Sunday, May 20, 2018

One day they won't take and excuse themself

This is not the science that saves me...
This life learning laughter and love that builds me
I fail at perfect, haven't been and what is science?
Best practice and knowledge, perhaps.
I am because I follow intuition, in bed and shit yesterday...
And that is heart that reacts and mind predicts, you know.

I know not why I'm dead,
too much booze or loneliness
I killed my television and microwave, so
That can't be done.

And the haters hate
Lovers gonna make, craft, create
While the rest of the world spends it's own destruction
Wherefore is the peace in buying one's stairway to heaven.

One such as I can't foretell
History is written as much as mitigated by the victor
I know not whom got rich selling bullets
For I fight for acceptance, companionship, and opportunity

And all the good, better, and rather-thans still open
While clowns invade my privacy and domicile
I haven't a secret in my easy going except who I am
Money harasses, and women judge...  I am not my own anymore

My life is what it is, the life of everyone trapped in poverty or class struggle
We speak of third-world countries and world banks
I am a nation without a rose, and will be
I die now alone.
But life is the present, the gift, secret, and key.
For we each live on in our own way.

Saturday, May 5, 2018

Lost Saturday

I played the Ungame with my parents.
It was hard reading the question because there was know card.
My Dad had a proxy torwards the end of the game.
Mom has passed away but she played the best she could.

It was fun!  i half-made up the questions I wanted to ask.
But they were printed on the paper, so they believed me.

I wish Dad didn't quit.  But at least I found out some things.

The hardest part was moving furniture to play the ungame.
We didn't use to have the easy chair where we sat.
We did sit on the ground.  It was easier than playing in the dark,
Where one is all the same height.

I wish only that I could concentrate longer.
My Parents Are Such People!
I had fun finding them!!!

Wednesday, April 25, 2018

The Northface on Exposure in Avalon's Wakening

A little bit of tea rests undrunk:
the bugs are waking with the spring
the birds, too, eating them
as the bugs are eating the plants
and the bees will find nectar.

what spring of my tomorrow, rises
i'm smart and funny, but alas
I am alone, single, annealed
or unwanted
a sexy killer with a blue dick
A blue face from praying to God
A blue hand and pants from painting lonely skies.

There is a tomorrow;
There was a yesterday, afterall.
my here and now is material
and existential problems with no solution
Where did all my red roses go

My daisies sit that I bought for myself
Daffodils finally bloom in the garden
The monster of mischief comes with scissors
I water them, but then they're thinned, gone, and given.
What flowers, the sky gone dark with my pining.
I rise, I sleep, I dream awake of tomorrow's tomorrow
A plan of craft and construction and conservation
While my Gods steal all that is money from coffers,
Rewarding me with what he has thieved from mine.

My love broken into rubble has turned blue again
Without acceptance or companionship
Leaving Opportunity to wilt while I wonder way.
There are abundant forests, and fruitful imagination
They graze-like by roadside while one slows for their progress.
Some feathered, some hairy-beasts of four legs,
And some shadowed so heavily by hunger, they eat pavement.

Oh! inspiring messengers of Nature's calling!
Why is coexisting with an Other so fraught with prudence and caution.
And why Must we isolate so as to Love and Share!
Love should not be so confidential, nor sharing so jealously guarded!

Sunday, April 22, 2018

Oh love, i love you, too

i know not where the shift went to,
Seems a dead thing that whispers here i am
i can not find me, i can not find, i am incomplete

i want you to tell me you want me
i tell you want i want you
there is no echo in my life
i love you, but where are you

and when the stars sing and dance
how come that is too much
and when our souls match
why is there nothing left

i know not where my love went
But i love you, and i want and need you!

Tuesday, April 10, 2018

The Mud From the Last of Winter

The coffee pots whistles a little
The fishtank an eternal spring trickling
Traffic comes and goes by ceaselessly
And on wet days sound like spaceships
Whizzing through the air.

My flowers are wilting today
The daffodils still yellow, but bent
The daisy's a little better and wilting, too
They rest in center of dining room
A sweet scent in a world of latent memories

My Mom used to sit there, and Dad would too
Now the silence fills the room with their remembered smiles
And all the silent noises are absent, that used to drive me crazy
Now just the house creaking, and furnace heating
While the traffic continues to pass through our town

I do not remember summer, or last spring
My mind is full of sleep and quiet, made light by birdsong
I do not weep constantly over what I've lost
But my mind makes lists of stuff I do and don't want
Finding the labor is daunting when I write down all my dreams.
There isn't many to help, I'm isolated having found heaven
Here aren't many to talk with, I'm lonely having found myself

And so I travel a bit, smoke, and talk with friends
They've always been few, but the right kind
And I write messages to you, encrypted, and sent on spaceship through
Merely in hopes, my time is not wasted...
But in having found myself, also knowing myself
And what extends surrounding this small part of Earth I share
With worlds that extend into the Universe's further reaches.

Monday, April 9, 2018

Space is the Water We Swim

The last day of winter,
Little Spring lifting,
What is this thing called bOunCE?
Bunnie got banged!

Month of my soul's gray,
Sky's of murk and steel,
The skies eternally cry!
My house weeps in lament.

Moons of hidden wanderers,
Stars of blanketed nights,
This winter is pretty much over!
Only the birds and frogs know it.

When too do flowers know
When do buds grow closer to green
What street is washed away
What nature swells to press earths belly

It is the rain that baptizes our soul
And love but right now pregnant worlds of liquid sunshine, and vitamin D...

Sunday, April 8, 2018

Time is the Fire We Each Burn in!

I lie in imagery
Your living room
Box-like furniture in a boxlike room
In a box-like house on a box-like world


We shelve these ideas, because... burns...
We burn with the fire of Life
In all our sands of time
we did not start the fire

And so to soar in a world that comes round
To fly free and feel worlds beneath feet
!This could not be uS! with wind in feather
But there's the valley, there's the highway
There's the trees and the street and streetlight gleaming
We lift our wing to the future everyday
Everyway we make it happen
Because we are free

And the oxygen feeds our flame
Slowly feeding us what we want
To consume our soul, until done
We want every ounce, every pound
To Burn! To Burn! Live! Live!

While we may breath, and bread, and breed, and bean
Life's narrow hallowed living

I feel humbled we are so straightforward
Our words like forklift, or picture, or flashlight
And my poems sooo abstract
I think if I imagined more than conversation
I'd be here with you, saying be kind, sweetie.
Above all else, be kind, love.
And then go back to painting.