Archive | November 2019

Infrared Neck

Visual Revelations

Is the image of heat loss enough to evoke
Irritation and feeling stiffness in the neck?
It may be therapeutic to use infrared
To support diagnosis – not to be misled.
Why elude the believer? It’s proper to check
With a sensitive instrument to see what broke.

We should care for our Gelicals in the best way
Because Evan delivers the pain in their necks.
Redness responds to infra because it’s below
And indeed further on to where people can go.
An aching for a race war is not so complex.
Simple minds need a leader to plan out their day.

The right book states an Imperfect Vessel shall come
And his mission to usher in Armageddon
Is fulfillment of prophecy. What a delight!
Those who beam up to rapture will only be white.
All religion is human. Spirit makes us one.
Consciousness is an illness. We can overcome.

Do I Need A Container?

The Questions of Life

Is Defining My Life Force a worthwhile pursuit?
Or should I remain timid regarding nonsense
As is seen by this busy world? Is what I do
Of a value consistent with right points of view?
Silly world, I am childlike! My faith is immense.
Self-discovery for me is an absolute.

Do I need to be guided while I’m on my way
To wherever my spirit has pointed my heart?
We all are flesh containers. Those older than I
May be of some assistance. But I can get by
On the infinite wisdom of which I’m a part.
I must know who I am or I’ll surely decay.

Within me there is substance. It and I are one.
This complex earthy medium makes a fine tool
That I’ll use to explore to my true heart’s content.
There is nothing more meaningful than good time spent
Looking inward. It increases my psychic fuel.
There’s no end to my searching as long as it’s fun.

Afterlife

Transition

I have died, and I’m here now in this afterlife.
It’s not what I expected. It looks rather bleak
Like the life left behind. I discern no big change.
Things that are in both places I can’t rearrange
To my liking. Forgive my most honest critique
But what I see ahead is continuing strife.

Have I made this illusion upon psychic death
In a knee jerk response to prepare me to see
The Omega of afterlives waiting ahead
All because I believe now that I’m truly dead?
In believing it’s so, then it’s all up to me
To live up to what follows ‘til my dying breath.

Is there light? I don’t see that. At least, not right now.
I was told I must go to it, moth-like in trust
That reality will vanish once and for all.
This world that I’m believing could be my downfall.
How I deal with non-time here will still be discussed.
This death is a transition I humbly allow.

Keep It Simple

Simplicity

How can I keep things simple? My life is complex
Not because I’m a Virgo, but that I’m alive.
Saturn transits my Neptune at ninety degrees.
My wake up to reality gives me unease.
Somewhat lost in confusion my ill thoughts deprive
Me of life force and clarity in all respects.

The depth of my uncertainty too is unknown.
I don’t feel that I’m meaningful in a big way
Nor do I feel connected with those of my kind.
Until Saturn moves onward, the fog in my mind
Will try to hang above me and damage each day.
I must know I’m still worthy and not so alone.

I’ll rely on simplicity in my routine.
I’ve collected much clutter. It’s not justified
As a part of my makeup. It’s locked to the past.
I need to Keep It Simple and remain steadfast.
This thing won’t last forever. I’ll take it in stride.
It’s a time to examine my truth and come clean.

Toward A More Natural Order

Economies of Order

It’s a nonverbal language of lucid morphemes.
Acquisition or learning are possible ways
We may come to express what we see as our truth.
It is best that we learn how to speak in our youth.
That’s because when we’re young we put fun in our days.
We all read from the same book, or so it all seems.

Is there natural order to how life evolves?
Can we find a predictable sequence within
Spatial substance suspended adrift in the mind?
If the mind fights with nature, is it well designed?
All pragmatics, semantics and syntax are kin
To the global phonology as it revolves.

Language is as it should be… a social disease.
Subdivisions of virulence grow big in size
And compete for world dominance and point of view.
We become more programmable and less askew.
In the common collective we can recognize
How to become more fluent as our nature sees.

Volcanic Defecation Forecast

Extreme Privacy

A big blast from the small room where bathing takes place
Is the source of embarrassment for the house guests.
They know no one is bathing. The sound that they hear
Is the elimination of what causes fear.
The host must take accounting for what he digests.
A loud dump is the outcome before the disgrace.

In the Oval Office there is no air-tight room
With a stainless-steel toilet to muffle the sound
Of the violent expulsion of all the ill deeds
Because many an investigation proceeds.
The whole world braces for the bowel movement profound.
It’s a gross revelation of impending doom.

The blast comes in the form of a soundbite of news
Telling of something horrid. It gets even worse.
It will grow to a shit stream of disgusting facts.
We have not heard the worst of this wicked man’s acts.
The alarm is our knowing that soon the foul curse
Will be lifted from us. This man will pay his dues.

Bowels can be rather noisy, occasionally.
It’s a sign that we haven’t been treating them right.
If we stuff them with evil for decades on end
They will shout with a loud voice. They do not pretend
That they haven’t been messed with. Our future is bright.
The White House is no outhouse. They will come to see.

A Land Of Raw Milk And Organic Honey

Contrast Irony

I can’t double-click well when my fingers are cold.
The AC must be kept at the proper degree
Or I will not cooperate. I have my rights
Because I’m an American – one who delights
In detailing my comforts. Life is about me.
I can maintain some smugness in what I behold.

That land has to be promised by someone like God
Is a fact or a myth I can live with and hope
That I’m on the receiving end of what is good.
But what of all the others who would, if they could
Be providers and reapers? I broaden my scope
Of a true situation one cannot applaud.

Milk and Honey means bounty and everything nice.
To most, it’s an ideal… to few, reality.
All land has its own goodness. All life came from there.
We, the creatures who tend it, could give it more care.
Our world crises we nurture, not willing to see
Human nature is something earth can sacrifice.

Freewheeling Abandon

Freewheel

A visit from Uranus to Venus is like
Having Santa’s elves over to Feng Shui your heart.
I review my relationships. They need to be
Shaken from their sclerotic routines as I see.
All that I’ve become part of could use a fresh start.
To hell with an old mindset. My will is to psych.

That I do well. It’s not like I’ve not what it takes
To discover new ways of relating to all
Who indeed are my brethren. Commitment I give
Only to more excitement in all that I live.
What had been strong and stable has become banal.
When the heart becomes unstable, the soul awakes.

Uranus is the rebel rouser in the sky.
He brings on inspiration to seek out new ways
Of defining our values, our tastes and desires
…Those things that are of Venus. My spirit requires
Artistic stimulation, as my mood will raise.
Venus will be upset when Uranus drops by.

The Anatomy Of Feeling

Color Vibration

Electrons paint our feelings as they flow through nerves,
And like all good conductors, the nerves in return
Propagate waves magnetic, attuned to their flow.
Waves traverse space with great ease and complex cargo
That consists of our moments. I want to discern
What my feelings are made of as my heart observes.

Yes, the nerves are like wires. We’re much like the machine.
Our electrical systems respond to Ohm’s Law.
When our moments are transmitted and then received
Nerves within the receiver, so it is believed,
Replicate exact patterns felt and without flaw,
Though we may not perceive them unless we are keen.

Knowing deep pain or pleasure, each have the same feel.
Our high current protection limits either one
So the rational mind can measure in detail
What it is that we’re feeling so life can prevail.
We can re-tweak the system so that it will run
Like a fine feeling engine. Is this not ideal?

Keep Your Gum Off The Bedpost

Common Place

Keep You Gum Off The Bedpost. It’s not the right place
To park something retrieved from its oral abode
Entertained by the teeth, tongue and tonsils by day.
At nighttime can it be wise to treat it this way?
Gum cannot remain safe when its pace has been slowed.
It’s as if a good runner is pulled from his race.

And when parked on the bedpost, the germs in the air
Are free to make a fine home of its resting mass.
Gum will regain full flavor, not of what it had
But of crap in the funky air, and this is sad.
Any fool who would do this is quite the jackass.
One who chews funky putty needs wise mental care.

One must use proper hygiene when dealing with gum…
Never mind that the bedpost, because it’s erect
Through the night in a dark room may give someone pause,
Why put something disgusting back between your jaws?
The harm put upon gum from nocturnal neglect
Can come back to upset one and make one feel dumb.

Be Sincere

Social Performance

Film is rolling. Now, give the world your whitest smile.
Don’t tell me you don’t have one to proudly display.
We all have social standing. Is yours not above
Those who are at rock bottom? Do show them some love
By reminding them life is much better your way.
Don’t you dare let your mask down. It is your profile.

Be alive and in good health for all whom you meet
On the street, if they’re worthy of some time of day.
Use your keen sense of judgment to fully assess
How much they are like you or hopefully much less
So that you feel of value in life’s cabaret.
Claim your sense of fulfillment from Satan by tweet.

But be kind to the losers. We speak from the soul
With our hearts heavy-laden. Stage presence we lack
And our costumes are tattered from playing our parts.
We all have one director who knows all our hearts.
In a heartbeat we’ll leave here without looking back
Knowing non-actors exit with none to condole.

Do I Need A Co-Writer?

Programmed Terminal Distraction

Hanging on past my world worth, I seek not my own
Group of lighthearted losers. Alone I decay.
One misspoken raw truth or a social faux pas
Once a day should not get me involved with the law
Nor should it take my birthright to be here away.
Nature does still support me in its Twilight Zone.

Gnats don’t help with my writing. They get in the way.
I’ll assume that it’s personal then take offense.
Their obscene aeronautics hijacks attention
Even if there’s no light source. They do this for fun.
They are faster than I, so it makes perfect sense
That for such a transgression I shall make them pay.

While in flight, I can spray them with something that burns.
Rubbing alcohol works well. A delicate mist
Knocks them flat on their asses. I take much delight
Because now they’re so dazed they can’t put up a fight.
When they start fucking with me, I cannot resist
Brushing up on my mayhem against all concerns.

As they frantically gasp and flail after they fall
I now master the last laugh and take back some pride.
As I watch them grow weaker, I’ll spray them again.
They’ve messed with the wrong creature among insane men.
As I see that they’re hopeless, I feel good inside.
After that, I will kill them. My wrath isn’t small.

Do I draw such contempt from those of my own kind?
Do I act out in consequence of being cursed
As a highflying nuisance disrupting the show?
That I know nothing of it causes me to grow.
Someday I’ll cease my wars, but right now I’m submersed
In one of my own making. It’s all in the mind.

Women And Power

Strategy In Power

When and how to use force are the questions to ask
Among so many others before waging war.
We’d prefer conversation and working things out
Yet throughout all our history there’s little doubt
That we are prone to fight and to even the score.
When it comes to destruction we’re up to the task.

Have there been female generals in the wars past?
Who knows how they would fight and what harm they could do?
There are some of a fortunate few who could tell
Of the hell they went through that we cannot know well.
We know only of fighting men. Women, we view,
As still much less than lethal and of lower caste.

Women have been in office, but playing the game
On a man’s world stage and with the rules now in place
Is a leadership lacking in human resolve.
We can remain one-sided in how we evolve
But our old ways embellish our racial disgrace.
When women define power things won’t be the same.