Tag Archive | life

Carrotface

Psychotic Armaggedon

People know of my orange glare. It’s now world renowned.
All I have in this world is my balls and my face.
Who puts all things together? I do. I trust Me.
You’ll get used to the rust flush eventually.
I’m entitled to everything due to my race
Even though I’m not qualified nor am I sound.

This great nation is pussy that begs to get fucked.
I’m the best one to do it with help from my boss.
In my own right I’m ruthless but he is supreme.
I endeavor to be like him. That is my dream.
What I crave is some bitch’s face to cum across.
I’ve a God given right to abuse and obstruct.

All cockroaches and rabbits succumb to my rule.
They will eat of my face and drink my precious blood.
They will bow down and worship unto my command.
Those who take a good fucking sit at my right hand.
History will ensure that my name will be mud.
I’ll be known through eternity as The Orange Fool.

The Miss Pearline Club

Soiled Senility

In a stinking club outhouse in poor negro land,
Elder hens with their sharp beaks first pray to our Lord.
To be Christian is part of our slave masters’ ways.
Should we take what we get and then give those dicks praise?
Christians jumpstart the habit of making folks bored.
The loud lull of hypocrisy is less than bland.

It’s the club of one person whose name is Pearline.
Everything that the club does is all about her.
Why an elderly narcissist is catered to
Has to do with submission to her point of view.
I cannot work well for her. The truth I prefer
To the spew of a fuckwit whose sense can’t bee seen.

It’s The Miss Pearline Club. Boy, did I shit the bed!
Had I known of its true name I would not have joined.
I thought it was a club for all kinds of old folk
But it’s just for old black women whose minds are broke.
Old men are of some value. From them is purloined
Every scrap of soul dignity before they’re dead.

“Why not flush the damned toilet?” My words reach their ears,
But from there, there’s a disconnect, or there’s no brain.
I’ve attempted to do it, but there’s a big lock
And the thought of my breaking it puts them in shock.
My shrink told me to quit. I offer much in vain.
I can now see beyond how this cesspool appears.

Every Good Snowball’s Chance

Winter Doodle

Liquid, solid and steam are the natural forms
Water makes its appearance. The snowball is one
Most aesthetic in nature. Formed into a sphere
By the hands become magic in mood cavalier,
One considers the snowball the essence of fun
Even when in the midst of aggressive snowstorms.

Every chance that a snowball could hope to attain
Completely by its own merits should not include
Being cast like a bad human soul into hell.
Idioms of psychosis in common hearts dwell.
To me, such an analogy seems awfully crude
Because it’s not uplifting; therefore, there’s no gain.

But then I’m not complaining. This world is just fine.
I enjoy frosty winters. The child within me
Wants to find other children and play in the snow.
I won’t disrespect snowballs. They were made to throw…
Not to mingle with thought forms of catastrophe.
All our chances are fluid, as if by design.

Inner Stability

The Stillness Within

There is strength in solidity to the extent
That it makes the heart hollow so resonance rings.
What’s inside isn’t emptiness. It’s a strong voice
That is heard only by those who listen by choice.
A strong sense of direction is what wisdom brings.
I have learned to achieve goals through firm commitment.

The heart, filled with vibration, distributes life force
To the bell become being. Order I attract.
Thought flow waxes pragmatic. What’s done can take root.
I consume perseverance in my life’s pursuit.
I can adhere to all that is rooted in fact.
All that gives my life meaning must come from my source.

I distinguish what works and what doesn’t by now.
Time to flush what is useless approaches past due.
That I know who I am is apparent to me.
It takes self-understanding to truly be free
From abstractions of failure that rarely ring true.
Things do work out, and I need not think about how.

Stable Genius

Horse Sense

Presidents need a stable? This one must think so.
Does he think that the ‘s’ word begins with a ‘c’?
If a c-table jenius could ever exist,
This one fits that description, though he may insist
That he can play both roles most superlatively.
What the hay may be chewed by is now become show.

He’s the boss of his stable. His berated beasts
Bow in brutal benevolence broad-based in fear.
Commanding them to whinny to will of his whim
Can never be sufficient to pacify him.
While alone in the stable, thought renders austere.
Hay becomes less fulfilling as everyday feasts.

As his soul places women abreast to the mare,
And as ample uprising becomes the world cry,
We may know he’d have made a fine pimp were he black
And brought up in the real world of danger and lack.
Blacks who do become president don’t cheat and lie
To the hoodwinked cult following who’d keep him there.

 For the head of a horse’s ass, horse sense is keen
In its handling of stables and sorting manure
From the hay most appropriate for state tv.
Smart is he who can horse around? Let that not be
What the nation must settle for, lest we endure
Leadership by the stupidest ass ever seen.

A Frantic Pace

The Blur of Life

People, places and objects blend into a blur
Right before me, and I am a part of it all.
I take care of my business as all others do.
I’d prefer to decipher the things that I view
In a manner more simple. I need not stand tall
In the midst of the madness that needs to occur.

Information on overload sent and received
Through magnificent networks designed to make ease
Of the process of living is what I become.
Life is listless and hopelessly humdrum to some.
The world can’t cease its motion nor can it appease
Those in search of contentment however perceived.

There’s a sense of excitement. Can I remain calm
While swept up in the live stream of energy flow?
Yes I can is the answer. My mindfulness of
My most cherished connections with those who I love
Counterbalance the tension. It’s good that I know.
Though it is overwhelming, I have not a qualm.

The Heart Of The Matter

Self Appreciation

Superficial relationships baptized in wax
Melt away in intense heat among any few.
When engaging with others, the meaning I seek
Is a deeper connection. The words that I speak
Are a soulful expression few can misconstrue
As the sound of some object open to attacks.

Writing can be romantic. My odd verse and I
Are each part of the other. Our hearts beat the same…
To the tune of awareness of all I can be.
All the things about people that satisfy me
Can be my point of focus. To love is my aim.
I might not feel this way long, so that I will try.

I acquaint my emotions with such a rare beast
That behaves as an intellect with an ego.
Creatures such as these, tamed by subconscious insight,
Will become worthy pets who can yield much delight.
Knowing self and accepting it can make it grow
So that grace and abundance are aptly increased.

Patience, Heal Thyself

Gentleness is the way of the soft, healing heart,
Having gained its compassion from having felt pain
On a deep karmic level through many lifetimes.
I have learned well my lessons when my spirit chimes
With the will to share everything, as it’s humane
To be kind to my kind with wisdom to impart.

When the wound seems incurable, time is at hand
To absorb the experience for what it’s worth.
I can get through the torment as I’ve done before
In adjacent realities I can’t explore
Except through meditation. I’ve come through this earth
For the needed rebalancing as had been planned.

Often chained in the cellar and hidden amid
Psychic ancestral rubble, the wound must be known
If there is to come healing. This may be my way
Of fulfilling the mission. My heart must obey
What the subconscious patterns within me have shown
To be qualified teachings I should not forbid.

For The Future

Not For Now

On a road with dark boundaries and with and end,
There can be but compliance with all that takes place.
I can’t see through the thickness. Chaotic and gray
Is the fragile conundrum I live out each day.
My wheels oft’ spin excessively to my disgrace
Due to pent up energy I need to expend.

It remains optimistic. My outlook today
Is one ripe with potential. Enthusiasm
And a new depth of focus attend to my growth.
Since before my arriving I’d crafted an oath
To feel good things and bad things and not to succumb
To the robust impatience that fetters my way.

We are here but a short time. As my time draws near,
I’m aware of my deficits. Late is ok.
That way it becomes easy to play the wise man.
It’s, again, a part of the original plan.
To ride into the earth plane and make my own way
Is to prepare the next time that I may appear.

Breaking Away

Ease of Escape

Emotions are excitable. I could rebel
Against my quaint surroundings. On impulse I move.
Feeling stuck in my routine, should I break away?
If life were unpredictable I would obey
What my spirit demands. All else I’d disapprove
As would make common sense to the bat out of hell.

There’s a truth in confinement that must come to light.
Clarity, when it’s needed, is brought on by change.
Expectations too dormant don’t make for surprise.
If I want to stay healthy, I must realize
That disruptions are blessings, although it sounds strange
To the robotic nature that cannot know right.

I’m at ease with what is now, but not without stress.
This odd mix can’t do much but short circuit my will.
Restlessness is relentlessly up in my face
Showing me other rainbows I may care to chase.
Please don’t try to restrain me or make me sit still.
My response may be shocking and to the excess.

Feel The Before Time

Malignant Nostalgia

Why the past makes so present this mist I become
Can no longer be answered. My mood relays far
Between binary guardrails. It’s in danger of
Being run over. If there is grace from above,
May it free me from feeling I’m not up to par?
I’ll stay inside this fine day since I’m feeling glum.

I don’t get ‘touchy feely’ at drops of most hats
But textures of some feathers that some need to hold
Bring on deep irritation. Some feel awfully nice.
To experience feeling, one must pay the price.
Some way to escape safely I shall make unfold
Through creative and totally right-brained formats.

On the brink of delusion, to mitigate fear,
Can the only solution be sinking within?
Subconscious influences are stronger right now.
I can sense more, and all feelings I should allow
To enlighten me and not get under my skin.
What appears to be foggy shall soon become clear.

Affluenza Vaccine

Unspecified Disquietude

Life is full of abundance. All children must know
That all good things are wonderful. They attain worth
By the feelings we give them. But things exist here.
Dense is this dire dimension though sometimes most dear.
Every child should experience comfort and mirth.
Should behavior befuddle, then how must that show?

How could one feel neglected in paradise found
With no effort nor struggle? Need they have concern?
It may not be apparent. If true, we are blind
To our most valued assets – the fruit of our kind!
Life cannot get so complex that we can’t return
To more wholesome relations and sharing unbound.

Interact with emotion. Avail of your time
To their own daily drama. Should they seek advice,
Let it come from the one who cares for them the most.
The responsible parent need not be engrossed
In the ethics of “coolness” and how to be nice.
What they need is attention, and this is most prime.

Free Range Peeves

Surprise Annoyances

Peeves are lousy as pets. How they get on one’s nerves
At most inopportune moments just to say, “Hi.
We’re so glad that you chose us. We won’t go away.
We’re programmed to disrupt you throughout your long day.”

I regret that I have them. They oft make me cry.
It’s a tough situation that no one deserves.

So, I bought some new storage – a network cloud drive.
Now that it’s been connected, it wants to make friends.
Did I ask for a friend, yet one without a soul?
Any app that gets friendly just wants to control
More than I had intended. To what selfish ends
Does it give me such grief? I’ve no will to survive.

And these damned pets are free range. They migrate about
In a haphazard manner. They up and go pop.
Like most arrogant weasels, they act on their own.
If I click on the app, nothing useful is shown.
If I cannot disown them, should I try to stop
Their aggressive behavior? I struggle with doubt.

Pet Peeves are a fine nuisance. All should be called strays.
The worst ones that are free range deserve the most care.
When a seller’s fine product continues to sell,
Too Much Mouth has the helper that may function well.
But you screw with desktop icons. How would you dare?
It is best that I end here. I haven’t much praise.

sambo donaldo

Ridicule

What an odd nigger sambo! That’s not a white face.
It’s more of a rust color due to failing health.
No doctor will go near him to tell him he’s ill.
He’ll decry what may help him. He’s caught in the thrill,
Having worldwide attention on his perceived wealth.
He cannot see that soon he will bow in disgrace.

‘Such a little orange sambo, this eight-year-old child
In the form of an old man with many fake toys.
Superficial connections work out as best friends.
How important decisions are made all depends
On how much adulation the ego enjoys
In the heat of the moment. Often, they’re reviled.

Yes, I’ll mock your behavior. I’ll put your ass down!
That is, if that is possible. You May Be There
At the pit of a black hole with inverse effect,
Pushing everything outward. With all disrespect,
I will cheer in this new year when you are laid bare.
Your recalcitrant flock will see that you’re a clown.

Animated Suspension )Versus Vice Versa(

Existence Between States

Suspended Animation, as most of us know,
Is a state where activity comes to a halt
Or is made to creep slowly, as if by some force
Totally supernatural. What is the source
Of this lame definition? Indeed, who’s at fault?
There’s a whole lot more to this, as I will now show.

One must first find the inverse. Though non sequitur
In its mirror reflection, trust that it makes sense
As a logical theory, just as is with math.
Seeing from this perspective is surely the path
To cosmic understanding and wisdom immense.
Both worlds are parts of one so that growth may occur.

We’re Suspended in life here and Animated
In a way that is cumbersome. Bodies are weak.
But when we move to Spirit, Suspension must cease.
We’re no longer in motion. The Spirit knows peace.
Animation, in Spirit, is much too oblique
For our flesh minds to fathom because they’re flesh fed.

Animated Suspension is that other state
Where we are when we leave here – this thing we call earth.
We’re Suspended from life here to Animate there
With an infinite freedom and life without care
‘Til it comes time we’re moved to consider rebirth.
Neither world is the better. In both we create.

Reaching Agreements

Consentual Achievement

Talk to people and people will talk back to you.
It’s a good time for travelling both near and far
Seeking out other earth trekkers and touching base.
What may have been a problem becomes a closed case.
What has not been discussed will remain a tough scar.
Healthy communication helps me breathe anew.

There exists a transaction in every handshake.
A connection is made. Circuitry is complete
For the flow of God’s good grace and blessings galore
To the hearts of both parties. Who knows what’s in store
If I neglect the hookup… other than defeat?
Should business be electric? It’s all that I make.

Time enough becomes plenty for mental pursuits,
Catching up on life’s details and making contacts
That may become productive in myriad ways.
I’ll negotiate mindfully. That always pays.
I can’t let opportunity seep through the cracks.
I must exercise all of my best attributes.

Commercial Affairs

Group Approval

Analyzing of finances is to cash flow
As breathing is to good health so that we may thrive.
Commerce is interaction with those of like mind.
Business equals good exercise when it’s resigned
To a meaningful purpose to keep it alive.
Product comes from good planning; therefore it is slow.

Is that it in a nutshell? Quite hardly the case
Would it be for behavior not to be complex.
What I’d like is some insight to sort through my mess.
I’ve a knack for neglecting, with shame I confess.
Give me guidance toward wisdom in all due respects.
Let my whole soul be filled with your cosmic embrace.

…Time to turn my attention to physical things
That I must make of value. My mental pursuits
Need to be sharply focused on earning my keep.
Information gained sensually isn’t cheap.
All good work does, in time, bear significant fruits
Like the ones that the Spirit most graciously brings.

A Dominant Personality

Power of the Feminine

I am good… not the greatest. I want to be fair.
I consider my assets worth standing up for.
Who can do that for me but the me that I am?
Energy and ambition outline my program.
Having conquered one mountain, I could go for more.
I am cute but ferocious as any ma bear.

Some would say I’m assertive… others, perhaps worse.
Life has made me a warrior noble of cause.
Many varied impressions upon folk I make.
What they all have in common is that I don’t brake
Under maximum pressure. I seek no applause.
I do challenge fearlessly all that is perverse.

It’s my time for adventure beyond the wild west.
History craves return on investment of pain.
I respect my vitality. Freedom is mine.
Though I can be combative, it is by design
That we all become mindful of what we may gain.
Change is on the horizon. Will it be our Test?

Trollfactory Bulb

Toxic Awareness

Fake spam comments from Russia a half a mile long
Are the only ones I get. At least I exist.
Yet you need not enlighten me. My sense of smell
Keeps me mindful of danger. Though you may excel
At controlling behavior, your work is dismissed
As a dark and faint echo of having done wrong.

At least write in plain English. Cyrillic I don’t know.
It looks too much like hogwash imbedded with spew
Of the coldest resentment the heart can withstand.
You can speak with my accent. I know that you can
Act as if you’re the best friend that I ever knew.
I became keen to your sickness some time ago.

I once worked at a factory. Dog food they made.
I lasted ‘til near lunchtime. The smell made me sick.
I don’t feed my dog dog food. I know better now
How people out gross animals. I made a vow
To trust in the olfactory. Smell is the trick
To discerning the fear bear. I am not afraid.

You’ve invented the troll farm. We know that by now.
Trolls are lowly paid workers who work with no light.
They can see what they’re doing by watching we fools
As we flail about aimlessly with broken rules.
What I offer to all is my deepest insight
For what it may be worth and what you may allow.

Negative Conclusions

Awaiting the Verdict

Learn To Cry! Your prescription disqualifies me
From the positive outlook evasive to some.
Is my vision distorted? Do you know the cause?
Can the clue to what is now be found in what was?
Stick a dick in my sick mind. See if you will cum.
Fear and doubt plague the present. How can I be free?

Try to find some compassion? Untether my heart
From the grief, pain and sorrow to others I’ve caused
In my fight to be righteous in my twisted ways.
Give me hope for the future. Bullshit me with praise.
Seeking outside connection, true progress is paused.
If I must go on living, I need a new start.

My conclusions are baseless while dwelling within
This homemade dissolution I may well deserve.
Hopelessness is an option. I need but one more.
May my life provide many that I can explore?
Negativity teaches, if I have the nerve,
To prepare for its lesson then let it begin.

Attractive Differences

Outstanding Feminine

Sparkling fresh and unusual changes occur
In my everyday manner. Clearly I stand out
Like pure life among statues – metallic in ways
That my heart cannot fathom. What change can they praise?
A romantic adventure would without a doubt
Be enhanced with excitement as I would prefer.

Life is fine, and disruptions are welcome today.
They look like opportunities to take a chance
In believing the universe honors my back.
Positive are the outcomes when I’m knocked off track.
To be drowned in self-pity or maintain my stance
Is a simple decision. I feel I’m at play.

 Differences Attractive defy circumstance
Of belligerent nature. I need to let go
Of all that which is stale from incessant non-use.
I alone am the jailer who can set me loose.
I relate to ex-prisoners, as we all know
How complacent captivity holds us in trance.

Intermediate Frequency

Vintage Eternity

All behavior is cyclic. Each has its own phase
Of a sequence of actions that has to repeat.
Each one has its own wavelength for getting things done.
As one thing is completed the next is begun.
Cycles do mix together in manner discrete.
All can act as a carrier in many ways.

Upon signal detection I’ve ended up here
In a world made of matter with message and means
To broadcast in fidelity all that I’ve learned
From dimensions beyond this one. I am concerned
That my most errant cycles are locked in my genes.
Is it safer in heaven where there is no fear?

We are all the same signal. Our wavelengths combine
To form one complex beacon in infinite space.
All continuous segments of organized time
Abhor demodulation. Is this not sublime?
As my cycle completes I’ll return to that place
From where all is transmitted and all is divine.

More Arguments

Face Wars

Legal Ordnance doth fly as the Eagle must try
Like the dickens to get its discomfort across.
Unexpected encounters of the social kind
Take on added significance. Some are inclined
To blame their instability on the coin’s toss
Or the acts of ‘the other’ as laws may apply.

We’ve become quite the coin, now, of binary face.
We’re of primary color yet shy just a few
Of the ones deemed essential. The sight of the old
Only replays the nightmare. I am self-controlled.
I’ve become too complacent in that which is true
Yet I feel the commitment to argue my case.

Arguments and Agreements, because they compare
To most basic dichotomies, share the same core
Which, in essence, is freedom from stagnant discourse.
Language should be alternative to using force.
Having played in the crossfire, should I want for more?
It makes sense to speak softly and to be aware.

Minding Mindfulness

Magnificent Mental

Magic and Mental Energy work hand in hand.
They’re made of the same stuff as enchanted stardust.
Mind molds both into meaning with purpose and plan.
Problems are made for solving the best that I can.
This keen mind is a fine tool I know I can trust.
Throughout all of existence there’s nothing as grand.

Speaking somewhat directly gets me to the point
In a well enough fashion when I am at ease
Yet when passion ignites that which flows through my heart
Everyone in my presence perceives me as smart.
Give me room to be brilliant. I’m not hard to please.
Mind is meaningful magic ordained to anoint.

Confidence is my ally. New starts are a gift
From the infinite cosmos to my open mind.
I shall make tough decisions and get my work done.
All the while, I have learned, I should integrate fun.
It’s of utmost import that I learn to be kind.
What I want to know mostly is how to uplift.

Unstinting Effort

Ultimate FeminineTriumph

It’s a labor not lacking in strength of tough love
Pre-administered righteously with a skilled hand,
Intellect made of crystal and heart of pure gold.
She’s a force to be respected and to behold.
Could my pride take a beating under her command?
I have felt woman’s power. It Is From Above.

In deliberate effort and centered in grace
At the base of her breathing, she leads with her soul.
Her most noble decisions are made to adapt
To changing situations – such as have entrapped
Those of aberrant character. Her only goal
Is to prepare the space for parties to embrace.

Could I learn more of discipline if I gave birth?
The answer, nonexistent, still begs it be sought
Through the depths of my consciousness. Peace does it bring
When the truth I consider can make my heart sing.
My evolving male ego need not to be fraught
By the rise of the feminine and a new earth.

Speaking And Listening

Need To Be Heard

Clear communication is a goal I may reach
With the folks I’m around in my daily routine.
People sound off profusely, but not much is heard.
I am one who once thought that speaking was absurd
Until I was coerced by the social machine
To come into my humanhood fettered with speech.

I recall how soft spoken and timid I was.
My first words were a stutter yet standard in form.
Then there came learning language and testing how much
I could absorb the techniques, aesthetics and such.
I was told I was troublesome… Not of the norm.
People think that all children should obey all laws.

I now often speak loudly… At times with some force
As I sense competition is part of the mix.
So, on goes the adventure. To Listen is then
Something I must learn also. Never has there been
Such a time as the present to learn some new tricks.
Had I stayed autistic, there’d have been no remorse.

On Embracing The Change

United In Transformation

Eclipses can be good things but rough to get through.
When most light becomes darkness much more than a while
I can know it will pass as all hellish things do.
May I look far beyond it and embrace the new?
I’ll stand up to the ruggedness not with a smile
But a mindset restructured to new points of view.

Doomed to become historic, this time has its place
Among cyclic phenomena. All moments must
Come to profound significance if I want growth.
Between now and what’s possible I can’t choose both.
I must make my decision infused with the trust
That this cosmos of consciousness bathes me in grace.

The upcoming conjunction of soul, heart and mind
Is a meeting of powers who are made of me.
Jupiter and Uranus shall usher insight
Of an expansive nature. Things do turn out right.
Letting go of what is now… Can this set me free?
I claim choice in the answer. I am that resigned.

Toughening Up

The Battle In Life

Living is a big battle upon the game board.
I have not a complaint. Fighting is exercise
And I’m in the best shape that I’ve been in in years.
I have learned to be tough and to fight away tears.
Living is without quality, and therein lies
My surprising ability with shield and sword.

Take you chance. I am ready. I’ll chop your head off
With a laser-like swiftness and focus direct.
There’s the chance I’ll be wounded. I don’t give a damn!
I’m prepared for the battle. That Is Who I Am.
I will work like a bastard to gain due respect.
Those who beg for my wrath are the fools who now scoff.

I’m a master of tough talk, yet as life draws near
To the time of my judgment, this war that I fight
Feels more like an amusement – one played just for fun.
I shall honor the drive, but the fight I will shun.
If I don’t know I’ve won, then I’ll know I’ve done right
By the spirit within me who knows not of fear.

Toy Surprise

Anticipated Excitement

Should I wait ‘til sunrise for my big Toy Surprise?
I could do breakfast now while erupting in bed.
No one else needs to join me. From in my small room
I can text who I want to to postpone the gloom
That would otherwise show me that I am mislead.
If I have to be friendly, then can I be wise?

It began with the boomers – those crafted amid
Times of rectification of their perceived wrongs.
They invented invention, then put it on stage.
Those who followed have carried us to a new age.
A deep inherent restlessness clearly belongs
In the process evolving as it always did.

Wherein lies the excitement? Within the device?
That seems somewhat perverted, yet it matters nil.
Such may be said of my complicated machine.
Had I contact with others, I wouldn’t be mean.
Do the toys that I play with rob me of free will?
Need I have them to know if I’m naughty or nice?

My Existence Makes Sense

Affirmation

My Existence Makes Sense, and there’s life to commence.
I do feel much more childlike as seasons march by.
I see such an adult world when I look outside.
I’m afraid to go out there. In here is my pride,
Where my sense of the strangeness I may simplify.
If I feel disconnected, I’ll call it suspense.

Sensing feeling is mutual, well I reflect
That which I am a part of. What love can I know?
Is it why I’m not listened to? Am I too mean?
Living life like a woman, I’ve become obscene?
Have I screwed up completely with nowhere to go?
Had I acted more manly, had I known respect?

 What makes sense is of import to living that out
In a way that feels wholesome and absent of fear.
If I feel like a channel of wisdom and light,
For all intents and purposes, I’ll do alright.
Any sense that I make here at least is sincere.
I’m of value to this world. I have not a doubt.

A Wonderful Day

Peace

It’s A Wonderful Day! Did Christ make it this way?
Let’s not screw with a damp dream and give it due cause
To condense into quibble. Whose story is true?
If it matters to God, all the killing we do
Goes against what was preached about. So are the laws
As the Lawmaker gave them, or has there been play?

It’s still such a big mystery shrouded in doubt
Which precisely plays into the function of faith
Just as modern day drama dissolves into dream.
History will record things only as they seem
To those living in this time. Real news becomes wraith.
Human nature precludes seeing truth as devout.

So, we’re left with the mystery and with the choice
Of blind faith in vague dogma by threat of demise
Of the soul God created and loved? This makes sense…
…To a god who’s demonic! We seem awfully dense.
Truth becomes complicated; therefore it is wise
To ignore all the bullshit and simply rejoice.

Don’t ask me what my faith is. It’s already known
By all essence with beingness etched in its soul.
So to ask is aggressive. It puts me on edge.
To no fellow observer do I yield my pledge
And therefore my God given right to self-control.
My belief in humanity is harshly shown.

Christmas God has invented. Enchanted in grace,
As this day becomes special, we know all can be.
Any day word becomes flesh, all flesh becomes one
And a season of enlightenment has begun.
God is good! That’s enough… If we all could agree.
Christmas brings folks together. That all can embrace.

Butt Science Asshology

Climate Fate

Climate science is one that has taken some heat.
Many pseudo sciences become the real thing
After years of persistence with none to oppose
What their goals and their premises are. In the throes
Of emergent world crises, what hope might they bring
That the butt holding office will soon see defeat?

The fine art of Asshology thus came about
When the need to decipher the demonic realm
Manifested in essence some three years ago
When we bent for a butt fucking, rock hard and slow.
To predict when perversion will reach overwhelm
Is the goal of Asshology without a doubt.

So the chart of the asshole one needs to construct.
Fairly gross a procedure, it’s fundamental
As a tool to make sense of the drama at play.
Wise folk eons before us could foresee this day.
Human actions are finite in time’s rationale.
We know well he who lives to Abuse and Obstruct.

Force Space

babel

Space Is First of the last of the final frontiers.
We are best to ‘Control the Ultimate High Ground.’
In defending our space junk, we must plan ahead

Making sure space weapons are strategically spread.
Once our force was a weak one, but we’ll be renowned.
Reinvention of Star Wars is how this appears.

We have space to make force with. Life functions because
There is space for action and reaction to be
Coexistent and interdependent. As such,
Space for Force speaks of strength, so it’s encouraged much.
This invites thoughts of Babel by spatial degree.
As we look toward the top, we return to what was.

‘As above, so below’ is an apt axiom,
A bit tainted though, in this inhuman regard.
We’ve made hell of earth’s surface, its water and air.
We are now seven billion, yet not enough care.
Space remains ever sacred and will not be marred
By a fool who thinks this tower should earn income.

There’s No Meeting Tomorrow

Treasurehouse of Hopes

I was told there’s not meeting. Should that be good news?
Or should there be disgruntlement and some concern
That we elder club members have lost interest
In why we’ve come together? I gave it my best
But my path leads elsewhere. I can let this adjourn
Until late in eternity. I’ve naught to lose.

Apathy blends with yuletide as dust infects air.
It needs freedom from stasis to acting in ways
That are Christmas Card Cordial. The garland of heart
Is the basis for recrafting the new year’s start.
We decide what is meaningful throughout our days.
That can change in a heartbeat and folks shouldn’t care.

I prepare for the meeting as duty dictates
How the heart of the soldier behaves at its best.
Am I here to take orders and march in a war?
If this army’s not for me, then am I done for?
I’ll return to the clubhouse perhaps as a guest.
Now the meeting is cancelled. What Freedom Awaits!

Erection Meddling

Intercollusion

When we hold our erections, we want none involved.
We abhor interference from forces outside
This place we call our own. Keep your hand far away.
If you can’t respect boundaries, at least obey
Your own sense of perversion? Why sully your pride?
You should get your subconscious, through Sigmund, resolved.

Our erections are sacred. We hold them freely.
It’s our right and an honored tradition. That’s why
Sex abuse is illegal throughout most the globe.
As your winged, peeping monkeys watch as we disrobe,
We would wish it’s good for you, but that you not try
To tell us that a hand job from you is our key.

I’m prepared for Erectionfest this time around.
The last time that we had one, a strange, foreign touch
Assaulted my excitement. My heat took a dive.
For the next, we’re enhanced with a stronger sex drive.
Once again, our erections we venerate much.
We now know where that hand is. Indeed it’s been found.

A Wishy Wash

Global Laundry Crisis

It’s a wash no one wishes on anyone’s world
When within one’s right mind there is nothing to see
But full drawers of clean laundry. Do Not take a breath
As the smell of this cleanliness may cause one’s death.
Citizens who of left mind just want to be free.
What has been convoluted must then be unfurled.

Many billions of children at play in their rooms
After many an eon have left earth a mess.
We are not home alone, as our mother is here
Yet our father is elsewhere, not meant to be near.
We’re hard pressed to invent him with any success
And the unending filthy wash cycle resumes.

As the traitor species, we’ve made ourselves awash
In our own filth and grime. But we are like the child
Who attends not to discipline. We’ve no concern
But for needs of the moment. What then can we learn?
And can our past activity be reconciled?
As we look at our laundry we’ll lose our panache.

Long Live The Queendom

Feminine Game

Women’s voices bear wisdom. That they should be heard
Without question or scrutiny just as are men
Is the issue evolved over eons of time.
Women do as most men do, but then it’s a crime.
We excel at technology but we must then
Take the leap toward enlightenment. It’s been deferred.

To be treated as children is not half the crime
Perpetrated on half of the human genome.
It’s a death blow to growth and an insult to be
Of the most sacred feminine. What we now see
Is the subtle emergence from fear back to home.
It’s a shame that this has taken such a long time.

Women tend to be steadfast, more one with the earth,
And less prone to snap judgements that are ego based.
We’re in great need of balance and meaningful change.
Only women provide that. How can this sound strange
Since our trust in the kingdom is clearly misplaced?
That which nature respects more is given more worth.

Praise, and Long Live The Queendom! She stands in the sea
With a blindfold and scales and a message of love
To oppressed, huddled masses… indeed, to us all.
In this garden of Eden, the only great fall
Is man’s satanic fantasy. Yet far above
What’s been kept underfoot is the will to get free.

Worst Case Scenarios

Agony of National Fever

What if our choice becomes ill and Trump wins again?
Incomplete multi-whammies are par for the course
As the hot flaming golf carts careen in the blind.
Who can’t see We The People are through being kind?
It would provide due justice to see some remorse
In the small group of dastardly, arrogant men.

Yet, would that be the worst case? We could burn in hell
By executive edict for due disrespect.
A scorched land of slave owners and slaves we could be.
Brutal force would be used. People would disagree.
More like animals we’ll be with tribe to protect.
Civil war will destroy us before we get well.

The spectra of scenarios given the gut
From the mind boiling over with deep discontent
Is the illness that ails every breath of cool air.
How much longer will I know but rabid despair?
Using Christ as the tool to bring on our descent
Is the nature of why we are in this sick rut.

Made Afraid In America

Looming Disaster

To be Made In America is to believe
In one nation united with justice for all.
Is it too high an ideal for me to achieve
With my brothers and sisters who hopelessly grieve?
Can the statute of liberty survive its fall?
We are made not by ourselves. Let’s not be naïve.

Consciousness is the Wild West of human concern.
It’s been made a commodity. Nations partake
In intelligence warfare to program the mind
To behave in such ways that are much more aligned
With their sinister interests. Should we come awake,
We’ll have overcome fallout and nuclear burn.

I remember Chernobyl, the horrid mishap
That they tried to keep hidden. But word got around.
We’re within the first half-life of something much worse.
The decay of the human soul completes the curse
Cast upon us. But maybe new hope can be found
As we discern the enemy’s will to entrap.

Toward The Latter Day Thaterday

Time And Innocence

I would call this day that day were it not today.
If I knew not the names of the days of the week,
I’d be free as the daylight. Times savings, for me,
Is to strict an absurdity. If I could see
Why daylight requires saving, would I be unique?
I know no one who knows why… just what others say.

And what they say is nonsense. Commerce is the cause
For the shifting of daytime so people spend more?
Now, two thirds of the year we live in fantasy
Somewhat anchored in nature and reality.
Between daylight and nighttime evolves civil war.
I’ve become too accustomed to knowing what was.

I’ll look forward to Thaterday. Should it arrive
In one third of a sudden, would it be too soon?
Daylight borrowed at no interest is obscene.
If we trick mother nature, we can’t call her mean.
Thaterday, once invented, no one will impugn.
We shall treat time with honor, as if we were five.

Specific Non-Locations

Nebulous Space

Where Am I, Since I know very well that I am
And don’t mind what I’m made of? It’s just good to grow.
This haystack of a cosmos, to needles like me,
Is too much to imagine… that is, completely.
I’ve heard tell of a ‘pale blue dot’ from a fellow
With a heart born of wisdom. But who gives a damn.

If I wanted someone from a galaxy far
To come visit my world, to direct that one would
Present me with a problem. I know not where I
Am located. Such ignorance can make one shy.
Could a wise postal physicist do me some good
In addressing where I am, or is this bizarre?

Non-Locations Specific are scattered throughout
The complex of the cosmos. Our travel is done
By the means of vibration and focus of mind.
Dimensions of existence to which we’re assigned
Provide lessons for living. Sometimes they are fun.
I’m within an earth schoolhouse. Of this there’s no doubt.

Metamorphic McMagnet

Narcotic Nostalgia

Seems the AC’s and DC’s are at it again
Like a scene at McDonalds among dueling fries.
It was back in the old days when burgers were best.
Feeding fast food to congress would be the best test
Of intestinal fortitude and compromise
For a body of divided women and men.

There’s a magnetization that has taken place.
It’s called ‘polarization’ to those in the field
Of magnetic alignment to one of the two
Choices possible, maintaining one’s narrow view.
When there’s been enough outrage, perhaps truth will yield
A safe space for deep healing and ultimate grace.

That which soon will degauss us cannot come through men
Nor through whites nor rich old folk detached and aloof.
It will come with our women, the young and nonwhite.
We The People are varied. We each bear the right
To full representation. We are junk food proof.
May we cherish our digestive health once again.

Spectral Shades Of God’s Darker Thoughts

Surreality

When God Thinks, life is born, and all good things take place.
Would one think that divine thoughts are lame like our own?
No! They’re complex and powerful. They’ve become real.
Our thoughts, when we direct them, can get us to feel.
But the thoughts of a deity make flesh and bone
And endow them with nature’s protection and grace.

So, how come there are good and bad ‘thoughts’ that exist
In the mind of a being who is only good?
One would think that omnipotence knows not of bad
Nor would want to create such a hell, I might add.
Boredom is then established though not understood
By the soul of creation that is not as blissed.

Oneself Blessed into Boredom could Be the Big Bang
If no other selves offer to make themselves known.
I would call mine a good self if I were but one
And the only one being. I’d then create fun.
Could I not see how I’d become wayward thought prone?
From one simple good thought the whole universe sprang.

We’ve control of our thinking, thinking we belong
To the set of all thoughts that God will entertain
Throughout all of existence and unfathomed time.
How to return to good thoughts from mayhem and crime
Therefore can be pursued with the hope of some gain.
Perhaps, reaching that point, we’ll have transcended wrong.

The Yuletide In Magic

Well Is All

The best songs about Christmas were written by Jews.
No one needs to ‘go figure;’ it makes perfect sense.
Christmas transcends religion and ways to know God.
Human ways of expressing God’s love may seem odd.
There’s a Yuletide In Magic. It ushers from whence
The whole heart of humanity yearns for good news.

When the mention of sleigh bells sets off a cascade
Of the most blessed memories one can recall,
‘All Is Well’ is the feeling. Through this dark of night
May we find what connects us. Please give us that sight.
Is it wise that we worship the hot bar room brawl
All the time except this time because we’re afraid?

There’s abundance of Magic throughout all our lives.
If I stop for a moment to sound the Yuletide,
There’s an increase in goodwill toward all humankind.
I can hear return echoes ring throughout my mind.
The profoundness of Christmas we all share with pride
For it’s in our belonging that our race survives.

Living Energy Canvas

Colorful Life

Become One with The Artist Who Paints with Pure Light!
What we’re made of, divinity uses freely.
And with each vibrant brush stroke, omnipotence spreads
Like an energy virus. In mystical threads
A grand cosmos is woven that all life may be
Consummate of its majesty. It’s only right.

Often fresh on the Canvas, the colors of love
Can be seen in their essence in rich puppy shades
Mixed with laughter of children and rarified air.
Is it worth pursuing living life without care?
If I don’t care, is that why my part masquerades
As the one of the Master who works from above?

We are made of the substance God uses to speak.
Since we know this is so, why we need to express
What is heartfelt within us is no mystery.
We become the same image as that which we see.
May our sight be benevolent and may God bless
All that is now created through divine mystique.

Progress, Not Perfection

Time On Display

When to settle for Progress and not Perfection
Is no matter to make of enormous import.

Perfection is an ideal. It stands on its own.
Progress leads to Perfection sometimes, it is shown,
But the groaning, as time passes, tends to distort
Much of life through the process. This isn’t much fun.

Perfection is the Finish – when things will get done.
So it means that some time is supposed to transpire.
It’s one thing to sit waiting. Yet that’s not enough,
The damned Progress that’s shown me is of fecal stuff.
The Operating System indeed is a liar.
It updates frequently but with data half spun.

How come one moment I’m told that two hours remain
Then the next, it’s increased an enormous degree?
If it’s not good at simple math, I can relate
But to make it my day job would mess with my fate.
Software mimics our leaders quite accurately.
Anything offered to us we take with a grain.

Don’t rely on The System to offer it all.
That a piece of the puzzle sometimes falls in place
Can be seen as a blessing. Imperfect are we
So much so that the things that we make must agree.
 One profound micro mirror could reflect our grace.
Even though we’re not perfect, we tend to stand tall.

United In Fever

Conflagration

To build up to a Fever it doesn’t take much…
Just a call to be human. No problem. That’s done.
Where’s the next entertainment as drama unfolds?
We pretend we know not of what our future holds.
Through the heat, to a new day, what now has begun
Is the reaching for justice. It’s now within touch.

But while in such a Fever of heightened degree
Due to blatant misconduct and unbridled greed,
Mayhem can be expected. Delirium speaks
In a manner most violent. It lasts for weeks.
For the top down is planted the virulent seed
That the roots of humanity feel they are free.

We’re United In Fever as one human race
Though divided we are in which sides we embrace
And the fact that there are sides is something of note.
Leadership that is side-less is the antidote
For the Fever that ails us. So red in the face
Is the view that is offered until there comes grace.

Simulation

Dual Reality

To each person this world is a Simulation.
Altogether they make up one reality.
Most finite in its realness, it structures the mind
To think that it’s of essence and clearly designed
By one other than oneself. This isn’t to be.
We don’t really exist here. Nothing has been done.

We each create our own Simulation before
It’s combined with the six billion running right now.
It is done as a lesson to learn to behave
And make sense of our feelings and how they enslave
As we make the best of them, then manage somehow
To return to the infinite being much more.

Arrogant is the judgment of anyone’s worth
In this live Simulation. Free will is ours all.
We must act as if people here really are here
And do honor fully what they truly hold dear
Lest the whole Simulation become our downfall.
Our becoming a part of it begins at birth.

Ha Mun Of Tu Tank

Levity

The Ha Mun of Tu Tank would have no one to thank
For not being left tankless upon his demise
Were it not for his subjects, firm in their belief
That a king should be tankful and free of all grief
That he might not have at least two tanks when he dies.
When we speak of this old one, we need to be frank.

If an army has two tanks instead of just one,
One can know that it’s better, for double the strength
It will have for offending and for its defense.
The good diver with two tanks uses common sense.
That’s why old kings of Egypt went to any length
To ensure tanks were plentiful instead of none.

So, Ha Mun was of Tu Tank and could have had three
But he wouldn’t be greedy, for that would imply
That he could take them with him into the beyond.
With the contents of tanks not a soul can abscond.
We can see that the number of tanks we deny
Is the key to contentment and freedom to be.

The Most Elegant Muscle

The Fractal Nature of Biological Process

With its fractal-like structure, the iris compares
To a doughnut of fluid suspended freely
Of its own subtle substance. This muscle of grace
Is a wonderous marvel as much as deep space.
It’s a keen work of art, and it helps us to see.
We make use of it constantly in all affairs.

Why the iris has color and complex design
Is a thing known to something much larger than we.
So we can only wonder. As we speculate
Perhaps that would seduce us from feeding our hate
While it prepares a space where we all can agree
That survival depends on our being benign.

The iris is constructed to limit the light
That can enter the orbit. Too much light will cause
It to grow tense and full. But too little light will
Make for full relaxation. Its nerve is made still.
We can honor the elegant iris because
It’s a blessing to those of aberrant insight.