Thursday, September 29, 2016

Old Mother Hubbard Lived in a Shoe

Is it narcissistic to think and understand
About life, about you, about what you do
I looked down and saw myself in a shoe
Being used by other people to stay warm and comfortable
Caring very little for me, perhaps, as they walked on me
A slave to their enablement, complicit in their desire
And totally diseased because of all it...

But that's the conceit, probably the truth more lies
I am more using myself... for this
As often I am neglected by others and left in the box
Society has labeled me with,
                  and verily ignored routinely
For I am my own best company these days.

Others would probably prefer a maid or a butler
Someone to cook for them and later get in bed
Someone whom knew interesting facts about the French
And impeccably dressed themselves, perhaps in black.
And lace, and lace, and laces holding their breasts together
Up the front and back, and knee high boots wrapping...

I'm told I'm simple and slow, that's the narrative told
Fact is I usually just don't care, or care to interfere
OR perhaps actually enjoy the peculiarity a little more than most
And so haven't the skills or impetus to manipulate other people...
Because that would mean, manipulating their emotions, the way to psychopathy

Ever read, "How to Win Friends and Influence People," my dear?
Dale Carnegie wrote that and was given to me twice,
Along with Dick Clarks guide to grooming.  Yaa, pathology! NOO
They have to use words like ADD, OCD, SCHx, Depressed for those under the rug.
Those, us... that see life as somewhat broken and are disillusioned
Perhaps By all the self-serving crap surrounding us day-in-and-out.
Or Maybe we just have purple bones that won't go like yours colored pink or blue.
Or maybe mine are green and gold, or chromed admantium, you get the know.

No, I'm not really simple or slow.  But I may like simple and I like it slow
I like spreading on a hammock with a cat on my lap
I like drifting in a boat with rod and reel.
I like reading at my own speed.
I like painting things no one needs.
I'm thankful for this blog that I don't have to feed.
I like spending my time on unforced people, places, and things
For often the whole wide world is bigger than me, bigger than my vote
And bigger than the scheeming of multiple people or even jokes
That cover up tears real people are shedding.

Monday, September 26, 2016

In the Lovelands Star Cluster

There is a moving
that stirs faint no very soft
A dream, a hope designed
And designated then defined and drawn
Drawing from wellspring, the dream is live-birthed
To scream and wail in discontent
But suckled back into safety of dream
After norocord is severed from the birthing.
And held, and cleaned, and loved, and held some more...

An ineffably small model of me, perhaps
Or one monster come to swallow all.
For from the drawing comes double-breasted delight
In coloring in the details for which to swoon
Everytime suckled upon that nipple harderned at tender grasp
And twisted in folding need to at long last rest one's task
For food folks and fun, perhaps or... gold gods and guns...
While we live, learn, love, and laugh on Plan A T_erra Firma in the Lovelands Zoo.

Saturday, September 17, 2016

The End

The seven signs were unmiraculous
Oil platforms flooded the ocean
A hurricane in NYC flooded the subway
Viruses ran through our blood from mosquitoes
A sinkhole in Florida polluted an aquifer
Fracking reactivated Oklahoma's fault lines
Lead pipes were used for drinking water
Oh, And the polar ice caps melted in 10 years

We survived that!!

What nearly killed us though was
The World War Three-  Disease
People either got too much or not enough vaccinations
We ran out of effective antibiotics
Businesses jacked up the prices of medicine
And paranoia over GMO's kicked the can over
While waitresses went broke if they stayed home from colds.

So here was everybody running around with runny noses
Unable to pay for any prescription medicines for chronic conditions
And scared all the time whether or not they were slowly being poisoned
When the germs sickened...

Nobody knows what caused World War III, because it wasn't the bombs,
But we do know there was more than one and more than one type.
The women noticed first, 1 in 6 started getting lumps in their breast,
Then men's prostrates were the next to go.
There were rumors it was just the aluminum in everything causing cancer
But it spread, silently killing millions, some killing themselves by fasting.

We started sanitizing food with 254nm UV lights to break down pesticides and germs
We washed our hands a thousand times and washed the doorknobs, too.
At first it wasn't contagious, but that's when it was a cancer.
The day World War III started was the same day a news article appeared in my paper
"Is It The End Of Anti-Biotics?" the headline proclaimed!

It took the whole world in the end, 7.6 billion people, now 4 billion
4 billion hungry people ended up 2 billion starving
And of those that somehow managed not to get sick
Continued fighting, stealing, and cheating
Consequently, the diseases spread faster, and people starved even more.
And starving people get sick easily without proper nutrition.

Finally, without international trade happening, the diseases stopped spreading
The bees came back and started pollinating again,
The birds sang sad soliloquies amongst the decay and rubble,
But the Empires every nation built were toppled, and again humankind had to act nice
And once again respect others, And be kind,

Again the world went on, after that... at the speed of life.
With what small victory gardens remained and children that survived childbirth.

Monday, September 5, 2016

Upland Sciencing Regulations

It is illegal to loan or transfer your license to science
To another person or use a license issued to another person.
Or carry or have physical control over another persons license.
Or alter a license to science or permit for any reason.

Computers may not be used to locate science projects
For the purpose of: sciencing them on the same day,
After a person has been scoping them out, or
Providing information to another person sciencing on the same day.
The use of webcams or robots for the purpose of locating,
Purchasing, or sciencing in the Biglands, Uplands, or other areas
Under the Management of the USA during commision-established
Sciencing seasons is prohibited.

Electronic projects can only be scienced using
Multimeter, or soldering iron, or breadboard,
Or voltage regulator plug-in power-pack,
Or batteries, or logbook, or notepad.

Solder must be lead-free

All sciencers and book-worms are required by law
To stop as directed at all designated check stations on their
Way to and from sciencing and reading areas, even if they have
No projects or books to be checked.

The Possesion limit of projects is 3
And the magic number of Three
Is the Projects you shall have

It is illegal to waste parts after sciencing
Parts suitable for other projects include:
resistors, transistors, capacitors, IC, and LEDs
And must be kept and not left on workarea after sciencing.

All projects being transported should keep at least one IC
For identification.

It is illegal to hire a guru that isn't registered
With the Rural Upland.

Science Orange Requirement-  Burning another sciencer
while swinging the soldering iron on a project is the leading
Cause of sciencing-related accidents in the upland.  Although
Not required it is strongly recommended that all upland project sciencers
Wear at least an orange pocket protector or safety glasses to reduce the chance
Of an accident.

No tri-corders are allowed during sciencing except
For unrelated conversation and emotional support, and health.

To science in upland on a private technical college,
Sciencers must possess a valid upland sciencing license
Or a 9-month sciencing college license.

National parks are closed to sciencing
National Whitelands Reservations are closed except those areas
Designated open to public sciencing.  For sciencing opportunities
on National Whitelands Reservation, inquire at the local refugee office.

Railroads and railroad right-of-ways are private property
And may not be scienced upon without permission, nor should
They be used as access to areas one can science upon.

It is unlawful to use any pre-built or electrically simulated projects
or imitations of projects to assist in the sciencing, building, or construction
Of any invention except deconstruction, MUA 97-3-404.

Base Sciencing License:
                       Resident 10$ Non-resident 15$
Education                        8$                       10$
Upland Projects          7.50$                     110$
                          (ages 18-61)         (18 and over)
Resident
Flatlanders      A valid "Resident of the Flatlands
Permit             Use Permit" with a valid Flatland
                        Project Stamp will be honored by Upland
                        Wherever Sciencing of Upland is lawful
                        In USA.  Check with Flatlands at
                        406-555-0123 ext. 2600 for details
3-day Sciencing                                       57.50$
                                         3-day license for non-
                                         residents.  The license is
                                         not valid for transmitters
                                         at any time or for RF of any kind
                                         during the opening week of sciencing season
9-month                                                       20$
Technical                          Alternative to an Uplands
College                          Sciencing License for
License                         Non-residents whom wish
                                    To Science only on
                                     Technical Colleges(Private)


Wednesday, August 17, 2016

In Trying We Rise

And in doing we do
When through our lives
Rising...
    maybe to you

The August Summer Moon
Holds cooly in sky tonight
The silence pushed away mildly
Seranaded by sylvan smiles
Chirruping madly like moonlight
Under dark sky and softened stars

And where eternity meets...
Our souls reside

Sunday, August 14, 2016

Rising of the Eternal Triumphanium

The American Made manifestation of dreaming as one pleases
The car with it's advent of freedom
The television with advertising of being
The wifi of life cellular or handshook...

It's took, It's us, It's freedom, It's luck...
To poor and rich alike whom wants a look.
     But we're all beggars in the lands of America
Come here poor to make our means
      Come here to make durable our peace and ingenuity
In Ingenuity our Industry takes root

In Industry our lives take root
In Lives, Unions help family take root
While giving back, and giving back, and giving back to community
    There is no end to that... while mouths are fed
And feet clad, and smiles fixed

Men and Women greet our day
And when we play, we can say we helped
Because we bought Union Made...
In this here time and space, today.

We bought America.. made by, You!

Thursday, August 11, 2016

A Moment Of Your Life

I live in the now
An instant,
a small pinch or dash

I want a jigger of rememberance
A quart of memory
A pail of fond recalls

What I remember is like a picture
It's five by five under brief light
And so small, so very small on the walls
Of my magnificent house

Perhaps all I need to remember is to remember
Like when child in bed and before nighty-night,
Replay the day, and yesterday's fun and friends playing.

Perhaps all I need to memorize is memory
Like when adult I made a photo album,
Flipping through scenery, and short vignettes of people.

Perhaps all I need to fondly recall is to fondly recall
Like when stone I spoke about passed loved ones,
Kindling love, and quietly wishing it wasn't so bad.

And perhaps simply said as they say to help and move on,
The rest will take care of itself,
Easy and silent, and unpushed history of my sojourn on Earth.

Saturday, August 6, 2016

My Day Last January

The tour dragged on
I flipped off every overlay
And just kept the weather displayed

Wow, now I could see the depth to the Corinthian capitals
And look at Venus de Milo in white
This must have been what my grandpa saw
When he came to Rome

40 percent chance of rain, A-gain
I'll plot a course for quality cappuccinos
OOooo, happy cappuccino hour!! ten-percent off biscotti!
Only 10 minutes of walking

I broke off from the passel and passed by the 3rd
fourth, and fifth centuries and followed the focus four feet in front of me
Birds eye PiP had me towards the corner left
And I was ordering the skinny with cinnamon
Paying while walking in with debitcreditcents

Sipping at the counter, Lady Godiva walked in...
Hooking up bluetooth, she was playing her latest singles mix,
House trance dance, a couple waved their pinkies in the air
And smiled, and smiled, and smiled

I paid in cash to sit at a table
Though I was only taking one spot
The clerk didn't give dirty looks.

Hmm, there was a spot here
I activated my wifi-power pack
And a hologram jetted up out of the table
Powering the download from the RFID mod
Someone had stuck underneath with gum and ribbon
Princess Leia crouched and said, "You are our only Hope," in rainbow
Cool, street art, gotta love how it shimmered and shined.

The wifi... had a reach, so other tables had Darth Sith Lords
And that goof from the first movie gyrating on a balance ball
I sipped my coffee and turned off the overlays and wifi-power
Enjoying the Godiva soundtracks she was still broadcasting
The dude in line with the leather started dancing, n2sync.

Several people were staring at a blank wall
I guess they were watching Casablanca
As that's what the sign said below next to the price.
Frankly, I didn't give a damn,
This coffee was just too good with a little sugar.

An overt requested permission as a drone dropped from the ceiling
I wondered, what the hell, but then saw the port and the drop pickup
I accepted and it was all adspeak by AdWac saying I could save up to 50 percent
Blah blah blah.  If I had any money, I could give it to you! with coupon code 31259PU!!!
"Thanks to you, our loyal customer," and flew off with 5 cappuccinos.

I flipped and entered star mode, and everyone with a belt became a tightly packed constellation
Light became black and everything was solarized picture opposite without body awareness.
That dude dancing was a swarm of points of light
And the barista was a floating maze of lights behind the bar and floating crown
While the algorithm whined processors to remove visible space into a field of black.
I had to plug into the power pack, but it let me check my chat and mail.
3 blind dates from BlindMouse dating service
A note from Mom's crypt, I opened that, it was a memory from my baby book she took.
And there was a message from Dad saying he fed the cats and was hoping I had fun today.

The tears shorted my near field, so I blotted with the corner of the tablecloth
Which tore my retina so I left
I had to pull out my diary from my backpack and summon a browser
Which led me to the highest rated ophthalmologist downtown.
By the time I walked there, I had my appointment so I checked in
And the CSR led me to the salesperson who would look at me.
My one good eye browsed their blank walls looking for options
But that had been on the fritz for like ever, eeking by on my right eye.

"Are there any trade restrictions on your eyeballs?" I asked.
"Only for the military models," she replied.  "Are you looking for business?"
I replied, "I'm looking to replace these media models"
"Do you have a better graphics processor?"
She hemmed and hawwed and then pointed up high.
"I can't see," I said.  "Well, how much are looking to spend?" she asked.
"Anything new," I replied, and she brought out a box at the low table
That had the latest from Intergalactics and Sabotage.
"These are our best sellers for peeps like you."

I looked at their processors and virtual-ram then popped my eyes out with a pen.
Groping around I seated them in my head and they linked up.
"Do they have any swiss works to them," I asked, trying to zoom in the small room.
"Sometimes, I paint," I said.  She replied, "well the legal limit is 100 power,"
"But these go up to 75 with a camera, and with a license will go up to 200 with no modification."
I liked them, and they were blue, so I paid the creditdebitcents and walked out wearing them.
With my old eyeballs in a box.

I tried star-mode walking along and they didn't even get hot like my old pair.
And hippin' to the scotch ducked into a bar on the next block.
A locals bar, everyone was speaking Italian.
I turned on wifi-power and the room lit up with graffiti on all the tables and walls.
Some of it animated dragons, there was the Pope waving and smiling
And the bartender had a hovering sword where ever he walked that swung at empty air.

There was about five or six people, one bought me a beer for the wifi
And I told him gratzia which means I'm grateful.
There were a couple of sports feeds so I turned on the soccer game
And Bam I was three feet above and behind the ball soaring into a net!!!
On a sea of green going going going IN!
Venice football team just scored against Lucca, again.
I about fell off my barstool as the crowd cheered and announcers prattled.

I tipped the bartender, and switched to music, when again Lady Godiva
WALKED IN through the door!
Turns out she had sponsored people to dress up like her.
I turned on bluetooth and listened some more.
She was dropping it hot this time and servers running sidelined
With her old albums discounted heavily for creditdebitcents.
I paid the crexents and got three of her albums.
After they downloaded, she tipped her crown at me and smiled.
Then Lord Charon walked in and she got up and left and I lost her signal.

I listened to his bluetooth for awhile, but then switched back to the Godiva albums.
It was too moony and ambiantic with singing sphere stuff and mood tones.
But I picked up his new album for my sister cause it was cheap and she likes it.
The bartender pointed at him, then at the sign that said, "No Sollecitazione"
Whom threw up his hands and shook his head, sitting down, till my download finished.
He smoked, and I bought him a beer.  He handed me a flyer when the bartender turned away.

It was on Caturday, said my overlay when I scanned in the universal bar grid.
Women couples got in free, and domestic ganja 30 percent off.
But the beer was a dollar, so I planned on going and downloaded directions into my vision maps.
Having finished my drink, I got up and strolled towards columns to see them, over by the forum.

Peak Experience

I stood out my window
And birds with butterfly wings hovered into view!
Dancing, they sang a foot from their mouths...
Singing, they distilled the silence into motif...
Distilling, they agitated brains calling cat.

The rain has come again, with bombs and guns
Their guns, and their bombs;
              their bombs and their guns.
It can't pass by, but can't stay
Finding home in roses they wilt, as blue as they are turning.

And when worlds turn, who knows what busnessman will be the last
To lead the charge into forest with chainsaw
To hew torwards mountain with digger and drill
What magnificence the last businessman will be, I'm sure,
With ribbons in his hair and rainbows over his head
And a smart beard and plucked eyebrows with makeup
For the television.

Which broadcasts virtual reality in the peaks
With goat and pokemon go-going over crag and spine
Broadcast by satellite and 9G cell-phone towers splayed below.
But that's where Suzy saw the rock pika perch last year
And one can replay the video of her scaring it away
        when she said, "oh, look."

And over there is the next 5 seconds of trail towards scotchman peak
With an estimate of 30 minutes to the top from this last stop.
And ETD of four pm at the base where your electrics is parked
If you take the drone's zipline home.

Yes, up here one can see the microwave-power transmitter relays,
to watch the drones chase eagles from their paths
while down below our robots terraform the outcrops of rock for vertical gardens
pumping away, fixing nitrogen and carbon in the hot hot sun and warm warm air.

Turning your head that way, you can view uptime of that particular robot's
efficiency ratio of it's nitrogen production
And over there is the weather station readings on peak nine to the left
which is really known for poor temperature readings, says user JohnQstamp.

And over there is the heavy hydrogen mining facility at the Cabinet Gorge
Where they've been bombarding water with neutrons to enrich their production,
Says the wikipedia article on Freenode's VR portal,
Because they had excess electrical supply.

Boy, what a view outside my window, I think
As I take the helmet off, throw the covers away
And put on a robe to go make some coffee.

Thursday, July 14, 2016

Knowing Your Go

Look for the helpers, she said
They're everywhere...
In every disaster.

Look for the hearts, he said
They're everywhere...
Around every mankind.

Look for the music, they said,
Melodies float surrounding...
About every air.

Look for the life, we said,
Spirit nestles in everything...
Between really unreal.

Look for the fun, could be said,
Joy builds humanity...
Behind every childhood.

Here In The Summer And Spring Of Sixteen

I woke without alarm this morning
The cat saw me rejoin after bathroom and purred
And with coffee made, I rejoined again
With You, whom secrets into anonymity

The grass was cold walking in the dew
The Sun is warmly rising
And the world, too, awakens here at 9 o'clock

The deck seems a little cleaner in the morning...
The stillness looks a little more peaceful...
The highway sounds a little slower...
Though everyone is traveling at the speed of life
With their spaceships and light drives
This morning, and every morning,
              here in the Summer and Spring of sixteen.

The clutter calls, "You need more crap."
So I go to it like a lover, and make a hole.
The vacuum becomes so intense,
                it fills in with more crap, soon after.
But it looks cleaner, and I remind myself I have a long ways to go,
And try to purchase less, not that I actually have much money.
I call my dollars, stretch to myself, for a reason
When I'm out chasing pavements.

I'm such a rebel, no?  Trying to buy less crap, Indeed!
Is it so much earning what one works for, as
being happy with what one has... because

Who really invents their own lightbulb but a poet.
Whom really builds their own lawnmower or produce(s).
But we love things, and use people
    And that's why the world is screwed up, and climate change is real.

Tuesday, July 12, 2016

Symphony In The Trees

The morning on the valley
Mist shrouds the river, Sun lights the range of ridges
And the birds call to one another

What a beautiful morning full of life and dreams
A solitude rejubilant, a soliloquy reshared
And in the dreaming people meet

In the meeting, people face
In the facing, joy comes to greet to strengthen and resolve
Ardent hearts and minds with Imagination

And in the imagination, Dreaming
To spread worlds with Joy
Like a songbird rejubilant and reshared the world over
From the meadowlark or oriole, to the nuthatch or chickadeedeedee

They fling care into the air and trust to the wind a grace sweet and divine.
The birds singing and worshipping unmeasured time
For songs and for flight,
                  take joy in the sight of the symphony in the trees

Monday, July 4, 2016

The Grass Will Grow Tall

The cats will grow old
One day their fur will become brittle
Legs and eyes will fade

Their teeth will yellow into old age
Their call will become harder to hear
My cats will wander less and sleep more;
And their hearts will grow smaller
As they dream bigger.

Saturday, June 25, 2016

Moon's Haloed Sky

The birds sing differently in a city
Three syllables instead of two on Robin's tongue
A brashing grate to a chickadee's call
And the ravens scout not for food, but garbage...

In lanes of space colonies with space-ships
Parked in garages two at a time
And lantern's lit against the eternal darkness
That is perhaps the dark-side, of mankind...

Seas of woe, oceans of sorrow
And the stars seed light to hold back their tide
New life brings smiles and sojourn to God's eye
Worlds keep company across distant space...

We trace back to fish, but also back to one race
With one life, and one love, to keep our pace
And soon we'll all sit on mountain top with God
All having taken different paths up the side...

To find a vale where water runs
Stars at night and smiling sun
My soul goes there to greet some grace
Where do you dream some day of peace?

Thursday, June 23, 2016

Boxes of Pathology

On the road to nowhere
A man stopped for a deer
Checked his heart
Checked his car
And motored on towards material worlds
While he left love behind
To find home amongst belongings

He's got his painted walls
And lifted spirit perhaps for having known love
And the wildness carried out from the road to nowhere
In his heart perhaps is more care
Having wondered at it all, Having grown wiser for it

For in what we know, is a box
Trapping mentality of what is normal
Wonder often intuits something is good beyond great
Great beyond time and space
Grace beyond life
Living out there beyond control or design
Just doing their things without much worry
Being their best selves they can be

And to be privvy is a surprise wonderful
And to share makes it all greater

Saturday, June 11, 2016

Elementals In Mind's Eye

Many days adds up to many nights
With the ethereal... really unreal, winding time's clock

To spin tales of creation's veil
Through mid-night dreams and fantasy

The beings meet in-between
From air they slide, and air return
Masters of telepathy, jacks of insight
The aether carries them through to side-real and side-time

They play jokes and come from a planet far
Infatuated and insinuated within our lives, our star
Telling us who they are... "like the best,"
"Grafters" looking for a score

It's not megalomania if one knows they're posing
And so the story goes... and so the story goes...
A fury with a legion in the darkest night,
An elemental with a pick, caught by insight.
Pasts of misuse and broken hearts
A present of sunshine and pleasing stars.
My army leaves without me.

As they just chase a shiny thing of heaven
Left at the end of a tunnel
"Peace on Earth" was all it said,
And left laying after it was found.

Friday, June 3, 2016

Towards Wit's End

Da Gumballs and the Cow I bored
Is a hard joke to plow into.
The potatoes resultant are much fancier
Than the dirt and drear of worlds arear.

The world worships fruit and manure, though,
So I work to supply as much as I can possibly

While I live in the "why" between forks...
While I live in the "and" of all Ands...

perpetually tormented and torn
perpetually edified and educated

While home finds me neglected
And in turn neglect art in recompense.

What measure am I to find in gold and silver?
but a measure of fruit and/or manure?

Ahhh, but to be kind above all and love yourself,
There is the trick and the anthem.

So, I gave a gumball to a cow I met once, to be kind
My friend has a farm over in Minnesota...
And he was sharing it with all his friends
They were all in that field that day, chewing and chewing...
And I'll be damned but if I didn't go back that Fall,
And they were all still chewing that same damned gumball!
And I just totally lost it, saying to my friend,
"I think I saw something like this in Montana happen once..."

Grappled Pines

The grass is tall this beginning of June
The coffee maker/grinder needs repaired
Purportedly in Phoenix it is roasting
No rain fell here yesterday
The roses have started to bloom this second of June

I can hear the forklift down on the Dam,
And with silence, the spring waters spilling.
Some of the trees' new growth is frosted
And our Dandelions grow unattended.
Birds everywhere sing in chorus to crickets.

Moose were here last night pulling up grass
From the thick hedge I haven't cut yet,
Leaving wet footprints like a peeping Tom at our windows,
But fleeing like a stork-legged elephant.
Deer continue to haunt the woods and forest.

Everything is busier than I remember,
First Daisy ever is growing in our yard.

Saturday, May 28, 2016

Alder's Instructions Scrap

On the platform the city lights spread
They support life existent with columns
Bluish and laser-like, the whole world underneath
Etching a distinct memory
Etching the unknown night

I was emmigrating, sent to Chimney, Brick.
(A boring place and quite small with little there
Simple I think my brother would call the place)

And upon instruction, I turned right
Walked and passed through Wall, Brick.
Walked and found company with tame deer,
As the lands said, "We would have you,"
And spooned for a while.

Friday, May 27, 2016

Amongst the Grayed

It's a holiday
Tomorrow I get to put stone hearts
On everyone's grave

Tomorrow the pinwheels go forgotten
The flags stay boxed in China

Tomorrow the time I spent looking down
At all the paths And all the roads
Keeping me down

Tomorrow all the roads of my forebearers
Get lifted and given back
On another blue Monday

Tomorrow happens
You Are Not Alone

Sunday, May 8, 2016

Tomorrowland's Inspiring

One day in Spring, Einstein's head echoed aloud....
"Yes, it is" , "No... it isn't" , "where would the idea go...."
He could've argued all afternoon, but he was smart this day,
And his argument with himself ended before it started
Saying to his associates, "I got an idea!"

He often lost said arguments, producing little work,
But his inventions changed the world.
His ideas revolutionized America!!

And today we have Feynman and Fat Boy
We have gravity and you know how...

Should he have ignored himself and thus the world
That comes knocking on edges of reason?
If he shan't to have answered the doors
On borders of what we know...

We'd all be speaking Drumpfery.

Sunday, May 1, 2016

What Really Is Success?

Questions... of sufficiency
Wonders of job and insurance
with and without privilege
I would still try, I would still try to rise

I hope I would still try to create place for me
For doctor's visit or barroom brawl
I hope I would still try to create space for me
In a headspace of doubts or despair
I hope I would still try to create time and grace
To express Me.

Because I am Not alone
I am me and so they are human questions of independence
Human and humane to ask what can I do against the odds
Human and humane to care

But mustn't we also ask, what really is success?
Because sometimes in definitions of noRmal...
We too are the gatekeepers and landsurveyors
The purveyors of independence

So I would ask you to redefine success
I would ask you to seek what you mean by wealth
Often what we buy is neither what we get or make
What with the slick adverts these days

I would ask you to redefine success
Because I myself am not wealthy, but I have weal
Because I myself am not healthy, but I can heal
And all these things I lack, I yet possess

How can those opposites be possible without my making
Time and Space for me to grace the places without and within
Because it is I, too, the defines what is normal
I, too, create abundance in worlds of vitality
And so I, too, have an important voice as do you
In what is success, or even what is healthy

And your specific questions of independence?
Is a human and humane question
And probably the question of every American

Here's what I come up with:
jobs that heal one as they work at it
employer supported employment
low-stress volunteer work

There's Success to me who's seen idle time crush him
The silence stuff his ear until I was deaf
Seen the love snuffed out by greed
Seen the soul split open by war

But I would also see questions aired
through CBT and family counseling and peer support.
perhaps DBT philosophically with lots of love and hope
You might only have one job, but There you probably have lots of tools
And so it is with me and my life

I have a toolbox, Please take it not away.
And take not my memory..
For in it I keep my pets..
In it I have my peer support..
There's a therapist somewhere kind of beaten..
A family of screws, a couple of frames for pictures..
A typewriter for expression, an internet for connection..
A couple of stopgaps, a couple of shims made from beercans...
Some finished puzzles, a library of poetry from world to street to Hugo...
There's a couple of letters from my school, a diary, a journal...
The books I've made, and the books I want to make,
The art paints and brushes,
Quite a bit of confidence,
Some doubters-grease,
There's flowers I buy for myself,
There's some DVD's I'd recommend,
A lot of turning points, some silver linings,
A final fantasy with spirits within,
Some time I keep to spend with family and friends,
Some time I keep just for you.

I mean it's a real toolbox!!
And I could seperate them into the physical
The emotional, the mental, the social, and spiritual tools
And some people probably do, but who .really does?

Monday, April 25, 2016

A Long Time Ago..

Seemingly a party quests in the Greens
For adventure and riches, but justice and peace, too
And when whom might happen through
Mercs who ride for home and health
Melieuing about with horses around
While above town in High castle there's dancing
A masquerade ball with masks and all prancing get-down
And a music sweet mechanical thing full of harpsichord

At the inn the adventurers sweep and wash for nights fare
The mercs kick back and converse having ridden in.
And innkeeper at bar listens quietly as hearth keeps warm,
Pulling draughts from warm pig barrels on wall with flat beer
Keeping the mud and hard roads of worlds outside the wall,
While townsfolk around town close shutters as sunset draws down

Wherefore do the soldiers' hearts wander?
What are adventurer's eager for?
Who does innkeeper acclaim?
Glory? Justice? Peace? All these things...
Having committed soul to distressing tasks...
Having nibbled horror...

Wherefore do children play?
What are families eager for?
Who does mayor acclaim?
Faith? Hope? Charity? All these things...
Having committed souls to Lords...
Having nibbled ambrosia...

Wherefore do musicians sit?
What are dances eager for?
Whom does the king acclaim?
Respect? Power? Money? All these things...
Having committed soul to water and land...
Having nibbled innocence...

The greenswathed graveyard grows hoary with moss
A skeleton seeking lost life grips fresh earth crawling out
The Raven watches around, the Rat seeks another shiny thing
As silver light casts around from moon past Cathedral
A solemn thing with pooled time, while streets passing...
Channel this into shoots and eddying pools of flowing crowds
On busier days and nights through trees and shops to sides
With lantern lit by-ways and alleys of timber-framed and cob-filled spaces.
This is space, but is also time, interchangeably.
Sources feed and are filled, shoots still... Pools stream...
Like the creek that washes clean with each rainfall.
This is time, this is space, both fast and slow... And sometimes paused...
And sometimes lost to history.
Flowing to free, and freeing to flow:
This thing called life in Time and Space and Eternity.

Thursday, April 21, 2016

Mr. Seedmore

There was a mouse
And on top of hat it crawled
A biIIGG Top Hat with ribbon wrapped

Down in the cellar
Where a tallow candle burned
so sloOOWLY 48 Hour or longer

Mr Mouse crawled around
Where no owl spied him found
but spyYYING Wife cried to him

Saying, "Seedmore, bring some cheese"
"bring the baAACON! bring the peas!"
while scuRRYING in pantries deep

"Bring some nuts, bring some seeds"
and stuuFFING his cheeks
He'd please her much and wanton needs

A curious breath would follow
Whenever they finished filling shopping list
An unseen mouth, with curious tongue, seemed to complain

With 6 meals a day it was quite confirmed
There was someone else of conscious down here
Something or SomeONE ELSE that gained

Once a week it would come unbolted
And his soul this would seek
Darkly in the pantry deep

He'd run high and crawl low, He'd dodge things it threw,
And it would chant his sins, this earthy ghoul
And t'would protest all day long

So him and the missus packed up and moved
Back to the woald and the sunshine and the crew
But he was touched and it had followed, TOO!

The ghoul of earthly deeps was in his fur and tail
And once a week still he remembers some of hell seen
But some of air and earth helps dispel that chanting and recanting

Some of rain and sun helps to heal his churning tail and heady keep

Wednesday, April 20, 2016

Memorandum

The chimes cling
Once again a raven gets a white feather
Again cling rings the chime
A gray hair appears on a lover
More chimes sing
Silver thread is filigreed

The chimes cling
The gold plated turns silver
Again cling rings the chime
A tree becomes sylvan
More chimes sing
Lumber becomes weathered

The chimes ring
The rain becomes river
Again sing the chimes
Sunshine glints in eye
More chimes cling and clatter
Dreams float in from never
To supercede all of reality

Thursday, April 14, 2016

Inna Cup of Tea

The world is too busy
For me
As I sit quietly still
Listening to my breath
Feeling the earth
Drag me in to itself

Maybe it's my Life
That is too busy for me
But something speeds up
And leaves me behind
As I slow my heartbeat

Perhaps it is the walls
That appear to go nowhere



Perhaps it's Father Time
Singing the season's soliloquy



Or perhaps it is my mind, I
That catches up to me...
And me making time
For myself
Wherein all healing
Comes from
To bless souls' sunrise
And extend days' end

All that and more is possible
Dreamed here
And extended
To farthest shore
And ground swelling back
A melody's ancient tale
Of harmony and perseverance


Imaginary Math

The music tunes my head
And I imagine
sub-ether programming
From packaged and portable
Tune and avatar wrapped in
Sub-conscious to sub-conscious
Communiqae relations
Like beta-waves
Relating proper
OCD criteria
For comfort
Of subliminal
Rightness with God.
Ain't that a Crock!?
But I do imagine
Many things
Feelings, sounds, sights
Taste and smells
AND OF COURSE
My heart reacts
Yours would too I bet
Considering how already
It does to the invisible
Don't think of pineapples
Don't think of pineapples
Don't think of pineapples
And their prickly skin
Nor their sweet and sour yellow flesh

Our hearts react
And now my brain
Is trying to predict
Whether I can find a treat
In the hidden
Pantry
Of my home.
I'd ask my cat
But I suspect she
Guesses sometimes
The accurate answer.
But she's right 100%
Of the time
With her companionship.
Can she read
My Mind?

F*n Ironic


Listening to the rain
Cascade louder than fish tank or sunshine
Hides my Smile
But I have to wonder
what great adventure
Is hiding in my smile
that looks like resting dick face.
I do not see myself with my eyes
And often mirrors
Are not like the comfort of rain.
The rain soothes boredom
My mirror?
It spikes my brain
It says this is you
But ignores my chores
My family
And my dreams
It ignores me
And all 6500 Pennsylvanian bones of me
In my foot alone.
And to wit,
Doesn't see my foot at all.
The rain touches everything
The rain makes stream river and lake
And does not judge
Those that drink from it's edge
And with its thousand
Knives
Carves the world
Into a thousand years
But a mirror?
It just sits there
And tells me
I'm ugly
As a perfectly useless
Work of space.

Wednesday, April 13, 2016

House of Gorgeous -- #NaPoWriMo prompt

Many riches are coming to you!
A bit of money, but that is a thing isn't it
Sweet music, honeyed tongues, seraphic insight...
These too make a man rich, as well as.

My heart's dream... a bit of magic..
Spandex yoga pants...  dance...  beer..
A poignant poem, movie, or speech..
A franchise with cheeses..
A lady in blue sweatshirt... and smile..
An unseen sparkle... a tinder flame...

Like fish they swim in my dreams...
They swim toward me...
And swimming in my head like a vixen
I rise to meet and greet.

And clear air makes me breath easier,
Crisp.. it invigorates bones Free
And a bit of profundity can purchase things
That bring smiles or ease
And bunny that seeks me as I chase her
Brings me coming to new outlook
And spreads life spent in love
Brings warmth to worlds
And years spinning seasons
Brings riches from beyond eternity's blind progress.

For what is this world without work and love?
A life without sunshine and diamonds...
A life without smiles..

Tuesday, April 12, 2016

Drifting Chores and Hope's Shores--- P>S>H>prompt by Maggie Westerland

I see him in me because of... humanity?
The struggles he greets, and accepts...
There was once normality, then we grew up
And greeted chaos, and coping, and loneliness..
Along with crime, ignorance, and poverty.

My kindness was nothing next to his on soapbox biz,
Relating struggles and failures, and.. his victories
It takes courage to fight, but a bigger heart to persevere
Through uncertainty... and many don't or can't.

My kindness was to listen and toss in a dollar to his hat,
But His?
His kindness was to still a rocking boat in the wind
while sighting in shores of Hope, though he is 10 miles aside of me.
And it's all aside on this great big lake of time I float.
NOT JUST FOR ME, but for all those akin to him in his concerns, probably 3.53 million...
And of those how many have a computer?
And of those how many have an internet?
And of those how many have a firewall?
And of those how many have facebook?
And of those how many love themself?
I have much to be thankful for, but +1 that today!

Sunday, April 10, 2016

Funnily Home

The race of space rabbits in habitats
Elected this week to study humanity
Specifically our economics, with prime rates
and credit lending, and price tags..

They used their ID chip to get it
Alice kept track of this for them
But during off time, could plan advancement
Transfer, Benefit, Donate, Gift, Buy
The rabbits knew but likened this to Antiquity

Next month was the Arthurians from Gamma Sigma Green
Where people co-owned stocks or stores you'd call them
And drop-shopping was much-more-common
Cause if you sold something, one still got benefits
And sometimes sponsored, which patronage comes from.

And the month after that we would be the ant race of ePhrygia
A barbaric race that had succeeded in faster-than-light travel
But had never learned to farm an acorn, let alone lettuce,
Often drifting for long lengths of time without food or home.

So far, this rabbit was in the black
But my use of electricity keeps pushing me red
It's the stupid space heater, I know it,
What with transferring the habitat between stars
It gets cold, so cold chasing cents in outerspace...
My neighbor was complaining about this too.

But we're funnily here, where our ancestors came from!
And work is work, but I get to use the human satellite relays
To bounce and reflect bits and buts to hearts content.
I'm going to watch Roger the Rabbit with the money I earned today!
I netted a cool million hacking the Hubble Telescope, and it was play.

The Directorate wanted to know something about dust,
But personally? I think she just wanted to look for a CarrotCart on Earth,
She's always so thumpy.

Saturday, April 9, 2016

Lock Me Inside Goodwill - #NaPoWriMo prompt day 9

I like second-hand clothes
The feel and smell of a good deal
The thread-bare or golden feel
The disposable trend
The full-wardrobe head
The snazzy tear in buttock's rear

I like being a bum
Getting second-hands and hand-me-downs
And saying I'm too good for that
But I like this, and having a stump to sit on...
Not sure it's worth the two dollars
or the nickel the pricetag cost.

All too often I'm posed with this or that sale
And a markup with a mark-down, plus the costs of labor
Labor in god-who-knows-where for a couple of cents
Makes me sick, not only broke, but also sick
To pay 40 dollars for a single pair of silk underwear.
Or 35 for a t-shirt I'd have to print something onto to look good.
That kinda stuff sucks, the advert outerwear.
Give me funny, give me broken-in, give me good
But above all, give me sensible.

It was a gray day I sat in that coffee shop... P.S.H. prompt by: Richard Widerkehr

Massive
Hats
Gargantuan
Peeps...
a
Fedora,
hid
passed
up and back by
Continuum
Black
Standing...
Ordering...
I
sasquatch
the credenza
vicariously
minting
biscuits.

Wednesday, April 6, 2016

A Lasting Health- poetry prompt by Emily Vieweg

And just to indicate how bad the situation is with the various polls...
They asked a wicked senescent vulture for her opinion, in turn.
Granted she's more concerned with watching and air-fares
but is considered a sage in watching the world pass
But I suspect she hated starving intermittently

And personally had written me off as too spirited.
So when the bird colonels turned to her..
Was frankly shocked that I might qualify.
I however rated, and so the cry went up, went down
Went down and up, was I purple enough, not blue but some red,

Squirrels knew better the illusion from hiding nuts...
Eagles knew better the breaking from striking their kill...
And the Ravens knew better scattering from searching for meal...
Vultures know some about everything, having eaten it.
What was I to them by woald and wolfsbane on sideline
Watching them, scattering them, breaking them, disillusioning them...
With my humanity.

Hating strife, though... isn't an option when one is on bottom,
But knowing it's bad is half-the-battle(Tm)
If I am what I eat, I'd be watching chick flics, or Oreo commercials...
But what I consume can trigger my acne or allergy...
But what I take in can pain my foot from hard hike...
The adrenaline, cortisol, and oxytocin neurochemicals...
Differing dietary needs for paprika on spoiled meat,
Or do you use thyme, I forget...

Probiotic Fish, Squirrel, Monkey, Human
And so on back-and-forth, levels rising
Multiplexural animorph, polymorph, polymath, sub-genius... Fox.

...the fox with his many tactics in winning...

Watching like vulture, and waiting like squirrel.
Hunting like wolf, evading like stag.
And wintering like bear... Always hungry.
In a world that worships crap and sex, extended metaphor,
And a sailor who can swear a blue streak, perhaps,
And a kid whom can't.

Sunday, April 3, 2016

The Fractal Frictionless World

a box within boxes, you are my house
And in my boxy chair, I squarely sit within boxy room
And square carpet relieves my boxed in feet
Inside my covered shoes
   Of boxed in peeking toes

I peer upon fishtank meek, Another boxed in world of heavy matters
4 panes make a cube and with skin flayed I can see you
A bit, of fire and gold... in the midst of dirt and destruction

Saturday, April 2, 2016

An Untaken Wish- prompt from PSH

If I could unborrow that student loan
Untake that money to go to school, immediately
Gone to community college, feasibly,
I might have kept my friends.

I didn't know going to school was going to wreck my relationships
As the road slid by, I slipped further, till I disappeared
Lost from lives, lost from time As I was subsumed into new world
And met the Irish and Africans, Italians and Romanians
I was Montana, and some kind of skinhead out of Higher Learning,
Simple and conservative, without the hate thing going...
Without the dramatic mood swings.

I didn't know you were going to press blocks on me
Tattoo my skin as flunky for making it harder than it needs to be
Then try throwing me in jail for discarding rat race
And pacing myself to real life and real hell
I didn't know we didn't have time, if we paid,
For to learn how myths or worlds work... How time is playing.

Now you learned, didn't you.. oh, school of Mine
Processing the debt, and disabling your pets so they can't wing
While enabling brains to know why to be dissatisfied
Simply like digging a whole and throwing down Ikea ladder
And if we're missing pieces because they fell farther down outtasight,
Well, one is just screwed, no to do, no hello, no how are you.

And where is the world now?  It's moved on...
Left time to play with it's tiddlywinks down hole,
And spaces play with paradigm shifts like mole,
For Worlds' only have payments for truth&beauty, anymore...
Like some Shawshank redemption escape fantasy...
Where one guy dies, while the other gets away, And the rest serve out time.

Friday, April 1, 2016

It's National Poetry Month around the world All Month Long
Handme Ups -- Lune prompt

Agonized pause,
Keyboard taps
tick-tocks outrace me

The world is loud now
Finding me
Quieter to think

Makes one wonder some
Is one deaf
When one engages

Or does part of me
Disappear
When worlds do so too.

Only reaction
Felt by eyes
Touches my mind now

But mind's prediction
Balances
Intuitive Sights

Saturday, March 26, 2016

Flexed Your Digiphlex

I threw time against my OEM rebranded modem
It bounced and died by an obfuscated fork bomb
And as I poked and prodded source code kernel tree
As I looked up manpages and commands for cross-compiling,
The digital see looked back, if there is an electric one
Like there is a spiritual sea of space and time
That which I source intuitively to generate force.
It seems a last resort...
           to throw time, but it's that or toss crap.
I'm horrible at selling stuff to my friends,
And have only made pennies from busier people.

I remember when I first installed SuSe, the green screen,
The yellow, green, white commands that were programs and files
Plus the hidden ones of basic functionality
In that secret snuggling night the whole world slept dreaming forgotten
That was coming back and wrapping warm arms around my dreads.
The cursor blinked and suddenly I could scroll the infinite window of desktop
The cursor blinked and suddenly, I was dumbfounded at how stupid I was.

Basic literacy was no longer mine, I was lost, coudn't mount drives.
I might have called tech support to ask how to mount a floppy!
And so Diskworld came back with a primer undaunted at having been locked up
In the tiny box that I released from homebrewed computer and companion manual.

Basic literacy must include computer code hacking, plugging and playing... networking
There's nothing like opening worlds... by being able to read and write
We mustn't forget that beauty is skin deep and shallow like a point and click or finger swipe
Might apple and microsoft then be a new slavery through ignorance?
Or maybe next week we're cruzing to the zombie apocalypse...

Quite the opening going on by internets with your digiphlex.
Point and click, command and conquer.. but that's skin deep oh click master
Much of the world wide web is because... how does one pour the sky through a tube..
                                                         ...and would you know if you did?

Perhaps it's a bit like the sage old question, "How does one feed and defend their children if one can't feed and defend themself?"
We all seem to struggle with these questions of sky and earth,
                                                                      and the answer is, "by being kind"
or to paraphrase Jesus of Nazareth....
                       ...."Don't be an Asshole"
or to paraphrase Mad Max...
                       ...."We must try to be our best selves"


for we're all a bit ignorant, we all have glass windows in our home
in a world that just loves to play games with other people for retribution and satisfaction...

Friday, March 25, 2016

Julian Victory

people are afraid of change
change is caused by chaos
and change is therefore unpredictable
so nothing changes because people are afraid

In the rats eye I see a tree sprouting
pushing this way and that, I see a bird doubting.. black
I see a rock up.  I see dust down.

In the mountain, I see it lifted up
And similar topography deepened

In politics, I see people voting
And similar gerrymeandering reinforced

In business, I see more advertising
And richer getting richer

Grieve not for the vampire, he's dust.. now.. the best part
The evil banished, the good of us remain.. vampire, or not
And this dirt.. this grime nourishes the squash the gourd
The zucchini and the cucumber for worlds around.

The tree burned leaves ash from combustion of hell
The garbage composted leaves food for worm.
Leaves food.
Leaves. grows. leafs out
Leafs out and grows more leafing for springs shroud.. springs cracking
Springs cracking of shroud of winter's death veil
Green abounds and mates with the sunlight to bring about life...

from the ashes of vampires...  from the ashes of Worlds and worms, too...

Thursday, March 24, 2016

New World, wtfn order!?

Ramundo Arruda Sobrinho might say if I had a Bieber moment..
If I had a take...
They aren't worth the burnout

If I were me, I'd say wtf
Then I'd say what the fuck. No.
I'm not doing those shows, I'd crack

I'm no machine
We're mystery

you me have seen the last of the mr. bieeber
Purpose or no while everyone is frelling in a U.F.O
close to 80 shows in 8 months, no no no no no
don't

but you signed up and sold shows, so...
go home if you dare, if you can
it's not if but when
they get a piece of your soul and drag you down the well
those middlemen and middlebroker statician snakes that know
the fiction of placenta.. the fiction of conflated boxes..
The fiction of statistics and profit margins for corollary products.

Oh, look my bieber doll.

Wednesday, March 23, 2016

Understanding Brings Conclusions

Three stars shined through clouds last night
As I sat recording chorus of frogs in moonlit sky
They shine straight through clouds and sometimes trees
If There be, there's more than three of them, Sometimes there's five
And I sat, unafraid, knowing no one could see me
If I turned off computer screen while recording.

I didn't get the coyotes, imagined a wolf, heard some geese
And the traffic of planes and cars intermittently
Got me to thinking of the hum.  It's famous around here
The great energy hum of electrical switching stations
Can't get away from it, it's even on shortwave radio on three frequencies

I listened to my phones cause my ears aren't that good
Imagining geese far away in that hum overpowering world's play
And as the frogs mated and called and signed
The geese in valley ruffled feathers, goosed and fell silent.

Like some power modem uploading to central website, but not to relay
But to perhaps localize, or perhaps peter out and catch to drop.
Felt like the goose was goosed by geese, alerting to the drop
Of what's hot, what's good to eat, where you at, what's up, sub-ethereally

It seems an ESP, but maybe it's just brains processing
Like oh, there's frogs... wait for it... trodding through wet plot
"I don't know where I'M Going?"  ahh, "Lightstick" an on top
Setup, recording on moss.  AND THEN I GET THE MESSAGE.
spring, sex, spring sex, sprex... Is that a type of Lego?

And in all that hum-drum there is certainly messages, multiplexed.
Perhaps, what you put out typically comes back to you, probably inspired it.
Granted it might have to circle the earth, come back, and surprise your behind.
But I want you to know, things take time... thoughts, too.
And if my brain were a computer, I'd only process the Moon if I loved her.
And given it's only Wednesday, I'll have to pencil it in on next Tuesday...

Next to those three stars shining through sky clouds beside,

One of them has to be poetry, don't you think.  For if we haven't expression...
we haven't words to speak, questions to ask, imagination to dream..................
The others be Science and Philosophy,
Engineering and Math might complement the sack of skies filled to full with diamonds.
(And there's, gold!!)

Friday, March 18, 2016

Oh Land of Green

Where the unique and mundane dance
What perchance can we predict?
The unique might prance their butt
The mundane... might strutt.

And the two in twain might never meet
Unless in silence you let them be
In silence that one destroys when speaking
And let them dance to heartbeat
Merging in menagerie... with silks drawn upon skin's flight

They caress, they kiss, they copulate
Mating... they populate
And when grey and their wizened flight takes wing
The World is glad it has company
Gaia is glad she has friends,
For she, too, is unique and mundane.
She too, in twain, needs meeting

And would observe, like you, in fleeting...
Would greet and smile and take flight, too
Would destroy the silence, just like you
With moans of pleasure, And screams of delight

Thursday, March 10, 2016

Popular Hot Water

If chlorinated water saved us from disease
Showers got us pregnant, they get me clean
They get our bodies to squeeking sheen
For no bad smells when licking armpits
And rubbing all those elbows together

Whether big brass bulb
Or energy saver
There's a shower head
For any consumer

There's red ones, white ones, blue ones and more
Right there at your discount hardware store
No more will you bath only once or twice
But seven times as likely in pair of dice
For all your opportunity to body flop

Statistically you know I'm right
If people are love making twice a night
More babies are brought by stork
All from showerheads bought at store.
It being, no longer... a couple's chore.

So get laid, buy a showerhead today!
You'll get more play than perfumed body spray...


-brought to you by Little Sherwood Publishing-

Wednesday, March 9, 2016

A Place in Time

These colors, these scents coded into the letter seal
These roses, these petals peeling give to reveal
Wherefore their history deals in attraction
A magnification of spirit, perhaps
For instance the yellow excitation of friendship
Such us lemongrass that zings quickly like conversation

Can we train this relationship to grow as vine
Up cantankerous alcove to flow with berry
A berry for press when needed
Like coveted love letter sealed with red
Or jasmine tea?  Maybe

Maybe we could train vine to grow scented hop
Or stopper up some geosmin from rainstorm mop
For heady brew to recall Earth, too
When we feel hectic through and through

Often we do with our power fobs, our perfume, our cars too
Wherein we need some pickup we apply footprint to suit our moods
Or flat out need to pass through adversity

Our perfume works to work well, Cologne for men
But when we need boost of attitude.. is used, again
And power fobs daily worn or jewelry seems vanity
But can train vines in mind to bring recollection times when all was well and cool
What suits?  What clothes?  What type of brew, perfume or hops or color garden do you?

Some colors, some aromas
Some flavors, some touch
Some sounds, some thoughts
Some warm, some cold, some hot
Perhaps spacey, perhaps grounded,
Maybe spicey, maybe cool

Wizened birds knew

Some soft, some bold
Perhaps easy, perhaps easy too could do me
I once knew the name of rain mopped up in breeze blowing through.
Maybe geosmin might be my aromatherapy and color rooting.
Maybe earth would return to healing my savage brain.
For vine to grow and fruit the trained form
And return the world to us whom skies open upon
Like pelting rain and sunshine in open air places.

Tuesday, March 1, 2016

Have You Got a Toolbox, Handy?

The weather is broken again today,
I saw a Robin in my front yard.
It's March 1st and it is also snowing moderately
Onto the bare and greening ground.

There's talk of spraying ocean water into the air,
Increase cloud albedo to redirect solar rays.
That's a pill.
There's talk of spraying sulfides with jet planes
To again increase albedo to redirect solar rays.
That's such a pill.
There's talk of pumping CO2 underground
Extracting the greenhouse gas, while we're burning it.
That's a pill.
There's talk of more geoengineering to help us.
Those are all pills, in a concrete world of dirty-energy.

Some would take a pill...
Some would go underground locked up for an eternity.
Some would get on ship and sail around with no port.
Some would ride the lightning to see where it leads.
Some would have medical procedures to breath again.
Some would cease all production.
BUT THINK OF THE CHILDREN

There's a whole lot more we can do than Hope for a cure...
If you're willing to listen_______to_pills_______________.
I predicate this because it's real, really here, really now for the last 20 years
In a world, Mental!... social!.. physical..! spiritual.!. and emotional.
Because this is forever, FORE_ever, frrever, ForEver beautifully broken weather
In this new era of the Anthrocene and Anthropogenic Global Weather Changing
And with my pill, We can exercise caution, because is a pill going to fix this? Hasn't!
Won't, ain't going to, already broken, we're through

"Throw your plan out the window and take your pill, Son,
And nothing matters now except what you got in your toolbox of recovery..."
Those things physical that help you through
Such as Solar, Fusion, Renewable, Redesigning, Regeneration
Those things social that help you through
Such as Schooling, Internet, Friends, Family, Work
Those things to mentally help you through
Coffee, pills, more Coffee, more pills, MILK and sometimes Beer
Those things to emotionally help you through
Climate Change Anonymous, voting for Bernie Sanders
Those things spiritually to help us survive.
Humour, Nature, Connections, Facebook, Spirits
....those things to help us survive.

Because that's who we are, we're survivors
from being locked up, from having no port to sail to
From already riding the lightning, from having surgeries.
And that ain't cured nobody of Death and Taxes, yet.
And a pill won't cure your hyper-tension neither.

Think about your toolbox, ya only got one wrench?
Ya only got one screwdriver!?!
Hell, ya probably don't even have one problem.

Banquet of Feelings

Whether we lie to ourselves or to others
To find fault or fulfill our desire
The snow drifts over the open grave
Dug by the nitpicking and passive aggresion of loving Father
Explaining, "well, he done it, now.  Couldn't finish a fucking thing."
He buries his son, but if no one was watching...
He'd probably watch T.V. and get to it, one of these days...
Like his wife certainly would, regardless if the rotting corpse lied next to her.
She lacks that much strength and initiative.

"He's right," pops probably said at some point
Without validation to the deaf ear gone cold
From the lies and the blame told moments ago
In trying to shame son for semblance of control
Like he's always done... round dinner table or therapist
In an alpha and omega twist of dagger in voodoo doll

And it's without validation the body fails without
Into grave, into dirt, unthanked for a million invisible deeds
Apparently unfinished, because they weren't recognized pleasing.
So the boy ran the shortest road out of here and off the planet
Passing Lord Charon and leaving the moon behind, traveling lands
Beyond space and time... out past the land of Nod and into the really unreal
Where secrets are the currency of trust.
Where love is real compassion, instead of a dagger.
Where people are pleasant because they knew friendship,
Where everyone is less concerned with appearances, or pride.

I have been there in the really unreal.  It is a place magical and full of life.
It speaks quieter than small boy and companionable cat,
But surrounds everyone as a matter of fact.
A place where demons and angels walk in same body.
A place that has memory of ancient lords and ladies.
A place in your mind accessible anytime, if you're worthy.
For it is a place out of space and time, rooted in reality as the very bones it's built from.
It's name? History

And it's that history the therapist deals with
All the criticism and nit-picking layered up over the years
All the blame and passive-aggression spoke in our ears
And the father says,"Yes, I did" like he'd gotten away with it.

Ain't that the cherry in cherry pie.

Saturday, February 27, 2016

I Got You a Gift for My Birthday

My bro, My sister
I saved time in a bottle for you

First I sketched out a small painting of one
Then slowly poured in time.  Crude I know.
It wasn't exactly as easy as making coffee,
But about as much fun.

This is a little un-nerving for me,
Watching people uncork it and use it.
My Dad found just a little bit of one,
And now he's rushing off into storms unabated.
Thank God the weather has been mild when he drives through.

It's really not all that complicated
And in fact probably quite commonplace
So-much-so we taught machines and robots the trick
Though they eternally leach the product.
Let us not give A.I. credit-cards I tell you!
They might poach our mercenaries... or...

Each painting I make, each crafty thing created
Is my time in a bottle, useful for many things, not all
Some has to be given up in the process
And in that process, that delineation, that ism, that schism Affixes

Attaches to the Attache' a label of diplomacy... directions, price-tag, form-factors
But there is no sale-by-date, thankfully.
It will probably make someone really wealthy sometime, not me.
My bottles just pile up in portfolio
withering like day old pizza under a heat lamp in digital pizzarias.

Sunday, February 7, 2016

The Boat to Australia

How are gravity waves formed?
By talking to one's therapist, or...
Sharing a secret with friend?
It seems with intent we fritter away energy
Changing our angle, shedding our clothes
But what creates that wave, merely a pulse,
Where an excess creates a lack in a low?
And what's changed besides our mass index clinical diagnosis
Perhaps it's that and those around us that do the changing, I suppose.
Because I might feel lighter and smaller
Or I might feel big and tall
Often I imagine letting go of all, only for it to come crashing down
Back into my world to figure out what to do with once again, after all.

Maybe that's where I'm sheared
A taking off of imagination, plodding to pier
Where someday with phone I'm sitting on the dock after dark
And friend says we missed the boat, It's never coming back, I fear to myself.
And I see it floating off slowly to the really un-real in the land of nod.
Happened years ago, and everyone still worries I'll find a ride.
It's all gotta be low-key don't it Tricky, don't it hyde...

And maybe that gravity wave is only now hitting you
But you cannot see them and never will
However things are different now, you can tell
Instead of my dock, it's a cliff or walk or garden to grow
Or maybe a pile of wood that's grown moldy for all I know
Or it's a kayak never bought, or maybe a fishing trip with dear old Pop.
Or maybe the loss of a Mom, or maybe some clay lying in lot.
And like sand with gravel in it, there's big and small
But it's all been weathered and kept away from me far.
The sea is gone the smoke put out
I've been left to rot, and been left out.
Someone stole a piece, and now they're gone.
I've been ignored and taught in off-hand attendance.
But the truth is I've been neglected, again and again.

I think one day everyone will remember me, but have no boat to fetch.
And in remembrance will definitely say, "we screwed up leaving him" Yet,
Why? I don't know perhaps it's this shiny phone that powers up God!
Though I've yet to get it to work much for anyone else.
Maybe because it's a secret as big as one gravity wave,
Something we can't see, but believe you me, it's Gold with circuitry...

Monday, February 1, 2016

Born This Way

I've earned my insurance
I can feel good about this

Why?  Because I can type
On my worst days all I can do is click a mouse, true
Why?  Because I can answer a phone
On my worst days I let the phone ring as long till voicemail
Why?  Because I can relax
On my worst days everything is an omen of dread

Why?  Because my computer works
On my worst days I'm reinstalling software or deleting programs
Why?  Because my house is warm
On my worst days I forget I turned off the thermostat, radio what-have-you

Why?  Because my life has work and love
On my worst days I can't find or create meaning and purpose
Why?  Because I'm listening to music
On my worst days I can't hear anything but whining overtones of electronics or light ballasts
Why?  Because I have a fine picture frame
On my worst days I am tempted to throw everything out because it has no place to go

Why?  Because my fish entertain me healthily
On my worst days they're trial and error and sometimes have to be flushed
Why?  Because my lamp is off healthily
On my worst days the whole house is off because I threw the breakers
Why?  Because I have food in the fridge healthily
On my worst days there's no fridge, no food, no house

Why?  Because I have bright colored paint on the walls healthily
On my worst days I'm living somewhere I can't paint the walls
Why?  Because my worn rug keeps my feet warm healthily
On my worst days I haven't vacuumed and I get splinters
Why?  Because I can list things I'm thankful for healthily
On my worst days I forget I can even write with a pencil

Why?  Because I am breathing easier for my ventilator healthily thankful
On my worst days I choke wheeze spit and cough from lung congestion
Why?  Because I worked at getting someplace that I could live with healthfully and thankful.
On my worst days I am ill and die thousands of times
The problem you have issue with is one- of a -hundred that I deal with!


Why can I feel good about this health and thanks?
Because it is mine, God is good, and I'm good to give thanks!

The Paints of Soliloquy

The painting lowly clings to the wall
Gripping tightly it holds the all
One world, in miniature, an instance
One can dream in

And in that world you can hold your breath
One could float and drift away from the really unreal
And the mundane crap one deals with whether dishes,
Or the perpetual problems arising from chaos
A sweet song will carry you away from stress

That sweet song, that caress of soul relieving...
Could be made from the bones of the world
Like this poem   Simple in reflection but tied to real worlds
Like a visual vignette portraying fantasy perhaps
With reds of the sunset splaying and dripping up into sky
And blues of deep waters floating mountains rising
And greens of people playing in fields of barely seen haystacks
Blurry, textured, transmitting to you all their realness

But in that paint is power unseen
The cadmium can reside in Livers for years
The lithium could buoy up dreams of living
The rose madder could speed up metabolisms
     like the brown from st. Johns wort certainly does
All if eaten and consumed
     Poisonous in consumption
           From the Cobalt waters to the shining sea

           This thing that freed your life from misery
              Could totally end it so dangerously
           By the very thing that took master to create
              In a tube of leaded metal

Isn't that existence

Monday, January 11, 2016

enroll now in "Cinderollo's Passive-Agressive School of CLEANING!!! --wanted one butler and one maid and one maintenance guy and one day-laborer to split 400 dollars a month Plus Tips !!free Coffee!! Arbeiten macht Frei


Can't walk hardly, always in pain
spends all day dreaming, television and laptop screen
dreaming and games she plays
But the worst of it, she thinks is she can't do a thing.

Can't vacuum the carpet, can't wash dishes
Can't clean bathrooms or take garbage to recycling places
Can't change table clothes, can't wire cables
Can't fix door knobs, can't fix ceiling fans
Can't defend republicans
Can't fix a fire, can't turn the house down
Can't pick up cat litter, can't keep house
Can't participate in family exercising
But she thinks I like being dominated
And uses her tongue to keep it fake
While I do all these things for heaven's sake

Whether through reason or domination
She's talked herself into this...
          ...place where...
            it's not true
     
       just that she can do little things
     with the 12-year-old strength she ruled
 by reason and authority all her occupational life
   (and I'm her 12-year-old adopted student)

Except I already learned lots about life.
For one, I don't care for BDS&M.
And most of kindegarten skills is all I need to get by forsooth.
They can hire a maid and butler and be snobs they like, in leaving their work behind.
Work they think justifies mine in double-standard perfection of hypocrisy.

and so with her 12-year old strength she'll look for new student to abuse
rather than making someone wonderful, she'll suck the fun out of work, too.
unless she learns to change her own narrative of this shitty...
                                       "I can't" she keeps under lock and key
to alas, use her 12-year old strength for smaller victories.
And this is the most grown-up thing I have to say about her attitude.

Tuesday, January 5, 2016

Dysfunction

I saw five chickadees and red-headed woodpecker
In deep winter amongst rays of sunlight, today.
We might not be solar powered, you and me
But I tell, a day without light is a dreary day
Full of gloom, doom, despair.  Like someone shot the dog,
Though that sounds like a good idea anyway, both of them.

The Mr. has gone back to sucking his teeth.
He's still hard of hearing, and plays word games with forked tongue
Saying abusive when he means angry
Saying spy when she means sucker
Saying browbeating when I swear
It's hard living in this perfect family...
    mainly because it isn't real.

We spend most of our time playing videogames
   or games with each other's feeling
Over lice nobody has because we're so worried about appearances as gentlemen.
We have better things to do than nit-pick and worry each-other,
But without fail, we are hardest on our family.
And yes, even our in-laws get in on the action.
Seems... there's a word for it... I can't think of it right now.
With the 'less thans' getting the brunt of it, and 'majors' needing therapy.

One-on-one therapy works, CBT and other patient therapist relationships
I learned with my therapist...
       that I need therapy to better cope with those that need therapists.
Isn't it all so clear as mud?

Sunday, January 3, 2016

Humanity Wins Over Understanding

The construction was a derivative
A break-down of elements
Computationally arrived at, as in this case,
Without art...

Maybe though, that is precisely what art is...
Computation by brains in humane beings called homosapiens
As ball is caught by footballer
Or pitch hit by batter.

It is said frameworks are made by Artitechs, there's a neologism for you.
And these Artitechs draw, don't they, making stuff
And making stuff real!?

And when made, the room with a view, isn't any bridge...
So perhaps Architect is a misnomer,
Subjugating me to years of misplaced pains,
Un-needed and unwanted tyranny.
Or perhaps IT was once a new word considered neologism.

Architect is a poetic word
Bringing a sort of romance to liberation, though,
Sheltering us from the many stressors that is life.
Keeps the rain off me, I know, though feeling put upon
Describing to one such as you, the meaning of art

And there is art to such things as titles...
I could name this summation of vexation
I could name this 'It is inevitable'
I could even name it,
    "What could you possible care about a neologism"

But the truth remains, you read it, and you wanted it
to be titled, "If I truly judged you correctly"

Friday, January 1, 2016

Something Found, Something Created

I watch this show that's edgy
Like my therapist's lasting contribution
Both kind of ironic voyeurism
And a sense of wish fulfillment
Because they've both been paid to be my friend
"And if I like it, I might twitter..."
Like some bird about food or sunlight or danger...

The manger-scene holds the arrangement
Estrangement from controversy leaves little but method
Like Freud and his projected daddy issues
Perhaps that's myth, perhaps that's truth...
In Real Life the complicated breaks leaving crumbs
That are then consumed, too, by natures recycling earth and birds
Rather than gossip, whether behind closed doors or public screen.

The manger-scene holds the method
One family, angels, wise-men, and shepherds
All figuring out how to win and what prize they might choose
In a still, and silent night, they got together and networked
They figured, gifted, worked, conversed, and probably ate energy
Like any CPU with ticking silicon chip sipping electricity slowly

And outside boardroom or makerspace or manger-scene,
Enacted by surly bean capricious with dreams,
Plans and methods escape the singular, inform the plural
Indistinct from ingenuity or individualism.. as conceit or invention
Why not? we're mobile unlike some tree made from silicon dioxide
Or doped silicon and fibreglass for that matter on motherboard.

We can be anything we want.  Do it all...
And dream the possible in our dreaming of everything

Tuesday, December 29, 2015

If Gasoline Lit the Brazier

The painting raised slightly while framed on wall
     I did not notice the frame, the paint
I saw the rarity of the outing
     Out and about in daylit grounds

I wanted to shake the hand, gaze the eye
     Of mankind whom perservered such devotion
I wanted a private meeting over sherry or beer
     With one pivotal person whom's frivolity was definition

We, my smaller family, had a picnic with the small bones, those paintings
     And having the soup made by sous chef
A small miracle happened or perhaps this was just apple sauce
     We had fun, and spent time outside our lives
          As one might spend time 9 feet away from painting...

Curious or fascinated or excited or exacerbated or rewarded
      By some singular artifact enchanted by hand
Never to be used up as long as it was cared for
      Our love is like that, and appreciated by those we spend time with.

And those 9 empty feet of space filled with air and conversation
        Let me reach the nine inches to the turning point
With enough room for me to accept this could maybe work out
        That after confusion, pain, loss... Life goes on...

Life goes on, and good things do happen, there is beauty in the world

Forces to Contend With

Do we awaken and step through said door
Do we weld our entrance and/or fix in past
Is There but one morn that makes all last

There are many turning points, many corners

Even on said morn, there are at least three or four on said door
And in rising, do we then ignore all else
Or perhaps continue on to heaven


These answers and more lie in creation
Many doors of perception
Many morns of awakening
Many painters of memory while pens create history
While swords are left to defend our necks and ledges of living

And when the laughter strikes may at least one cartoon bubble
Leave salt in the wound of tyranny

As song use to leave it deaf

Monday, December 21, 2015

When The News Spins Obstruction of Senses

Sometimes a little piece of me drops
Through into another place and time
Landing in a spot softer, couchier, chair
Where I turn on faux news of doom and gloom.

And there is not the world spinning
But one spinned world convincing of doom
But one spinned world convincing of gloom
Which doesn't fix anything, but frowns upon faces
For gather arounds of one boob tube's programming.

It isn't the end to turn off television
This is the beginning of conversation
It isn't the end to call it a lie
This is recognizing they commercialized
Whenever wasn't it?

With pipedreams and boob-tube feeds
It was the end of civilization on one-way streets
May we circumvent and yet still dream
May we invent and yet still keep all of our hopes alive
For yesterday was programmed

But tomorrow is a dream...
(Futures only ever have been)
Dreamed by you of fantastic possibility,
Of flying machines and miniature computers
Talking watches and 3-d picture shows.
Of test-tube babies and in-vitro creation,
Iteration machines and global communication.
Of digital pizza and high-speed delivery,

The world is made by nothing but dreams, one could argue,
Would you be so kind as to dream a little dream for me?
Would you be so kind as to dream of hope, love, and peace?

Sunday, December 13, 2015

Libido of Greed

The adventure spys a couple of peaks, the tool later breaks and digs
Passion meets and stores in keep nearly all the rest of treasured dreams.
Miners plays amongst the mountains, digs in streams.
Storekeep sells the tools and food.
Bankers save progression of nuggets gleaming.
Gambling takes place at the saloon.


While curiosity asks who's getting rich off this pay to play life.
And that day the ranks advance, a boon is fancied
Lumber bought, store built.  A tool shed is born of second-hand items.
Gold brought, items shipped.  More business spreading in the spanning bottom.
Maybe glass is bought for display.

While wisdom asks who's getting younger off this endless sitting life.
And that day the ranks advance, a boon is fancied
Vault bought, scales weighed.  A combination locks away pleasure's greedy exchange.
Nuggets weighed, guns hired.  More business spreading in the plump stocking.
Maybe corporation is heralded.

While liberty asks who's getting smarter off this deepening stream of life.
And that day the ranks advance, a boon is fancied
Tracks laid, labor paid.  An engine dials up the golden and rushing play.
More found, more people around.  More business spreading in the old hat.
Maybe lawmakers swear oaths.


For nothing on this dirt inspires like refelective yellow earth.
Though tin a room with it, and one won't live long.

Friday, December 11, 2015

Row by Row

There's a farmer in all of us... We toil, we serve, we grow up
And want something in return. I want proof!

I don't want to till profits under
I'd like something wonderful...
More than money, more than manure to grow it.
I'd like typewriter to type this.
(and I have it, leaving me wondering... where begins me...)
Anyway there's a life, and I'm truly thankful I'm not one thing....
robot, or machine, or calculator thing

Because there's a little farmer in all of us,
We want paycheck, and privacy to spend it
The proof of work that I did...
And I SEE THIS... (and that)... (and this other thing)...
It's all around, da farm... with harvested field...
And field stubble grows cold, the snow, the rain... sleeping thing.
And low sun brings little light to plateau...

The field of solar power with but plants sleeping
The field of singing, hoeing, rowing, plowing, stowing
The fields of possibility which hold plateau's higher creativity,
Creativity of sorting choices,
Choices of flowing light.
Light of poetry that is and in and of and for... Life.
Perhaps as sprout grows and knows not but intuition and some signals of surrounding environment.

I am the farmer and the sprout.
I am a grower, too.
You are as well.