious entrenchment in tribal allegiance rather than pushful attempts to proselytize an imperious solidarity geared for heroic redhibitions of human defect for ulterior conquest that vouchsafes a degree of ineradicable dominion. Ironically, in the fitful throes of sickness I have convalesced into a singular desultory equipoise with the serenity of pause rather than the drygulch of overmilked tactless celerity that taxes the limitations of even the petty simplicity of the most rudimentary concepts and, through deliberative subroutines, I conquer the articles of subaudition that lurk in remote corridors waiting for the marauding curiosity of unique proclivity to traverse a bypass of directional contingency and summit the immeasurable lengths of the incalculable by measured and sly blettonisms of profound wealth but dramatic appraisal of the rudimentary vineyard for both a pronounced variegation of hypostasized supersolid vagrancies and a selectively culled culinary harvest of slow piggybacks upon even the simplest countenance of endeavor rather than the unkempt rigid sustenance of the formal inculcation and the liberated bailiwick of how an unsung sorrow can elevate the fanfare of the loudest enchantments above the pother of kitsch debauchery.
  On a more relevant note, instinct is often the realm of finicky depredation and libidinous tabanids to oleaginous gimcracks exerted primarily by the geotaxis of regnant pedigree but fathomed more by imperative glorified brawn rather than a self-aware truculence of unalloyed volition exerted by the primitive kinship to violent boorish self-advancement that debases us because of the lurid savagery inherent to many evolved chicaneries ,that remains hidden to even the most glorified ommateum distorted by the glare of distant tantalization, distorts the invictive goals of the ergasia of intrepid lollops of the enantiodromia of entropy. And, because ambition convolutes and flanges the instinctual into importunate articulations that bypass necessity by gouging consequence into redoubled countenance--upon which we all abide to some degree in the maintenance of labile stature that often gets dredged by external impediments to pushful accomplishment to grace--is the stagecraft by histrionic leverage that is a direct byproduct of the ulterior composite of circumstance and precarious fluctuations of character. Essentially, genius manifests when the gluttony of metaphorical siderism that is sejungible from the seismic jostle of the ordinary outweighs the restraint of the ******* to immediacy to traipse above bamboozled tripwires and surmount the restive jealousy of common noemas of subtle verbigerations to heave from a recessive slumber of foothot dreams into the alchemy of inconspicuous levity beyond the admittedly aggrandized and glazed angular momentum of rhetoric to simmer with radiant efflorescence to pay homage to sedimentary notions rather than truckle to the imperial ambitions of predictable leaps to the great fanfare of the proper sabbatical from celerity for the conventicle of the extraordinary plane of the supersensible entelechy of all creation.
        In profound contemplation, what manifests relatively clearly is that the ruinous hesitation provoked by the incumbent din of uproar leads to the whiplash of warbled subliminal tilts in the axis of the chryselephantine machinations--even of the inquisitive--into the free-for-all of the acerbic displacement of the acquisitive to a scalding shipwreck that defies the cordial gravity of demarches of extenuation and further incites a dislodged frenzy of exacerbated priorities becoming jumbled to such a quizzical extent that the dash for jewels becomes the hegira from either afflicted incarcerations of panic or the conflagration of malignant opportunism. In these uncertain financial times, we henpeck—sometimes with extraordinary dalliance and otherwise with bodged exercises in profane self-sabotage—the surface endeavor by the agitprop that congeals, even in the most strident resourcefulness waged against it, to the folly of fulgurant pride in the fruitful bets against prosperity or the ennobled forbearance of the slumbered toil and toll of the taxation of capitalism upon itself that overhangs every specter or prospect for mammon without the overweening clarity of the disclaimer of labile liability because of lapsed conscientiousness. The spread of wizened ripples of the Jehus that dart with provident alacrity towards the myth of catalyzed proliferation without incidental pollution, endanger themselves by the fumes of their own arrogation of mercantile swoopstakes rather than by the contrary coexistence of debased timidity of the rigid priggishness of reluctance which is by far a greater enemy to the financial ecosystem than the outrecuidance of financial temerity because toxicity through accident leads to windfall by precedent because it is a primary mover rather than a flagitious inertia and therefore we should dwell on the immanent accessible treasury of the composite good for invictive truth. Returning to Isaiah, it is proclaimed that justice will dwell in the desert while the fruits of prosperity lurk both in vineyards of conquest and foreign forests of the unknown fertility of grace..because in a sense the vapid lifeless drawl of the beazed comportment of the husbandry of complacent but arid contentment is fashioned in a manner that relies on provident self-containment rather than the industrious bulldozer of calamity that besets dominions of heralded opportunity even when ripe times are precluded by the zeal of the epicurean demands of harvest that eventually famish rather than appease the diet of profane luxuriousness rather than a balance that leans on the notion of balance itself to predicate sustainability that laments its own dearth but never foments the outrage of volatile fortunes won or lost in the casino of opportunism.
    On a highly irrelevant note, the checkered figments of otosis are the ironic endearment of the expected to their expectancy and yet because of wrinkles of iterative doubts roaming the widely spelunked cavern of redoubled demerits subsuming self-contempt, the dregs of the self-important eventually sour into a cynicism that barks loudly at the locked corridor of pride but eventually trespass into the coherence of the incidental that spark the volitions of a self-gaslighted endeavor that creeps incumbent upon most scrutiny but less salient to the otiose obtuseness of the rankled hamshackle of perseverance in sublunary clarity.
   In the etiology of reiterative and normative catastrophe, the morale that severs the parturition of spunky audacity in favor of complacent staples of buoyant regimented alacrity vitiate the trim slaver of the luxuriant grovel into the alcoves of restive libido into the hegiras that hurdle over the conflations between necessity and want and transmute the furor of fitful windlass into a transcendent indelible ethos of ineradicable and endangered regalia of the swamp that, with bricolages of vigor, resorts to lopsided scrutiny of outcroppings of the profane rather than the self-aware poise of scacchic prevenance of ulterior action to the proper congruence of action to the composite reaction of the synectically impaired. In this vein, we must concede that a foundering vessel is often scuttled by self-infliction but ultimately salvaged by the modesty of resistance to plenipotentiary fictions of noisome crotaline tabanids and the recognition of the ramshackle facts of tentative triage in a wilderness vitiated by the alarming abundance of careworn exercises in hubris and overstated alacrity to the dimples of regress ultimately scars the geopolitics of specter and prospect to the extent that pernicious anomalies dart into prominence without castigation or that tremendous serendipities sink beneath the RADAR of the otherwise sturdy panopticon
   Thus, the polity of interwoven statesmanship by prospectus leads eventually to a culminated crux that is retrofugal more than finifugal and, in the absenteeism to the precedent that eventually provokes the unprecedented, we witness the folly of irrevocable design that, when sufficiently abridged by compendium, leads to a swift clarity that ponders vague traces of the superficially coherent into a suboptimal engrenage with contingent stipulations that often backfire because of the crude boorishness of statesmanship ratcheting into a vertiginous dance with instinctual donnism rather than appointing dignified salience the proctor of uncertain but sizable dubiety acknowledged and commanded into clairvoyant action rather than resigned acatalepsy.
  In the resulting vacuum of moral conundrum, it is not enough to predicate our bedrock on flourishing jackals in the wild nor the often lambasted sematic entrenchment of fixated designs of the impending perfidy inherent to every quagmire of bugaboo or foofaraw livid by smoldering embers of combustible and often deliberate begrudgement because the thriving industry of constative vacillations of pandered controversy are in itself ribald albatrosses of coarse conformity that derelicts the penumbra of consensus because of the firebrands of invictive bulldozing vigor to solve rather than to acknowledge the unsolvable to the extent that gridlock becomes an ayurnamat. This is why we witness a floundered perspective of slugabed deliberation contending with peremptory decisiveness verging on a saturnalia of syntax of cotqueans borrowing odium from plucky viragos because the snailed uncial crackjaw dynamics of the unfettered cyanotype for the dashpots of brittle absolution of the slowpoke substance of elevated debate provoke the ornery miscegenation of a hyped fluidity that stagnates rather than prolongs the integral linchpins of the maieutic capacity rather than the redress of incontinence only valorous by the ommateum of the owners of folly. So if outpaced by the cyprian flourish of cursory rhetoric carping on melodies of transparent rapture personified in an intellectual composite, I retain the art of flayed delamination clavigerous--only because of the heist of smoldered efflorescence—because the centered pivot of demegorics is a travesty of monument men relaying variable scaldabancos against modish artifice itself (often without even realizing the circular irony of such endeavors) because the fervor of snappy sizzle disembrangles the intorted ego from reckoning the drollery of the obtuse only to the mutiny of superlative acuity by surgical strokes to convalesce on dittology to reprove even the deftest articulations because of the prerogatives of the uncharted game that is never the behest of lifeless taxidermies of regelation.
    Ultimately the summit of the calculus of all human endeavor is outfoxed by the rapacity of erratic successive spurts of upheaval which can be forestalled by degrees of institutional prescience formed by cryptodynamic enigmas lurking in the troves of myth but the financial calamities we are witnessing are but the byproduct  of rabid scavengers feasting on restive panic rather than the inevitable degringolade of swollen tribunes steamy with an upbeat verve becoming vitiated by programmed incontinence. So what should we do with this crafty rejoinder to a variety of modern checkered quandaries and the skeumorphs of speculation? We should inquire to the utmost capacity to outlast the overhang of aleatory vicissitude and await optimal conditions stipulated by the constellation of veridical information rather than lean on inclement windlass of instinctive gambles predicated on specious fatalism or the contingent backfire of the ruinous roulette of exotic fanfare that shepherds the purblind into mundane degrees of perdition while the chary parlay their Ten Minas into a bonanza by decisive grit.

Life has been never so humorous
It is also not so rancorous;
It is full of injuries and pus,
We have been troubled by cuss.
But life, my dear, is not sonorous;
It is much largely murderous.
Teachers care for all future fuss.
All teachers care for dangerous
Children who lead life glamorous.
Teachers are always right rigorous,
Who will guide against vaporous,
And are strong and tall like coniferous.
They like great Shivaji, truly valorous.
Teachers care for all future fuss.
Follow them Oh! ye malodorous;
And they will fill you with flowers.
Teachers care for all future fuss.

modern English

I want to promise to love you, my lover,
I’ll never hurt you for the rest of my days
At this moment I will be your friend forever
I could tell you my love in many ways

But none of them are good enough for you
I will spend my days with the one I love
Because we are the perfect two
I will always be your elegant white dove.

I hope that we can grow old together
Our families may be enemies
But we could be like garlic and butter
When I am weak you are my remedy

With every beat of my heart,
I will love you till death due us part

Shakespearean

I wanteth to gage to loveth thee, mine own lov'r,
I’ll nev'r did hurt thee f'r the rest of mine own days
At this moment I shall beest thy cousin f'rev'r
I couldst bid thee mine own loveth in many ways

But none of those folk art valorous enow f'r thee
I shall spendeth mine own days with the one i loveth
Because we art the p'rfect two
I shall at each moment beest thy elegant white dove.

I desire yond we can groweth fusty togeth'r
Our families may beest enemies
But we couldst beest liketh garlic and buttocks'r
At which hour I am weak thou art mine own remedy

With ev'ry did beat of mine own heart,
I shall loveth thee till death due us parteth

No worst hast thou done,  
yet no worse than I...

Forsaken for mine sin, for which thither art many...

Cast off from thy valorous grace, for I am owed nothing but mine penance unto thee...

Thine smileth and favour I am yet to winneth again...

For thy divine light to breath life into thy soul...

For all that I has't done and the sins I am yet to commit...

Mercy beest upon me...

For I still carryeth the glimmer of thy fire in mine heart.

Is it not a wonder
how your emotions
stitch these words together
Like a well knitted sweater

Is it not inspiring
how your sadness
strengthens the ones reading
But you're still bleeding

Poets should fall
in love with
poets
Leave the rest to
appreciate their
poems

Is it not beautiful
the way your mind
crafts and creates imagery
Marrying imagination and reality

Is it not intelligent
the way your words
coalesce together
Your journals, chests of treasure

Poets should fall
in love with
poets
Leave the rest to
appreciate their
poems

Is it not charming
that you aim to
be different than the indifferent
societies past and present

Is it not valorous
that you strive to
rebel with just a pen
Deep within the lion's den

Your emotions deep, your heart is true
They read your writing but fail to read you

I reaffirm,
Poets should fall
in love with
poets
And
Leave the rest to
appreciate their
poems

Does the northern star shines on west?
Does the range of walks and run are quest?
Every change of the wind scattered on mountain top
If everything will disappear with just a snap.

Their are some vivid language that makes everything seems so real
Yet, valorous deeds are more than a deal
No courage to have some Olialleberry
Only those who have faith can seek the truth and carry

Peregrinating around Hades' teritory
Maybe like giving up your own story
Can the sun rays pass through its wall
Or will it be bound by a metal core

My thought of the east are inferior depths of the dawn crate
As the bridge from south is falling will it sore every mate?
Old jalopy can drive you home
Or just have the thickest tome.

Striped to the nines
these cats carry pig stickers
animal kingdom death comes quicker
shoeshine, no sunshine, grease ain’t slicker
chalked out in lines
lead bellies line mines
outlaws make laws, break jaws
drop jaws, buy cars, bank rob
live like all-stars, a full-time job
all-grime, an all-crime job
a romantic era of terror
splashy ink does injustice
while they sidle Fords with Thompsons
every John a Dillinger, every Romeo a Clyde
everybody comes to terms with hunger and iron
everybody comes to town either starry or steely eyed
they leave or stay forever, never rich enough to justify why these are the streets they had to die on
it ain’t pretty
black eyed beauties and black tied beaus
lies as easy as blood when the liquor flows
guns and love and money, everybody knows
it’s all business, question contracts and the details get gritty
you can get in clean
but you have to get your hands ***** in this city.


A blues musician blew through the nightclubs with his sound
the rhythm of struggle, poetry and soul come alive
one with his voice, his guitar, singing of how he strived
to make it to the bright lights, he thought it was a miracle he survived
songs of Southland and heartache, the sounds of a segregated culture thriving above ground
what scratch he could collect
he would make if he had to play until he broke his guitar’s neck
wise enough to only accept cash up front, no checks
he was not ashamed of a spotlight
a bluesman can’t be afraid
he tore down the house six nights
and on Sunday he prayed
when he heard his music on the radio, riffs and lyrics ripped and splayed
the mournful soul, howling moon, woeful pontifications and rhythms all butchered onto a premier
a darker, sadder set of eyes than he had ever seen fell back on him from his own rearview mirror
outside of a studio, champagne bottles broken on his back for white rock and roll
at some hour when the sun was too far to imagine rising
he found himself peering over the edge of a darkness in his soul
and the liberating relief was frightening, he wanted to force it to feel surprising
a brown neck and a half ago he traded his first guitar, offered to sign it, too
pawnbroker bought it off him for a bill or two, said “Why, who are you?”
He swapped for a pistol under-the-counter and the bullets
bought a couple bottles of liquid encouragement to help him think it through
he drove out to the record label where the thief was lauded on the air
sitting is his car with his last guitar, barrel scratching his head, parting his hair
he was half-awake, about to leave when he saw four people walking out of there
a quick release, trigger, clutch and gas, the conspirators who stole his soul collapsed,
he drove into town to sell it back one piece at a time just as fast.


Putty in palms
men melt in her gaze
Medusa couldn’t ****** a man as easily
Penny flies with fancy and never stays
she was the high school sweetheart, girl next door,
to the star quarterback, to the class president, who fought viciously over her
who were sidetracked brawling while she was romanced by promises of city life
which swept her off the suburban sidewalk, and deposited her in a diner
where a man would come to blows over her, promising to make her his wife
she led men to collide with one another, they called her the Lucky Penny
she loved the attention, flirtatious eye-batting and men being reduced to fools
it was nothing shy of flattery, her chest felt empty without superficial value
and what is a better showing of what you’re worth than what someone else is willing to do to someone else to keep you?
She never really cared beyond the surface for any of them at all,
until, of course, she was ensnared herself by becoming a moll
Penny would only go steady with someone as beautiful as she was,
this invited trouble to her diner, because
a pretty-boy gangster oversaw collections in the area, just as handsome, just as clean
every bit as petty as Penny, twice as angry, twice as spiteful, and twice as mean
he carried a switchblade knife, a jackboot blade, he would love an excuse to cut ribbons out of skin
he had the sharps in spades, sharp wits, looks, angles, and cuts, when they met Penny was already done in
pretty boy promised her the moon, gave her a pad, he made sure she stayed living in the lap of luxury as long as it was his lap, and she’d never step out of line after the first time he got mad
she was number three in a marriage, in over her head and scared for her life
Penny, the apple of every man’s eye, a prisoner, mistress, and second to a mafia wife.

Ruthless killers aren’t these snarling giants
they’re scrawny, little, barbed wire, white men
capable of extreme and unconscionable acts of violence
you never see them until it’s too late for status quo, still water silence
deeper though, you never know, a gun is just bamboo, a ball and black powder, light it
your next-door neighbor could be the next news-maker, a headline teenager
used to be you’d never know somebody got shot if they popped 911 on your personal pager
the world isn’t spinning any faster, but these gray matters will age ya,
I say, going postal isn’t even a clever turn of phrase yeah?

Sunup in the city, Chicago typewriters were dogearing a page in history
like firecrackers going off just before dawn, you could see them from a sky penthouse
the locations of every execution, it wasn’t a mystery
a plan went off without a hitch, an overtaking in the criminal industry
you can say it, business is booming
body-bags went out by the half dozen to a dozen spots, by noon sirens were still zooming
out of precincts, hearses and coroners, ambulances and firetrucks, police too
it wasn’t a warzone, it was a crime scene, every block everywhere, put tape around the whole county
you could bring every citizen in as a witness, they’d probably all have a statement, it was anarchy,
an entire organization was weeded out and killed, with efficient brutality, and get this, no payment offered up for a revenge bounty
nobody retaliated, they were emasculated, eviscerated, devastated and decapitated, nobody knew who held the keys to the city, but we knew to revere the new monarchy
and for months there was humidity so thick it made me sweat through my collar, an air of anxiety
terror is what you don’t know, can’t understand, aren’t able to feel, hear, or even see…


So, I’ll put a bomb in the mail, watch his face turn pale, stand outside the window
make his wife a widow, I’m not settling for the ironic justice he doled out
my life wasn’t nothing, but now it’s always something, ever since I sold my route
a job in this town is a weapon in the wrong hands, if you work for good folks, you’ll be met with injust demands
I delivered payroll for a law firm, took an armored van and stuck to plans
making sure paralegals and secretaries and partners see their paychecks, private sector, shotgun overhead on the rack, nine-millimeter on my side, and rifle in the back
same three to a car, I always drive, if you’re gonna hit us in broad daylight, it’s gotta be on Monday when we’re fully loaded, as we cross this bridge and you better promise we all stay alive
I get my cut, a quarter million, a Judas’ fee to guarantee the financial security of my family and we’ll be packing live rounds if you think of double crossing me, for our own safety
that day hits, we come across the bridge to a traffic stop
I was sweating bullets, my partner rolled down the window to talk to the cop
an accident ahead, then a sudden, deafening pop
now I feel the adrenaline flood, my face is covered with my friend’s blood
I’m kicking at the door, a ricochet bites my ear, I think my head is gone
but even if I’m dead I’m still running for dear life, I’m going on
I hear screaming, automatic gunfire, he’s shooting, taking them out with him,
he’s dying, I’m ripping my uniform off and ducking out, half-blind, the lights get dim
it’s days later, I’m contemplating the darkest things I’ve ever thought, outside a ***** cop’s residence
I’ve barely eaten, I’ve barely thought of anything except tracking this heist crew down, and now I’m showing hesitance
I’ve followed them since that day, I know this is it, they’re all inside, four bad men got rich and two good men died
one coward allowed it to happen, I’m gripping my sidearm, they won’t strip me of my pride, I don’t need any evidence
He kicks the door in, gun drawn on four men, their families just outside, seconds tick away, sweat drips, feet sway, chairs slide and casings clatter, he serves up an equalizer on a platter, that day it’s not a blue matter, it’s a blood splatter, eight dead, four thieves and three collateral, with a lone gunman at the heart of it all.

Fisticuffs always calls up a type of fighter, former priors
agents looking at delinquency like juvenile homes are boxing regency
adopt a son, own a slave, train him to fight for his home and do it all legally
coattail riding, meal ticket punching, a prizefighter raised from adolescence
to do one thing as soon as he enters a ring, turn lights out, win a money bout, leave opponent with no recollections
a colored boxer, killing competition in a record winning Olympic position
never shies away from trouble he tucks his chin and takes it double
always looking on the uppercuts, combinations break safes, open faces and break up guts
a contender for a spot, he’s dreamt of this, he’d give everything he has now away for this shot
it’s a chance at a chance, the only one he’s got
he loves his foster father and his foster mother and it feels like they’ve worked to give him a lot
sitting front row in reserved seats, while ten rounds pass,
his brain rattles in his skull, while they eat popcorn and sit on their ***
hands trembling in his gloves, slumped in the corner, cut the swelling eyes to let him see
he is dying ninety seconds at a time, how long can he last?
His masters don’t stand unless he falls, their love is slavery
these gloves that keep his hands in fists are new cuffs, they contain him, set him free!
He spits blood on the mouthguard, leaves his teeth on the mat, presses off on his knuckles and clears the ten count with the referee
eyes like a monster, he finally snapped, and wore the leather out
he proved his love was stronger than anyone and anything,
by beating his opponent into a fatal coma, in twelve rounds, blood pooled at silent spectator’s feet, as he continued to swing
it was an undercard they never forgot when he went back to prison and left it all in the ring.

Terror is what you don’t know, can’t understand, aren’t able to feel, hear, or even see
and for months I dreamt of what I saw that day with no lucidity
I was locked down in the tragic relivings of a marred, scarred up, firebomb charred memory
they look for the truth in their ink, why does that burden fall on me?
All I am is all I could ever be!
Dogged, **** tired, I put a cigarette out on my arm to see if I’m awake sometimes
sometimes I do it to see if I’m alive, after bearing witness to fresh hell, in some crimes
investigative journalism, my life’s work, it’s all dirt
digging for one breathtaking coffin, until my lungs hurt
it’s misery in a city of misgivings on loop for eternity
they know no one can stomach the bottom; even the bottom falls out
and the bowels and the guts spit up their disgust, the bile discussed their vile supremacy in doubt
but the duty still lands in my lap and I carry it readily if wearily
a good deed is unheard of, which is why the death of all factions
all fractions of crime, all at one time, all one action done on a dime, is killing me
I know there’s something more behind it all, that kind of slaughter would take an army
where does it begin, who’s covering up, lying and playing pretend, where does one thread stop when another one ends?
Am I standing in a web or a noose?
Am I cutting through a conspiracy or am I cutting myself loose?
I feel as if I’m suspended by my own suspicion!
I am lost and I’ve been more directly involved, more focused on a mission!
There are laughs in the walls of motels where I stay,
when I take my pills and check out for the night they giggle “Have a nice day!”
I’m sure of nothing, why do I know there must be foul play!
The streetsweepers must have an agenda, they must profit in some way
but they don’t come out of the woodwork to claim any coercion or pay
any heroics or fame, if any figurehead stood behind them, that person stands at bay
while I wait with bated breath, knowing one thing of murderers who achieve a getaway
that they either are assured of success enough to retire, or to attempt a grander feat of death…

Once an aging prima donna fell upon a spotlight
with all the natural talent of the charismatic, valorous and gallant, a comet in the starlight
she could sing and act and dance and grant wishes with magic if directed so
so, she was a child when she graced stages with her presence every night
crushing the pressure of performances that sink politicians by the sheer size
she could captivate and entertain, dazzle, razzle, sizzle, and shock a crowd
ahead of her time and curb and curtain, her cast and calling, producers she seemed to hypnotize
evoking the ire of every other actress, singer, dancer and magic woman living loud
she burst with color onto silver screens and took the world that was hers by any means, the masses she could mesmerize
even in black in white they fell in love with the gaze of her baby blue eyes
and the only thing to slow or stop this comet’s meteoric rise
was time, she was too old for the parts they wanted every woman for,
tapdancing and vaudeville, lounge singing and musicals, from the ivory tower to the first floor,
an aging prima donna, who would never want to play a bit role or a fill a hole well, she was a goner
she wanted to trailblaze, turn these old ways into new days
and she only needed new opportunities, a chance to shine in her advanced age
for the elderly actress desired to perfect an archetype in drama, beginning with one screenplay page
she wrote herself a major part, around the central cast, so the young talent could shine in the brighter lights, while she would create a legacy to outlast
and they look for her today in her films and wonder what changed to make it so,
that the energetic and happy woman lost all her glow, to go and wither into shadows where she would play the crone and cantankerous, conniving, lonely gypsy or old widow.

In a new era, a new form, the prizefighter came back, weathered the case
five to ten
years off the prime of his career
militant Islamic conversion in the joint, scowl permanently on his face
disowned his adopted home, disemboweled his circle to scorch earth for some personal space
and worked harder to prove he deserved to earn the boxing commission’s good grace
got his boots back on, never out of shape, kept them laced
older and slower, but stronger than ever, a lifestyle change is a new pace
he met a new agent, a man with his true interests at heart, cross it and hope
he’s representing the same faith, referral by a cellmate, representing the same race
he’s educated and well-dressed, his lawyers got lawyers who all send money upriver
so why would he ever sell a fighter downstream? He’s all about one color, one power
the power is cash and the color is green! He’s selling prizefighting like a butcher sells liver
looking at his prime killer like he’s working by the hour, like the man has never been here
he’s lost speed, gained mass, sore in the bones from time’s past and passed in the joint, he’s one night away from an official anoint-
meant, appointment with the king, a racial salesman who takes advantage of the divide to provide a talking point with his melanin
when he doesn’t care, he doesn’t even see people before him as more than cattle or less than human
and with every victory he’s seeing clear, the field he’s standing in is tall grass
he’s struggling to see the path he walked in on, but he’s got to keep burning through the gas
promotion, fight, rounds of blood and sweat, hand held high, interview gab, it’s not over yet
locker room politics, agents and deals, brands and lawyers and contracts, contacts, pagers and producers, politicians and televisions and business meals
he’s got a clear role on only one side of things, that’s why he lets the bird out of the cage because money talks and sometimes ******* sings
but when it comes down to trimming the fat, he earns his living in training and between the ropes in how he lives and how he wins when he swings
and he goes out with a record of sixty fights with eight losses and no contest, one of the most controversial champs to duke it out in those rings.

That they either are assured of success enough to retire, or to attempt a grander feat of death
I swear to ******* God I’m being followed ever since I left the last spot, it’s like the city knows I’ve been holding my breath
it started choking me, hands wrapped around my neck, I’m cut off from my office I can’t even cash a field check, I left my kids in the separation, this story is it, I don’t have nothing left
I’m chasing lights where there’s only flickering projectors, looking for the big picture at the point of origin
it’s never going to reveal itself to me, I hear the voices of professors trampling my voice again
the streets don’t just open up and take every killer, thief and ****** back, every assault charge and corrupt landlord, cop, lawyer and councilman
all the big fish swam away after the attack, like rats on a sinking barge, it’s their word full stop, against the everyman
but if the system breaks down at the point of their cogs, the people who do their ***** work, and witnesses all suddenly outnumber them with righteous indignation, armed and willing to catch a case then…
Who’s going to be left to clean up after that?
Three days, five days, eight, fully awake with the full realization, a health hazard with walls where I sat
the story of the century in my lap, I looked like warm crap, like something the buildings and streets formed teeth to chew up in their maw and back out they spat
figures not even the bones of this old gal would like the flavor of an emissary to the truth
I rattled my fist to the ceiling on the ninth day, kicked a rat of my mattress, pulled the story off my typewriter, and muttered “Let’s see how they like that!”
for the first time I saw daylight, I saw a kid standing outside waiting to rob me, hand in his pocket, he cocked a hammer and told me to drop it,
I stood frozen, sure everything was true if they were waiting to stop it going through the presses, I was ready to die when an old man came by, chased him off with a cane and yelled “Stop it!”
this boy dropped two rocks he clicked together to make a gun noise in his coat and ran, I was stunned and I just studied the face and thanked God for the old man
I interviewed him, a source for my civilian militia, and next week I was in a real bed in my apartment when they ran the issue.

Many months ago, something crazy happened, our family had a tight net over the whole city then it snapped and
lieutenants, enforcers, soldiers all turned on each other on the orders of opposing captains
we turned to our cops, sergeants and detectives, turns out their own were capped before then
cops were ******* with corruption and a lone gunman who hit their families and crossfire killed three kids, four men, rich thieves died poor men,
every single lawyer and city politician at that time was locked up with all eyes on the boxing commission and a homicide spree tied to a ******’ blues musician
it was like all the focus left and they let clowns just step in, meanwhile we were undermined by our own kind, greedy backstabbers and
they cost us the whole operation, cannibal rats, growing fat off our own hind end
in the confusion every two-bit hood and crook, every able-bodied gun and ******, every veteran and rookie, all the way from the bottom to the Consigliere got took,
I found the underboss hanging on to evidence that shut the Don out of the state from a firebombed butcher’s shop in the back by a meat hook, bullet riddled legs limp and falling off, a dozen dead thugs by a card game in the back, plates with cold steak and scrambled eggs
papers ran facts on the carnage, questioned the anarchy, only one washout journalist tried to explain
he must have racked his brain, put himself through so much pain,
in a blind spot there was just another crime, on a scale that looked insane
he said good people were out there, outnumbering the bad
that no matter the hard times, those breed helping hands from survivors who know what they’re like, because they see you having the same day they’ve had
his words were in print, but I felt them reaching out and the fingertips fell short of the grasp
he was a man drowning in senseless slaughter, coming up for air and that was what he saw in a gasp
I know they need hope, but they don’t know it like I do, it’s the environment that breeds the opportunity, otherwise we would never get away with what we do
people don’t make the city clean
you know what I mean
there’s a system, they operate it, a monolithic, twisted, broken glass jaw of a weaker species that spits spiteful and sick ****, it’s full of hatred, eyes red, bureaucrats that ******* cats to see them land on their backs, it only speaks the language of violent acts so it only understands you if you attack, everything in the string-pullers is the least of actual humanity, it’s forsaken because they are the most of what a person lacks, and we answer to their highest calling it’s brass tacks, it’s a blood tax, it’s a wish come true light the candle at both ends and wait until there’s no more wax,
the city isn’t *****, it was built by us, it wasn’t perfect when we got here, but we **** sure broke her trust, you either live the life you want or you die how you must.

Friend of fingers, o keyboard,
Valorous and mild I call thee;
How soft replies, what a mode
Of being handy thou ever apply

May we presume… our duties
- stop reading at any point
- no blame- no claim
- this got some past Pearl Harbor
- laughing,
- at prodigal riches Jus Bellum ******

Quest of the day,
by chance taken,

you feel our shared wish
to know why

the old orders form doctrines dividing

soul and spirit,
ambiguous,
at worst same
which is worse or better
memorializable realizations,
ambivalent, at best… valorous guts

faithful core, sound mind

love enemies, death,
before dishonor.

-girdle of truth, guts.

Gaseous we form, steep, indeed.
Pressure adjust
with a yawn.
Deep Silicate ooze
from some directions.

Every player makes a telling.
Best life on Earth as prayed.

The common story, the court
of public opinion, live
from a mindform retired,
asking -already  asked
by whose authority
may we ask,
must we retell it?
-- I love to tell this story,
of a liar who loved wisdoms
dust motes dancing
in sunbeams

Thou shalt not bear false witness
against thy neighbour.

Close as we found to:
thou shalt not lie…  bear witness

-bear, weigh down on…
take a bead, flat out
lie about a neighbor
on the whole true planet,
that is a wonder
to have being in.

No other's witness, diminutive
visions stretched
to contain paid
attention,

miracle
signum, prodigium, and virtus

see wonderfilled
by leaving
the legend written
on heart discs,
in the cloud…

little white pebbles
to follow, meandering, mean
mental deep significtioncy team
-Hansel's second walk
into these woods, used pebbles
because breadcrumbs get eaten.

Believe me.
We know.
Grimm Ache
to b'com'abit
of worth within
the story re-deveil-ed
uses religious reasoning,

smile, slightly,
at thinking rational
share, taken breath
of life, equal share.

Without money, without price

take and eat, discern the seed,
sow it grow it, eat it your self.

This next part gets steep;
This was not bad so far, same muse
used, but it runs on air, fair excuse.

On Earth, as it is
we live and breathe
and have our being.

Mortal, non eternal being,
brief
seed self soul spirit will
to may perhaps
being sown, so far
so good, living on

past the bone tied to bone,
dry bones, can these bones live,

so will
to prosper manifests
will so

we may imagine we

can, indeed, we can

find just cause
for making peace,
where no peace has yet been,
becoming final mortal form
artful being naturally chaotic
at the bleeding edge, close up.

Zoom out, use your movie eyes, see
from any POV, we are living witnesses,
stirring
up the ashes
of our oughtabins.

experienced
ex + peritus "experienced, tested,"
from PIE *per-yo-, ed form
of root *per- "to try, risk."

Per, 3 of 5, haps we used.
Past tune, tense time tied
experience, re-allied in Truth,

fairly daring my fully armoured soul
to face my informed shapeless spirit.

Laugh, inside, feel the weight, breathe,
and think life all one initialized algorithm,

an I'll go rhythm,
per 1, forward,  
per 2, lead on,
per 3, risk trying
per 4, strikes impression,
per 5, deserves familiarity
"to traffic in, to sell,"
via the per notion
of "to hand over" or "distribute."

steep or deep, as above, so below, yada.
'gotta license per usual ritual yada per
It is the hypothetical source of/
evidence
for its existence is provided by:
Sanskrit aprata
"without recompense,
     gratuitously;" -- no charge, freebie, giveaway

Greek
porne "*******,"
    originally "bought, purchased,"
        per-nanai "to sell;"
             as per usual ritual business trafficked in
          Latin
      pretium
"reward, prize, value, worth;"
         Lithuanian
perku
        "I buy."
<per-#etymonlinev52726>

It forms all or part of:
    appraise;
  appreciate;
depreciate;
interpret;
praise;
  precious;
   price;
     *******.


Moving, characters,
minds we give POV

A personal best, today… I'd say,
if I were another
in my mind.

Reproving experiences.
Legends realized  
At temptation
to test person
hood worth
to the whole weform
informing our swirl
in mind,
in spirit, and in truth,

discernible poetically,
as slight smile feelings thought.
- hum of life around me

The glory of any wine is joy,
our strength is the joy
of eloheem, the host
of heaven as is e
ai, indeed the very spirit
in the idea
first peaceable
indeed mere thought
bought, using patience, pure,
without hesitance,
principle thing
to get the win weform
this wisdom, which is packaged
with understanding,
post experience
we all have access,
in the whole truth package we swore
to tell…
we  define our terms assisted, 't's
bein' how we come
to have these screens,
seen free as far as
we can see,
from many points
of view, seeming fractured
ancient attention spans
creased old folds, sacred
scripture… salted old roles,
form old faded preverbs preserved,
parchments, lacunae, and palimpsests

Spirits from letters let be preserved,
a host of those abide with me,
accounting for sweet hours
in prayer, for sweet hours
in after words, smiling,

We once stood toe to toe
with iniquity himself, and took the bet,
went all in, thinking, I already know.
My side won the ball game,
it is my own head
on the line.

Plural I, laugh inside,
  a we aware peace cheats,
     from war's POV, asks us:
-wombed or un, any man kind,
attempting preverbial believing.

As man hold true at core… die for
true, no lie, tried, and died, deep

Peace, past understanding, hold on,
this goes all night, sometimes.

Who is a wise man and endued
with knowledge among you
let him shew out
of a good conversation his works
with meekness
of wisdom.
---
But if ye have bitter envying and strife
in your hearts, glory not, and lie not
against the truth.

Such wisdom descended not
from above, but [is dark chthonic]
earthly, sensual, devilish.
---- what if devilish meant mm-use-d?

For where envying and strife is ,
there is confusion
as when peace happens
in a mind
on guard
against two things, confusion
and every evil work.

{Feel free to assume all ritual formulae}
Good luck.
No war chants, no bad spirits here.

distant shout
  TOWBRA'

eeha abba embodiable I know
  beauty and truth, ra' Eber memory
  know how

to hold a people
in mind, a we form,
ceremonial memorial muse arousal,
      Those we knew,
who steered us once,
   we find them
in our peaceful rest, long
   moody blues calm, lingering  
    to laugh inside, we knew
the same truth's we made the same peace

when eating fresh fish, beware bones

But Wisdom that is
from above is first pure,
then peaceable,
gentle,
easy
to be intreated, full
of mercy and good fruits,
without partiality, and
without hypocrisy.

Hypocrisy is the art
of affecting qualities
for the purpose
of pretending
to an undeserved virtue.
Because individuals and institutions and societies most often
live down
to the suspicions
about them,
hypocrisy
and its accompanying equivocations
underpin the conduct
of life …on Earth, in orbit
{ed said carry on bear witness}
Imagine how frightful truth
unvarnished
would be.
[Benjamin F. Martin, "France in 1938," 2005]

And the fruit
of right-use-ness is sown
in peace of them that make peace.
James 3:13-18

Used, right, still good. Usable still.

Their tombstones stand valorous guard
to an increasingly ungrateful
nation

Night has fallen
The morn is due
Here I am a goodly maiden
Cumbered with the want for Adam

I yearned for you with a strange feel
While you were yet afar
This concupiscence like the dawn man
Has eaten away my sensory faculty

Like a fierce soldier on the bridge of war
I jumped into an awakening
Never will I be a slave
To the famous black archfiend

He will fill me with a want
To be a perpetual transgressor
To love the very crime I dread
And be filled with dreaded guilt

I will arise and be feisty
Like the valorous commander proper
Fully armored with the righteous breastplate
And the ageless sword of the spirit

Boundlessly broken
Shivering surrender
Cowering capitulation
Demeaning defeat

Never kneel
Steady stubbornness
Relentless resistance
Valorous victory

Break the mould
Watch it unfold
Take a hold,
lay back,
and be bold,
intrepid
valorous,
audacious to
The mould never,
fitted you

© 2021 Carol Natasha Diviney

Let me try to make sense of the effectual fervency requirement.

Availing much, eh, what is avail, to me, valient effort expense, perhaps.
Available. Too much, eh.
A valorous effort, charging a kind of
weform mindform spirit shape we
attending with half a brain, to A.
Huxley, speaking from 1960 or so,
What a piece of work man is.

Very large numbers is subject
to average approximation
means, all means
in rational balance and spinning energy
allocations, as means
to attract idle words, non compete,

old karma dharma levels too deep
to imagine twice the same.

Fortune tellers or insurance companies,
confidence business
Framing referents,
insuring we get the point, as readers
Force fed referential self evidence
from a printed grapho
hos grapho grapho grafitti, evidence
from Kilroy, the idea/

EASTER. {Passover} Prelude
to Maydays, Kings are dead, long
live the king, the thing, the idea, eh, boss
of me,
in me, he, is risen.

He is risen, indeed, the enchantment,
seen as we assume a shape,
some spider's abandoned kite,
we ride as a lash mite may, animated,

we, as not me, nor thee, but we,
working wonder
for a living, offering confident upright reasons,
for the prelogos nous level conscience, knowns
at the liver level,
knowns
at rhenaladrenal level, gut conscience, upright, I, inside,
rationally balanced dancing levels,
we, as not us, but what we form,
whenever, we become a mind
of our own, a mobmind, Zeitgeist, any two or more,
wonders what ifed into 2025 access to information interesting

enough,
to leave room
for rest,
in proof, pure
peace, enough,
to ponder liquid metaphoric
reflective contemplative gearing is called for, mechanically,
-moments ABSing preventative slow
to bring seconds worth of concentration,
to the scale, fluxuation vibratory humming,
in balance, my rationed willpower used to make believe,
I am chosing words at random, in a familiar way, being

as one may literally be, in a book like environment, seeing
as one can imagine, being a grapho, a decree, be me, see

what a creature
on the order
of a reader familiar
with Huxley,
at Ape and Essence, experience a reader ties
to carp… old fish,

wisht once toomany times, solo hook, life sunk,
back
to the shack
by the see full
of good things
to eat,
beside a trickling stream seeping
from high
on the granite wall,    

Remember, hours
of silence,
with these inner humms, Acutron
steady, even when the big guns go….
how biguns do, Acutron
steady hummin', human interest, …
how I hapt'gno, Acutron

hmmm, steady, effectual fervent waiting
to know, you know
what time it was,
in big picture 20th century mindhats known
worn, bhering evidence
to the wearer's status and caste known,
witness the projected value associated, eh, what I say

as sociated we think, ah
as such, breathe, we think, while others read, ambiguous tense,
as so situated, we think, we have being as readers ready logically,

for whatever we find fits our plainest version of our version
of the overall results of Easter, or, more importantly, today,

Christmas, the message, McLuhan, most know something
of his presentation
of his perceptions from Canadian Academian POV verily,
verily postpone --- time hold, a thought,

thinking, first time, breathe, and think what thought feels like.

Let this mind be in you, listen to yourself retell the reason, the use for,
the faith ration each ready reader has availed one's own self's access to,

letters, pen slow, brush slow, rude reed grapho in the beach, washt away,

though your sins, as you define what has beguilted thee and thine idea, I am
and curcumin -pops in- an adlib AI word, beguilingly the one this idea is, I am.

At that point, in a real weform, we sigh, as is, we all sigh, but some think sigh.