Pre-ramble
What to do, who to be
in a world of laughable acts,
orators, disaster and
facts?
Be your sensible self, I suppose.
Reasonably irrational,
find a story that’s
yours, it
will be original
and don’t
subscribe to
theirs.
What’s valuable to value.
What’s a memory in
what's left?
People who die in
their last sleep,
surely meet death in their
last dream.
An in and an end to a karmic cycle.
Well, that’s the medium,
this is the message.
From hats of cats and dogs,
garden lizards and
words.
What do you relate to
in this multi lingual unfurling
twirl of culture that’s as shapeless
and reformed as
water in every
instant of
vibration?
A local code,
hackable genome,
a story in every soul,
and where do I
go from here.
Mars?
or where do we stay
from here.
Gaia’s brethren,
my feathered bipeds,
friends, foes,
and
those who don’t
know me the way you now
do.
Do you?
Exchanging the present
for the future in every
moment.
What’s knowing but in these lines?
the next is someone else,
rambling thoughts?
To know is just to
ramble on so
I’ll stop,
and
Hive mind
Naïveté.
Not really knowing
your self.
Awareness, inspite
of the mess.
Messy days past,
a lasting impact.
The right
way
forward.
How was one to know
a place
through a
movie or two.
Really?
Stained teeth at
twenty six,
reeky.
Devilish deceitful
bullied bully
being.
Stealing in the scars.
Such
is a world
only now awakening
to the verse.
Unreliably you and I,
by design,
in a schizoid universe
awakening, that’s life.
Sounds of geodes,
high as a kite.
Kindness in light
of brevity,
always in clarity,
through bad,
and the sadness.
Routine
Cardinals on wire
above
winter blankets
this early
morning.
Silvery orange to blue,
now velvet red
streamers in flight.
Building backgrounds
of brick laid
by strong men,
painted in
with fair ladies,
their art and
conversation.
Coffee and a
bagel, maybe some
chips to crunch on in
class, she said.
Leadership of distractions,
this afternoon session.
Acidic seats of emotion
and dazed, angered,
troubled torment.
Leaved in.
Till evening on
bed hearing the
voices go by, crying
inside and a salad
for dinner
maybe.
Twinkling night
with bare shadowy
trees,
clothed roof tops and
vicious ice by
window sill.
Time to sleep.
Sweet
dreams.