In the arena of broken things
filled with emptiness and
disappointment lies helplessness
realized away gradually
like dust sweeping into receding waters
in silence
in shadows
the private something you've never known
in between all the layers
folded into a reflection
just stares and wonders
about nothing and everything
;
read as far as i can
sweet slightly ironic
steady decay
I stead fast
proper not teary eyed
limbs parallel
I thought I'd let you know.
.
morning rush intersecting with morning sun
white not gold
holy ghost
solar wind
blaring in
landscaped shadows in small clusters behind them
and jiggling mannequins a waiting van steel doors widened slightly
.
flowering nature
With beauty unsaid
hiding in shadows
then happiness replaced
again, to be sought
then in dreams slowly measured
to explain What I
feel
like all stories, it ends
.
Lover, faith or death
To the sea or other lake - like liquid bodies
feelings migrating from a series of curves
reaching into the beyond
pointing electrically
toward her
you, having been left with
nothing else.
Adrift
The case for a re-boot to start all over
Part 7
wanting to change vs. not wanting to change.
.
Bing Copilot: Of course! Here’s a Shakespearean-style rendition of the verse for your meal:
Upon the morrow's light, the roots do take their stage,
In the chamber's warmth, they meet — a healthful rage.
Carrots, orange as the dawn, and celery, green as thyme,
Tossed with turmeric's golden dust, a culinary rhyme.
Olive's oil, in misty form, doth lightly coat each piece,
A bard's touch to flavors bold, a feast to never cease.
So let this humble meal, in microwave's gentle care,
Become a dish of kings, a fare beyond compare.
For in each bite, a sonnet lies, a tale of health restored,
A merry dance of nutrients, by hungry souls adored.
So eat, and let thy body thank thee for the grace,
Of nature's bounty, richly served, in this, thy quiet place.
Enjoy your Shakespearean-inspired meal! 😊🎭🍽️
They were about that this is
carried on in quiet theory
like wet leaves reflecting awareness
brush strokes here and there
a conversation about ceiling clouds
taken down and turned around
a knot swollen in sadness
contemplation and realization
a sign of recovery
..
According to our most accurate model using
Schema Networks Aip 7.2
the first human made instrument sound
was played on a
thick branch hollowed by termites
The first human note ever produced
was, according to the latest reconstruction
( 4.340 xs) , at 434 Hz for a duration
of 7.2 seconds.
So, it seems i was right...again.
#
I have i had I never have i said
and backwards twice
with an i right in front of me
Hemorrhaging
my hands
dangle at the elbows
and i try
to fly lying down
*
past the thousand misty hills
i hear her
(hypnotized
in a devout circling stare)
"her legs were long as the devil's ----"
I asked them to please do it over
(with balance beam focus and dark energy)
"- A black marble goddess, sad and desolate..."
and all I got was this definition of rage
*
rolling swirls from the dream side of dawn
gently wash the moon's emotions
into a nostalgic painting
a trespass. a journey
his or her weather
that may all melt before it ever gets delivered.
.
.
surrender
To what's under a deeper dust
unneeding of a rub or polish
indescribable like
the evening of spiritual energies
unpredictable like the scanning of a text
altering the order of words.
the natural order of unqualified dividends
and life's secrets.
Truth be told, i'm just writing a memoir.
about someone writing a memoir
and sometimes were
on the same page
,-