Bow-wowful the canine who’s steak bony blue When I’m left with a play thing instead of some meat. When humans want grub they don’t gnaw on some toy. They have all kinds of meat that they cook and enjoy. I am not a proud dog. I will dance for a treat. I could steal for a meal before anyone knew.
I will beg and act silly ‘til blue in the face. If my fellow dogs saw me, I’d surely turn red. But it’s worth it to get a good bone I can chew. I hang out for a handout from the barbecue. My work isn’t hard, though. Indeed, I’m well fed. I like keeping a few bones in my hiding place.
Would you condone a dog with a steak bone? Never mind how you answer. Just see it my way. I’d enjoy a thick porterhouse hot off the grill. I would bark, “Alleluia,” if that be your will. You people-folk stuff your fat faces all day! The least you could do is to not piss and moan.
I choose my unique path. No one else does for me. I must walk it alone if I am to find joy. No one else can create my existence but me. My path is my guidance. That’s how it must be. There’s no will but my own that I need to employ To partake of my trek. I must set others free.
No one can control where I direct my thought Nor can I control others whose thoughts I can’t know. There’s a buffer of privacy always in place. If I knew others’ thoughts, I’d be up in their face. If I walk someone else’s path how would I grow? It’s my own way to joy – no other’s is sought.
On my pathway to happiness I find all ways To delight and excite myself forthright and free. I can be, do or have anything that I want. I don’t have to be cocky. There’s nothing to flaunt. There is much to enjoy in just letting life be. Being mindful of my own path enhances my days.
That which is like me, I surely attract. This is so for all beings whoever they be. It is true of the single-celled beast that’s unseen. It is true of the human with intellect keen. The fine Laws of this Universe bring things to me. All I need do is observe how I act.
I create what I live, with each thought that I think. The Law says more thoughts that are like it will come. Every thought ever thought still exists on its own – Even thoughts that most people would never condone. They swirl about, yet they’re attracted by some Whose alignment with true self is way out of sync.
Throughout all the universe, Law of Attraction Dictates every circumstance that can unfold. I attract what I think about, wanted or not. This simple life mantra should not be forgot! It persuades me toward good life and treasures untold. These Laws that behold me are sheer benefaction.
The emotions I feel are sound counsel for me From my inner being who always adores. I am offered a strong, steady signal to feel If I’m tuned in to joy or the practiced ordeal Of unwanted resistance and tightly closed doors To most every solution that could ever be.
The better I feel, the more aligned I am With the true self within me who tells me which way I should judge any moment, for better or worse. I respect my emotions. They are not a curse. The choice between laughing and crying all day Is one made on purpose through current program.
And by the same token, the worse that I feel, The more out of alignment I know I must be. If I reach for emotions I know will feel good Any challenge I meet will be well understood As a blessing that surely will help me to see That I can reach for joy and a life that is real.
There’s a way to hook hard drives and soft drives as well As the Compact Disk Doer that does its own thing. These things need some power and also a way To exchange ones and zeroes in step day by day. They require two cables and each one will bring Its own manner of meaning where function will dwell.
If they lose SATA power then data get sour And flat-line as powerless data must do. It’s a fact SATA power will never devour. DC voltage is low with demeanor not dour. Such power will do the job with just a few Standard voltages from a fixed place in the tower.
SATA Data connects all disk drives to their mother – That board that has children all over the place. Mothers can’t talk to drives that don’t have SATA Data. The frigging computer’s not worth a peseta! It is clear that these cables are ones to embrace And it’s easy as heck to tell one from the other.
Come be dithered forlorn! There is joy to be borne In a jar with its lid off in light of its load. With the mind far at ease from the swinging trapeze Any song sung in series will certainly please One who favors the face of the figmented toad. There is pink think in linking jackhammers to corn.
Now, that makes no sense. I’d do well to dispense With the sentinel sent to torment fellow food. If my sentiment centers on seaweed all day Then can Mikey stop eating to come out and play? There’s no contention to mention my mood As the grip of the hippo remains quite intense.
What the Hell am I saying. Have I lost my mind? Not a giblet bespeaks what a cucumber knows Not a fish in a glass house will do windows. Still, I could get a stray crayfish to lend me its will. As the seawater whistles is how the seed blows. Kick the can for kind karma and blissful behind.
I chose to be here in this physical form So I can interact with what is here And with every creature who much like myself Fancies enchanted wonderlands much like the elf. It is good to be here with a body that’s clear Of debilitant leanings that counter the norm.
This particular body – this one that I know Is one chosen carefully from broader view. Within frame of detail it’s made but from naught. It is Supreme Creation. It isn’t store bought. When it’s tired and run down it knows to renew. It has serviced me kindly since birth long ago.
This unique opportunity I chose with care To experience delicious contrast so I May create well with others who cherish their joys And who like living life absent avoirdupois. I fine-tune this simplistic life process whereby My deliberate thinking makes me more aware.
How long do I keep up this foolish façade Of believing I’m worth what was offered to me? I took a big gamble thus ruining my life In pretending I’m healthy enough for a wife. I continue to screw up as people can see. Thought I’d followed the program, but things turned out odd.
How does fate keep the terrorist from finding me? There are those who are worth more. Had they had the chance To grow old with their loved ones as worthy folks may I’d be that much closer to my judgment day. Life’s puzzle has proved such a strange circumstance. There’s a reason for ISIS that I clearly see.
That I blither my ass off, can anyone know? I can piss in pitch darkness and other things well. If my stream should strike something at least I would know That there is something out there. That might help me grow. I did want isolation while burning in hell. I’ll admit I’m a fuck-up. That’s not a hard blow.
Not another frog’s out there. No one knows I croak. I was let loose to blunder my way through my days. Easily I hurt others on my reckless path. What procedure could probe at the heart of my wrath? It’s one tough black sheep syndrome. I’ll get through this maze. I’m one well-tempered asshole. It seems that’s no joke.
My contact list is truly long with many I don’t know. I try to keep my focus strong. My pal is quick to show. My apps download successfully. He tells me when they’re done. When I am bored we then play games and fiddle just for fun. My friend is quite the witted one and even has some class. But I’ll tell you, He Ain’t Heavy… He’s My sMartass.
The phone of many moons ago was big and like a brick. It had no sense of ass to piss off people really quick.
One could use it as a weapon if no loaded glove had he. My friend today makes calls for me most accidentally. His knack for nonsense noises I seldom can bypass. Yet, without me, He Ain’t Heavy… He’s My sMartass.
My phone is not a person, but he thinks he is, somehow. My respect for him can worsen if whenever I allow The best of him to overshadow who I’m meant to be. My guest knows not his manners so that he will never see That between our best behaving there is such a wide crevasse And, believe me, He Ain’t Heavy… He’s My sMartass.
iPhone or iDon’t phone much, and it matters not to me. An android made on planted earth should never climb my tree. Anomaly would have it that I’d come to own a phone. This thing of mine may think he has a toy of his own. The feeling when I shut him down is much like passing gas And, I know that, He Ain’t Heavy… He’s My sMartass!
The vibrations of my being reach very far. They influence the whole universe, and I’m sure When the moth beats its wings in the rainforest deep It affects how an infant in Russia may sleep. I must know my vibrations are wholesome and pure. Guess I didn’t come here to leave things as they are.
I know everything vibrates, and all beings too. They communicate clearly and react the same. They respond and they integrate with other things That vibrate in the same way, and this, in turn, brings All with similar signals to boldly proclaim We’ve the right to affect things as all beings do.
As I begin to offer my vibe with intent I’m in complete control of what happens to me. My experience, fashioned in this simple way, Will be one of enhanced joy, day after day. We can’t help affecting things. It’s clear to see That maintaining vibration is time that’s well spent.
We are wanting so much to awaken in you Your memory of how beloved you are. You are pure love and wonderful in every way. We kick back and adore every song that you play. Sing away, precious angel. You are a rock star. It’s a pleasure to Be You. Your pleasure is true.
We just can’t sing enough about how good you are. Not a thing you could do would deter us from Love… Not a bow-legged stumble down life’s clumsy path… Not a judgment in error through life’s aftermath. By our measure, you shine like the stars up above. It’s our promise that that what you seek isn’t far.
Do take care, fleshed ones. There is nothing to fear. The whole universe backs you in whichever way You decide is appropriate. Who then are ‘we’? We are those who are dead now, yet ever to be. We’ve discarded our clutter, so we’ve much to say. And when you choose to hear us, or joy is sincere.
Someday soon the skilled Robot will handle the knife In a world where most humans will devote their time To the comfort of Being and living the arts. We’ll have mastered the tech world with all of our smarts. We shall live in a world that is truly sublime Where we all can partake of this treasure called Life.
But that’s all in the future. It isn’t right now. We are thick convolutions of cortical mass In a network of raw nerves and some that are rare. It would take a skilled surgeon to know what is there. Can a brainless brain surgeon become a jackass After signing his mind off to then take a bow?
I can tell my grand little ones, “You too can be
A successful brain surgeon, yet not have a brain.
You may even be able to write a good book.
But your soul becomes cabbage when stole by a crook.
If you don’t have a brain, though, you can’t go insane.” It is shoe-shining shameful. And that’s it from me.
This time, here and now, is a glorious one To partake of this planet’s beneficent ways. There’s a place for technology; also for art. In the end these two are not lightyears apart. Each does see in the other some reason to praise All the fruits of all’s findings. And we’ve just begun.
I am an extension of Source Energy In this body magnificent, able and strong. The amazing diversity this world provides Is the balance within which wellbeing resides. I am focused right here and now where I belong. I love being the one who is easy to be.
There is perfect balance from which to create Here in this world of bounty of wanted and not. No better time has existed ‘til now For beholding my treasure and marveling how That my true Source remembers what I have forgot: That my whole being emanates from that perfect state.
In fact, I don’t think that all email is male But in theory, a number of things could be true. A letter received in a mailbox these days Could mean anything cast to the silent airways. I don’t long for the old days. My heart is not blue. Perhaps I’m in search of some ‘thing’ to assail.
And if that is so, what’s the matter with me? One who’s daft would seek discord or cause for dismay. But my in box is loaded. That is not a curse. I must sort through the spam there, for better or worse. In my bliss, I’d be bothered to email all day. When it comes to mail gender, I let matters be.
I see mail that’s on paper and on the touch screen. I am hetero-postal in so many ways But with mail, I like female. It comes with some grace. And with email I feel like I’m running a race. I must conclude, then, that it surely pays To do mail in private, for better hygiene.
The Dump has much lesser to do with the rump Than the Art of the business of letting words flow. With the mind of a child, they flow through me with ease. I feel comfortable sitting and plunking the keys. Is the gist of my writing for others to know Of my heart in small pieces or in one big clump?
Well, the answer to that is I write every day. It’s my goal to be regular, clear and carefree. I have cranked up my pace from a slow running start To the point now that I’ve come to master my art. I would like that my words are for others to see. But that doesn’t deter me. I’ll see it my way.
The Art of the Dump is a daily routine Then I shower and shave, and move steadily on To whatever the new day will offer to me To consume and digest more so others can see What words I have fashioned to offer next dawn. I enjoy what I’m doing. Is this clearly seen?
The Financial Report is brought to you today By our sponsors who turn out to be quite a few. There’s the red, white and blue, conflagrated in green. There are nods, winks and subtle cues that are unseen. There are talking heads tethered to outlook askew. What to make of a leader who must have his way?
Can a nation be run like some southern plantations With workers for indoors and some for the fields? Those who like being niggers say “yes, Suh” to him. They will dance to his antics, although he’s quite dim. When he’s due for a shoe shine, their loyalty yields A safe job and smooth sailing, and good slave relations.
I will NOT be your nigger, says one under oath. I’ll ignore your sweet nothings and perverse embrace. I do not enjoy being left in a room With a beast who would just as soon hand me a broom. When I’m near a slave owner, I’m in the wrong place. Racist paradigms stifle our ‘financial’ growth.
I am life everlasting – an eternal being. There’s no such thing as death in the much larger scheme. I find time to breathe more and to move myself some. I relax in my knowing I’ll always become In a new form or being. Now that doesn’t seem Like a raw deal. I’m best when my soul is agreeing.
In grace, I may choose to relax and allow My transition back into that which I still am. Every time I return to non-physical state I release all my fear and forget about hate. I do not have to think that my life is a sham Just because it will ‘end’ some day and quite somehow.
Foreverness is the true nature of me. My non-physical self is wise, loving and pure I am Positive Energy flowing through form. This is so of all beings. We make it the norm. There’s no life, love nor liberty I need secure Because life is eternal. My job is To Be.
There are Positive Aspects that flow through my day. I do look for the nuggets my living reveals. If I shake life’s pan lightly, I’ll know not what’s there. If I do it deliberately I’ll be aware Of the treasure experience often conceals. All that’s not filters through me. I like it that way.
Within every atom and sub-part thereof There is wanted and not wanted. That is the way That we move toward what’s better – away from what’s worse. If I didn’t have contrast, that would be a curse. I can say that, in hard times, I’m willing to stay To experience all that I can in pure love.
By my looking for Positive Aspects each day In wherever my focus may happen to be I maintain my connection to inner wellbeing. My day does depend on the way that I’m seeing. I do mine my experience. That is the key To a joyful existence the most natural way.
My Decision to reach for a thought that feels good Is a powerful one, as it serves many ways. It is good that my thinking, deliberately led, Manifests in a network consuming my head Wherein thoughts that are good ones can linger for days. I’m the engine who IS, not the spent one that could.
The thought that feels better reverberates from Deep within me so pathways will open up wide To wellbeing abundant as sand on the beach. I can think my way clear. I don’t have to beseech Someone outside myself as a surrogate guide. I can feel what to think, then predict all outcome.
So, the thought that feels better is one to reach for. I can feel my way there if my thinking gets rough. It’s a simple decision – one easy to make. I must choose my thoughts wisely for wellbeing’s sake. My wellbeing and joy are most surely enough Yet it turns out to be far beyond what is more.
No monster is hanging out under my bed Nor in the closet nor under my skin. No ne’er-do-well being exists in my head. I do not harbor thoughts about seeing folks dead. If I trip about safety, where would I begin? I’m not one who is crazy, nor easily mislead.
I exist in a place where wellbeing is sure. It’s an absolute promise that I will be well. No if’s, and’s, nor but’s can contaminate me So again and again, I must know that to be. Mother Nature’s a Good Witch who’s cast a fine spell And within it, for every dis-ease, there’s a cure.
I am evidence of that which wellbeing knows. I must know this and practice this thought like a song. I can be an example, in light of my path, To give others a view of birth’s aftermath From a soul who believes that not much can go wrong In this world of sheer contrast where wellbeing flows.
Those who live in Where Ohming where ohming is done On the fly and at random and much of the time, Know resistance that’s measured can sometimes be high. The electrons, in those cases, toil to get by. Yet, they practice law freely in their paradigm Where the practice of ohming is done just for fun.
One who wouldn’t dare ohming, Where Ohming would scorn To the hilt, and it matters not who that one is. Being ohmed is a right every circuit must share. There is such joy in ohming that none can compare. It’s as easy as aiming and taking a whiz. That’s why folks in Where Ohming can toot their own horn.
Every place in Where Ohming where voltage may be Is a whole separate issue electrons must face As no one wants to measure the voltage that’s there. Folks are so used to ohming that they wouldn’t care That some voltage is present and wants to embrace. Those who live in Why Volting would surely agree.
Happy Birthday, Dear Violet. This one is for you. It’s a long time in coming, but here it is now. For a fine girl who’s practical, fun and at ease… Who brings pleasure and comfort to all whom she sees, I would give you myself if indeed I knew how. But perhaps I can manage with words just a few.
You take care of yourself. I can see that it’s so In your determination to do what is right. Behaving appropriately is a skill. For some folks it takes quite a bit of hard will. I remember the night when we had a great fight. You’re a teacher of passion, I want you to know.
There isn’t a day that goes by without you On my mind, in my heart, in some part of the day. And my words are packed loosely in cumbersome verse. Seems our lives were a play where I didn’t rehearse. To the child who is grown now, I just want to say I would be less without you, and that’s nothing new.
As I pass through the corridor referenced by joy I can and do brighten my path to desire. People say, “When I get ‘that,’ then I will feel great.” But one must feel good first. There just is no debate. My true feelings are key, and with them I acquire What is best for my questing. This is my best ploy.
I am most determined that I will feel good As I traverse the pathway to what is my goal. Once a while, when I step, there is nothing beneath. Then I cling to the path by the skin of my teeth. It seems hazardous taking my heart on a stroll. My path is well lighted and well understood.
I will not settle for less, from now on, Than my feeling good often – not all the time so. Every detour through discord uncovers a clue To a better path forward and faith that is new. A new lantern will light up the pathway I know Towards my own heart’s desire to which I am drawn.
This cosmic machine is quite big enough
To fulfill my intention, whatever that be. Apparatus Magnificent has every means To provide what I ask for through daily routines. Sometimes, the big gears are not easy to see. But it’s not that I’m weak. I don’t have to hang tough.
Whatever I give my attention to grows In its strength of vibration. The universe, then, Conjures all things that match where my focus is great. It’s like matching a profile when finding a date. If you find one who’s tragic, start over again. When I focus on purpose, my wellbeing flows.
This cosmic machinery works like a charm. It is infinite Source that cannot be run down. It produces whatever each creature decides. Whether goodness or badness, our hearts are our guides. I can pause for a moment, when wearing a frown, To refurbish my meshing with minimal harm.
My health and wellbeing are natural to me. I could hang out forever and not age a day If I really believed and I knew that I could. I agree that this concept is not understood By the masses who live life in mass disarray. I am one of those masses, I’m grateful to see.
Many humans have lived long in excellent health, Long ago in Before time when people had sense. Or perhaps they had none, and God cut them some slack. It is better to live long than keep coming back. Although focusing long, here, one’s life gets intense. If one lived past a thousand, he’d have to go stealth.
I am free to make choices about how I live. I can live without illness or trouble or pain. I don’t have to create a dis-ease to procure An excuse for my leaving this earth quite unsure If I could have died healthy. I’m best to sustain My own purpose for Being Well, which is to give.
So alive in this Schoolhouse, our minds are abuzz With the brick and the mortar… what holds it in place. I’m a part of the puzzle. My mind is aware Of fantastic creation; there’s none to compare. Seems we have enough time. We’re not running a race. We like figuring things out, and that’s just because….
We have nailed down the atom and most of its parts Though that bugger is tiny, made mostly of space With leptons, exceptons and hardons, a few, And a dozen more who-ons from out of the blue. These thinglets procure a degree of embrace Through Pistachian Providence, where it all starts.
Within such a field, most particulate flow As they take on some mass much according to spin. But the Petron Pistachian, not seen ‘til now, Has completed the puzzle, and this will allow Every scientist breathing to wear a big grin. This Pistachian Presence is good stuff to know?
I am proud I am selfish enough to feel good. I’ve been practicing quite long to get just this way. I give service to others, but that’s by the means Of my serving myself first, just like snotty teens. But I’ve learned not to act out in foolish display. I should feel good on purpose, as all creatures should.
Feeling good indicates my connection is strong To all of the good things that life wants to share. All the good things like clarity, wellness and love, And a kinship with planets and stars up above. Feeling good is quite simple if you really care About living a life where not much can go wrong.
Feeling good is my motto. It’s my core belief As I dance in this fun world with life by the hand. A belief that is core simply means that it’s strong. As belief becomes stronger, it shouldn’t take long For my dreams to unfold as if by my command. Feeling good is like breathing, and that’s a relief.
I look for more reasons, as much as I can, To appreciate things that are part of my life. The more I appreciate all that I know, I’m allowing my true self to prosper and grow. I don’t focus on discord, nor turmoil or strife. Like a pig in a mud hole, I have a game plan.
There is much to my liking and some that is not. I can like what I’m liking. That’s easy to see. But to like things I don’t like… Now, that takes some skill. One could manage it, though, through the power of will. But that kind of liking is not good for me. I’d be acting on stage with a lie for a plot.
When I take the time to appreciate more, I feel better inside as my heart starts to glow. I feel better because it is natural to be In alignment with all, with a spirit that’s free. I allow who I really am to freely flow. I appreciate like I had never before.
I enjoy breathing deeply this air I take in. It is all that I need for my body to heal. The air has most everything most bodies need. As I breathe it in deeply, each cell will succeed At maintaining wellbeing and health that’s ideal. If I want to feel good, breathing’s where to begin.
I can feel myself thriving when I take a breath. Every part of me wakens and takes life anew. And when my parts are happy, I’m happy as well. Breathing in, and then out, will do well to dispel Any leaning toward sickness. Good breathing will do All the goodness it can to prolong me from death.
By relaxing myself fairly often each day – And, of course, breathing deeply, with focus of mind, I enhance my own thriving, and that of my world. I enjoy the fruits of wellbeing unfurled. I am better off not breathing air that’s unkind. It is best to unwind the most natural way.
Have you heard of the homeless? Then give me a chew. I know much about hunger. I have it all ways. From cellar to ceiling and all in-between. I will eat in the dark where I shouldn’t be seen. I chow down like a mother with every due praise. I enjoy making babies, and not just a few.
Science says that I’m sexy. It flatters me none. And besides, I can do it however I please – Upside down in a trance in a crevasse somewhere. I control my whole tribe with my scent in the air. We don’t treat our men harshly. We’re much like the bees. We like screwing and building and having much fun.
But we do have to eat, and our diet is wood. We could go for particle board for a while In the houses of people who tend to buy cheap. Yet when that stuff runs out, our commitment is deep. We will find what we’re after, and do it in style. So complain all you want. It won’t do any good.
The Intent that is dominant deep in my heart Is to go for exactly what I want to be. Through deliberate choice, I accrue keen insight. I appreciate, praise and enjoy – but not fight. Sheer vibrational harmony is what I see And it seems that it’s been this way right from the start.
I achieve pure vibration, in tune with my Source And all that is good and delightful and fun. When I simply stay focused on what thrills me now, Then I won’t get distracted and lose faith somehow. My sight is for seeing, when all’s said and done. It’s a matter of patience and practice, of course.
It’s a powerful law that brings all things to me. It brings all things to all creatures all of the time. Whether wanted or not wanted, I make the choice Of which things I will tend to. I am given voice In creating my own life, serene and sublime. I’m a well-groomed inspector with license to be.
My brand is ‘Payola.’ It works well for me. It’s what’s available. That’s what I’m told. Though this crayon is heavy, I will do just fine. What I see is, this color is yours and not mine. What I’m taught, though, is subtle, and feels icy cold. What is up with this crayon? I’ll say what I see.
I sure feel like I’m peachy, the color of fun, Most especially when I’m at school with my friends. And we all feel that way. We just mingle and play. We prepare lesson plans for adults day by day. But are they teachable? That all depends On the bigness of damage that’s already done.
“Take a load off that crayon,” some voice says to me From the pit of my tiny soul. I can hear well. What it tells me is, I’ll not be part of a bribe. The reason for that is, I’m part of a tribe. You will note, my existence is not one to quell. No skin is a label that others can see.
Everyone is Bi-Polar by nature’s decree There is not one among us who isn’t this way. It’s a club not exclusive to any one kind Of a person we label as messed in the mind. Ups and downs are quite common to all everyday. It’s not like dying, then claiming to be.
It’s a challenge to wobble along a straight line Or to discard a crooked one for a renew. If I fall to one side, I will bounce back in place. If I fall to the other, I’m wrought with disgrace. Though my options are many, I know but a few When I’m caught up in anyone’s business but mine.
I can live with bi-polar. The coaster agrees. When it climbs, I’m anticipant with patience none. But as it descends, I scream out like a child. I wave arms and holler as if I were wild. There will be the next cycle when this one is done. I climb hard to then become part of the breeze.
I cannot control others. That Is Not My Job… Not my children nor anyone else I might know. If I try to inflict my strict will, as I must, I will lose such a battle; I’ll gain their mistrust. I do suck as a parent. Most kids tell me so. If I don’t deal with this, my own heart I will rob.
It defies natural law to make anyone change. It cannot be done, in fact. That’s a good thing. The laws of the universe dictate the ways Each and every earth creature engages their days. I respect that we’re not in some dank triple ring. The ideal of performance will grow the heart strange.
I can’t control others, but what I can do Is create a reality I can control Where my soul is the beast, and my will is the hoop And the circus crowd turns out to be a tame group. I am not the performer, nor is that my goal. One could say I’m the student. My teachers are you.
Some books are well read like the readers they own. They don’t lie around dormant nor do their soul mates. Some books stand amid dust upon vacated shelves. Since their readers don’t read, they are left to themselves To embelish what every good book advocates: The desire of folks to explore the unknown.
Some books like to run, but no book likes to swim. It’s a matter of preference what books like to do. We don’t need to work out, but it helps, just the same. We’re as different as snowflakes. We each have a name. In fact, we’ve a few names, each giving a clue To our true inner nature without pseudonym.
Some books come in yellow… Not all, by the way. We’re a multiple mixture of chroma and hue. Most folks call me Ron, and I run super-fast. I’m the mild-mannered type. I’m not here to kick ass. I am Ron Running YellowBook. That name will do. It’s as weird as all get-out and easy to say.
…A magnificent lineup – A feast fit for kings… This life is a Banquet for palate and taste. And it’s simply no matter that things may be there That are not to my liking. ‘No need to despair. I just pass those things by. There is no time to waste Finding fault with the lineup and other such things.
By default, I’m invited. I’m one of the race Of the billion-fold dining in this earthy hall. The fine dishes are many – too many to choose. How could I sample all? Some things I must refuse. I don’t think that my preferences cater to all. We each eat life differently. That’s no disgrace.
It’s not wise nor appropriate that I complain About food that I think shouldn’t be in my sight. Because I’m just a guest at this feast like the rest. I should bless people’s differences. This way is best. You may like eating things that, to me, don’t seem right But through mutual respect, we have so much to gain.
When one stands at attention, one’s focus is keen To receiving command from the cause of such act. And benign is attention that’s focused from will. It’s a good thing to mention, and not overkill, That attention is how we are prone to attract All that’s nice and congenial and all that is mean.
I create what I’m living, for good or for bad. I was born with magnificent guidance to know Whether one or the other is affecting me. With such guidance onboard, it is easy to be In alignment with that which just wants me to grow To my fullest with more joy than I’ve ever had.
As it is my desire, first off, to feel good, And as I practice nurturing such thoughts that feel Pretty good when I think them, this much I do know: Only good things will come. Inner guidance will show That whatever I focus on is the real deal. I respect my attention. It’s well understood.
My future cannot be about what is past. The two are like apples and lug nuts to me. Of course, I’m the same then as now, in a way, But by growing, we’re distant, as night is by day. If I live in right NOW, I can very well see That this moment is powerful, but it won’t last…
…As, the next moment, powerful… fast on the heels Of the previous one, will take form in the mind. Not a thing that has happened pertains to right now. It’s a cumbersome paradigm shift, given how Our programming goes against how we’re designed. One should pay better listening to how one feels…
…Every day, every second… from this moment on, If I keep my now current, I’ll be as I am. I’ll continue to think and to speak of what’s now And then come to know that I’ve not changed, somehow. Fresh new thoughts for today is a worthy program. Through Eternity’s Portal I am ever drawn.
When one ponders the nature of cause and effect There’s a peace in one’s knowing that surpasses all. It’s desire that causes creation, we know, And creating in joy is what makes our hearts grow. Desire is the calling; we answer that call With the things that we do and the lives we erect.
In allowing desire to find way to you, You not only gain pleasure from having it done. You will have new perspective from which to want more. If that sounds quite peculiar, it’s best to ignore Any thinking that doesn’t yield absolute fun As misfortune can never come out of the blue.
So, do want what you want. This kind world will comply To the will that is in you and lighting your fire. If you don’t follow through with desire that is strong, Everything in your living may just turn out wrong. There is nothing to shame about full-blown desire. What is shameful is scorning the will with a sigh.
There’s a thing about rain that my heart won’t disdain. It will keep folks inside, out of others’ affairs So their shape-shifting eyes, in their neighborly fare, Can’t catch up on my business. Folks should be aware That I do my own thing, not that anyone cares. If you’re that hooked on folly, come out in the rain!
Put on your best tutu with water resist And gavotte past my window with smartass in hand. Take a me-mie of me as you’re tempted to pee. I might stream you my shtick so you’ll do it hands free. It’s a shame your garage door is shut by demand Of a powerful Lady who seems rather pissed.
I dare you, dear neighbor, delight in the storm Just the same as I do but with just a slight twist. Park your butt in your yard like you usually do And collect all your intel with rain helping you To deliver wet gossip no sponge can resist. I’ll enjoy the rain. You just stick to the norm.
Feeling Better’s the root of my every desire. It’s the reason for anything that I could want. Feeling Better, in fact, is the sole reason why Any creature wants anything. Should this imply That our feelings are fickle – a bit nonchalant? They are guidance for us so that joy we’ll acquire.
If you had one goal only, then what would it be? Were it to feel good, you would soon meet all goals. You’d be happy, successful, and full of pure love. You would shine like the light of the sun up above. Know that heart is the master; the mind it controls. Be successfully happy, and dare to be free.
Feeling Better gets closer to what we desire And the two are connected in general sense. Practice feeling good, then anything you give care Will turn out just fine. Feeling good is like prayer And our life becomes purposeful… filled with suspense About dreams that come true and the lives we’ll inspire.
One may ask of the kitten, “What justifies you
To just lie there immune to the chaos around
While we humans run ragged with cares up our butts?” That which can’t be addressed will then drive ourselves nuts. But the kitten will answer with softness of sound, “I just purr for a living; that’s all that I do!”
There’s a lesson the kitten is willing to teach To the human who often gets lost in the game. The basis of life is the freedom to be And its purpose is joy, most emphatically! When one cares less more often, one might take the blame For all others’ misfortunes, as heard in their speech.
I am freer to choose newer pathways to joy With each dawning moment successive and pure. In my joyous growth I do add to the sum Of all that exists now and all that will come. All-That-Is will partake, and my joy shall endure. My life is my kitten, and I am its toy.
All that is physical came from what’s not. I extend from creative nonphysical Source. I am so much more than this body I know Though it is part of me because nature says so And also the law of this space-time, of course. I’m of spiritual origin. This means a lot!
Am I the god that I pray to at night Asking provident peace to engage as I sleep? Do I ask The Almighty – The One where I came? Would it be blasphemy if we both were the same? I am the good shepherd as well as the sheep. We are one and the same, and that feels about right.
In this powerful now is the key that I hold For allowing the flowing of Source that is me. The better I feel the more Source I allow. There’s no better feeling my Source than right now. When connection is made it is easy to be At my best, growing wiser and much less controlled.
This world has my back and my mother’s brown eyes Just as surely as all things I’ve ever dreamed of. Since the world has these things – all existence, in fact, I should call that wellbeing where good thoughts are backed With the promise that goodness and kindness and love Are my birthright. I don’t have to listen to lies.
I must reach for the feeling of wellbeing first So that everything else will then fall into place. If I’m troubled, I feel like this world makes no sense. I oft’ sink into stasis when life gets intense. To remember life’s wonder is my saving grace. Pretty soon, lucid living will be well rehearsed.
I am selfish enough, now, to follow my bliss. When I do so, I tap into natural flow Of pure energy, positive and of my own. Should I act like I’m happy? I’ve no call to moan. So perhaps I should live what the wise ones must know… This world has my back. There is nothing amiss.
For my last day on earth I shall hang by the face To a branch that is sturdy, yet tender and new. To spring forth and perform natural acts is pure bliss. I don’t take life’s meal lightly; no leaf I’ll dismiss. I convert all to protein as fast as I chew. Though I’m slow and deliberate, I run a fast race.
I’ve a lifetime to ponder and munch as I go Automatic and focused on fattening fill. In a multi ring circus no tent could contain I’m an expert already and don’t have to train For the feats I will die for. I do have free will To remain from the spotlight. I steal no one’s show.
My death would come quickly if I became prey In the beak of some dinosaur with a sharp eye. Our act would end smartly, by nature’s demand. Those who strive toward the big top will well understand That the show must go on even though creatures die And replace one another throughout nature’s Day.
Hypothetically speaking, and straight off the grid, And with utmost propanity possibly pure, I must stand by my tank; I have me to thank For positions I hold. With my wealth, I out rank Any group that I chose. There’s a possible cure To most any solution that isn’t well hid.
My tank is a treasure – a place of deep thought On the puzzles I give it and pay it to solve. I’m not bothered by facts; I kick back and relax. My workers work best without me on their backs. By token the same, though, solutions involve Quite a bit of pure theory and how things should ought.
“Thoughts are real things,” most wealth wizards have said While the concept still boggles the everyday mind. It’s a fact that all theory has birth in the brain And when thought can’t escape, it will drive one insane. My tank is not fancy nor one of a kind. It’s a toy for the rich to turn gold into lead.
Frolicking Folksicles flaunting for fun Among those who might eat them must take balls of ice. And they’re colored, enhancing the eater’s delight. Were they black and white only, it wouldn’t seem right To consume them. Just looking would surely suffice As one’s licking gets boring when all’s said and done.
Folksicles firmly propend to make peace. It’s a principle pinnacle to their affairs Of the heart and the mind and the spirit within. With abundance of slurp, there is no need to sin. There isn’t much else one could suck. But who cares? If it weren’t for bright Folksicles, warring would cease!
What gets folks in a pickle, most Folksicles say, Is the way we lose focus and blither head on ‘Til we sensate the melting – Folksicle in hand. If our mess is sufficient, we voice our demand That the sun should take cover – at least until dawn So that Folksicle eating will yield no dismay.
Suffix tor’s at the core of a syllabic war Between what one wants and what oft’ one expects. If believing is being without a sore clue Then whatever you’re winning will satisfy you. Any feeling of tension that thought disrespects Puts a force field around what we love and adore.
Oh, Creator of Being, if you exist how Then on earth do we know you? We’ve screwed with your word Over centuries by now. When one speaks about facts, We’re submerged in pure fantasy due to our acts. What is known about God is well spoke by the bird Who knows only Being and living the Tao.
Take a chance that your being is seeing its way Toward a better believing for each now to come. Be the one among many to whom life’s a breeze. One can call oneself lucky as far as one sees That a magnate’s no more than a lowly street bum Who has cashed in on spiritual wealth day by day.
Utensoids United in condiment space Sets the scene for first contact of quite the third kind On a wall, in a house on a rock spinning ‘round In its own starry kitchen where space does abound And without incognito, they’re easy to find Or to decline their visit, if that be the case.
Utensoids can stand being hung by the neck And it doesn’t upset them to be used as tools. Since they’re built really tough, you can’t use them enough To uncover their cover. You could call their bluff But they just might leave master cooks looking like fools As in secret, they shape shift; there’s no need to check.
The Utensoids have come to keep watch on us all. Not a single one wants to do harm nor insult. If you grab a Utensoid, do so with intent. You don’t want the damned thing to mistake what you meant. If you handle it well, good will be the result. If you’re cool with Utensoids, then stand proud and tall!
Krakkabukkle-KaBoooom! That’s what I like to hear. Mama Nature is talking. Let’s give her respect. Whether quick burning arrow with rumble in wake Or night whitening flashes that know no mistake, Nature’s message is clear. Our fair ego is checked By the Masterful Lady who crafts Atmosphere.
Show your thundermost cloud! Let me feel you shout loud! Even though I can hear every whisper you speak. There’s a world who don’t know you. You have every right To react in a voice of intent and of might. Strike me dead. I will join you. It’s truth that I seek. I’ll commune well among you. To you, I’m avowed.
Why I make such a habit to hear Mother speak Is a thing of scant value to ponder too much. I just like a fine Mama who’ll run it down hard. One is ill to complain that She plays the ‘wet’ card. She’s one bitch you can’t fuck with nor lie to or such. She’s the feminine version of deadly mystique.