Archive | December 2019

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 no 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.

Why The Devil May Care

Dirty Deal

I know not of the devil. If such knows of me,
Then I’m not me. Someone else possesses that soul.
We would swear that the devil’s delight in despair
Can’t effect a good outcome. We then should beware
Of the red-handed handshake lest we lose control
Of our spirit, and therefore our life’s destiny.

Are some friends with the devil? Odd creatures are they
Who can bypass the probable all in good fun.
God bless those who, in conscience, can cast to the wind
Any notion suggesting that they may have sinned.
We’d wish only and quickly that justice be done
So that those who aren’t friendly can go on their way.

Why The Devil Should Care is the question to ask
Oneself if there’s a hint of a doubt in one’s deeds.
Devils don’t deal in caring. They speak in bold lies.
That they are our top leaders is no big surprise.
What the devil cares mostly about are his needs
And to get them fulfilled is one hell of a task.

World Water

TheMagicRealist.com

Treated like a commodity water becomes
Something taken for granted while fearing its loss.
Water can’t disappear. What the earth contains now
Is the same that it always had. But to allow
It to be where it’s needed, we must come across
Better means of surviving than twiddling our thumbs.

This is no call to action. It’s practicing verse.
My thumbs each know the space bar and take equal turns.
We are made much of water. Life water contains.
Water can flow through earth as the blood flows through veins.
May we find a solution? Our survival yearns
For consensus of consciousness of our own curse.

Rivers are fed by glaciers and forests, we know.
There are no other sources. The glaciers recede
Because of global warming. That’s still a debate
Rather than an alarm bell we can’t obfuscate.
Most the forests are gone much due to human greed.
To bring back our world water, we must let life grow.

Dissolve The Resistance

Heat Stress

Full force of Total Current a circuit may use
If it puts up resistance at integral points.
So, there are many voltage drops. This works out fine
Just as long as the circuit is of good design.
If it’s not, it’s the reason the hot flame anoints
The resistive component. This isn’t good news.

We must have some resistance to balance our loads.
It gives life vital structure so it flows with ease.
Too much of it… then current will come to a halt.
The big voltage drop becomes the resistor’s fault
Even if that’s not how the whole circuitry sees
As it’s measured in each of its most feeling nodes.

Don’t resist the unwanted. It does not exist.
Only in the subconscious, which knows nothing more
Than whatever it’s told, does creation take place.
Matter tends to resist any movement of grace.
Voltage felt in our feelings we cannot ignore
And the health of our circuitry can’t be dismissed.

We believe that in poverty, sickness and death
We must toil through our time here. But this isn’t so.
We were meant for abundance and living in peace.
This can come about only through total release
From investment in effort and subsequent woe.
One must know one is worthy with each living breath.

Troubled Towers And Walls

Nursery Grime

Were you born ‘Trumpelstiltskin’ you wouldn’t have been
So well-known by the name – more so by your ill deeds.
You would not have been overheard by the Queen’s men.
Her poor father, the miller, would yet sin again.
To turn straw into gold, one begins with gold seeds.
Will your own miller’s daughter be sent to the pen?

Will you scramble and fry well before the great fall
As your towers magnificent melt like the ice
In the warming earth climate your fool mind denies?
I do find entertainment in your self-demise.
If you do make it through this, perhaps you’ll think twice
About playing a big game when you are so small.

Build That Wall and sit on it! Your fall is in sight.
It’s a long time in coming. The death that I felt
On the night I was gangraped comes full circle now.
Hindsight is but a luxury all can allow.
How do you feel about this trump card you’ve been dealt?
May your fairytale end as our future grows bright.

TidyHoe

Marketing Field

Does one keep the hoe tidy when it’s not in use
In the dark, deranged desert beneath the full moon?
Can the crust of dirt gathered that can’t be knocked off
Be at least submersed silly? What cure do I scoff
Since my own virgin land is a cluttered sand dune?
I will stick the damned hoe in a bottle of juice!

TidyHoes can be made so soon after they’re done
With the business of making their marks on the fields
Of our human potentials by soaking them clean
In a solvent solution to place in a scene
Near a tall standing genie whose providence yields
The insurance that’s needed to brighten the sun.

Where is TidyHoe found? Can I order online?
Or perhaps there’s a big supply kept underground?
It’s produced in abundance in places unknown
Then it’s beamed to this sense forsaken Twilight Zone.
Due respect for the tidy can always be found
And sometimes when it’s given, life seems to align.