If your body falters, and a kidney you must lose (I pray it doesn’t but if it does) open me up, open me up, let mine take its place.

I said it before everything I have is yours even my organs. With open arms I freely give all of me. So if it’s a kidney I am a perfect match it’s yours to receive. Open me up, open me up, let mine take its place.

Why does it take so long

To realize the simplest things

That we own are fun for

Other people?....

Hidden away in our treasure

Chest...

...A joke...

A song...

A cryptic verse...

A facial contortion...

A tawdry limerick...

A smile that warms a chilly day...

There are people

Starving like baby

Birds in Indonesia,

But there are also people

Starving right outside your back door...

Hurting to be seen...

Yearning just to care...

The mechanized world hastens

Every New Year

To silence the outpourings

Of the human heart,

But everyone,

Whether society tells us or not

Holds the key

To unlock another person's

Treasure chest

By showing that you're

A good listener,

And cracking wide your soul...

Ah, such a fragrant place

For a new sapling to grow!...

5/2/24

Bunny Villaire

Not an object but a concept,

Only existing because its concieved

The alternative to something

Hipocritical fundementally.

If not for our ideas of it

Nothing would never be,

Gone yet actualized so ironically.

dig my nails

into my arm

drag them down slowly

peeling behind their trails

strips of blank

yellowed gray

faded, faded

and pouring red

all i feel is

raw linoleum

broken wire,

barbed,

but ineffective

they still get through it

or cut it clean

following broken dreams,

turning to nightmares, . . .

. . empty streets

but for the homeless,

mentally weirded out,

people

with no where to go,

followed by rows,

and rows of moving

cars

heading nowheres

cracked asphalt,

crooked poles,

splintered,

no paint,

. . . just raw,

sun bleached,

sun baked,

dried out,

dead,

wood,

bearing sagging,

ragged,

spliced wire,

centuries old,

carrying voltages

at the speed of light,

ready to break,

bound to tear,

at the next

ground shake

beneath them

them,

the rubber soled feet,

the street feet

the bare,

bruised,

soiled,

battered,

abused feet,

of some humans,

with no cars

. . . the sun darkened,

a few days ago

hidden by our moon

made a cross

at a special intersection

across our America,

. . . seems like an ubiquitous

world event,

to the naked eye,

'cause

it seems,

seemingly,

nothing happened

/but it did, . .

. . . the spiritual denizens

of that realm

will tell you

it did,

/if you open your ears

and tune your soul

in with it,

it did,

just wait

for the delayed outcomes/

seems nothing happened

but it did,

in that unseen reality

/more to come in a few days

more rumbling

more shaking

intensifying . . .

people go

to and fro . . .

now,

i look past a clear vision,

now,

of all things,

it comes

out of the blue,

. .'. a hummingbird,

in what seems,

a stationary, oxymoronic flight,

that is,

suspended,

its wings beating

at 600 cycles per second,

at the divine,

flowering head

of its mother plant

the sight,

the phenomenon,

inexplicably,

impossible to define

my eyes,

are subconsciously attuned now,

they dreamily flow to another,

magnificent field,

its close proximity of sight

blurs to the distance

by involuntary muscles

brain and mind,

leading to,

a portal's entrance

unto infinity,

to that of close

proximity's future,

our short lifespan,

though hazy, . . .

it is like looking through

a smoky mirror, . . .

. . i see many teetering

and falling,

some rise

some for to never again

rise,

but fall for eternity,

treachery

their own chosen doom, . . .

/the eclipse,

it's effects

are not over/

i see they followed the wrong roads

that led to destruction,

hurting their,

unawares,

innocent,

fellow humans

y' know, , . .

why of course,

y' know,

since the annals

of recorded

and beginning

unrecorded time, . . .

greed,

lust for,

unearned riches,

thefts,

grafts,

lies,

things that kill the soul,

ever of the possessor,

y' see

with me,

through the mirror

of the now,

see clearly,

feel,

a new dawning

one that culminates

with many red sea

moments

globally,

many cries of pain,

many of joy,

but for those that crossed over

the tide of warnings

and heeded the mighty

biblical word of God,

written for all mankind,

still here,

still available,

so's Jesus

go to him now

he calls you

you shouldn't refuse,

that,

the crooked will be made straight

the portals will open

those of heaven,

not for the the likes

of those of Cern

demonic machine,

looking for God particles

finding instead,

anarchistic

luciferian dimensions,

. . . but of the likes of,

for the likes of,

your Lord,

yes,

your creator,

his love for you,

magnificent,

his kingdom come,

on earth,

as it is

in heaven

yes,

in our lifetime,

we will see,

between now

and november,

earth shaking

supernatural events

that will wake up

the woke

and make satan's kingdom

tremble

my frenzied mad mad world

yellow lunatic type splashes

wow type creatures all around me

stuck at phallus while pronouncing philatelic

boom boom

so

there is a door i will venture in tomorrow

faces and faces

storied faces

i will greet them

they will greet me

beautiful beautiful exchanges

there will be rivers of liquor as promised in paradise

there will be rivers of ink through which we know of paradisiacal promises

then

then what

what will it be when ink and liquor convulge

the poet replenishes in blood

the painter paints canvases unbound of blood

of napoleon invading god knows what

streets being bloodied in medieval europe

but they forget

alas they forget

they forget the magic of other elixirs

tonics

such tonics which serve the unarmed warrior

while he is cushioned in the solitude of his miserable nook

it is this tonic

callous routy kegs of beer

callous fountain pens with bent nibs

sometimes worse

nights and nights

long nights passing onto months

it is not the bullet taken

not the bullet shot

nor the distant journey taken onto war

but it is this convulgance of fountainy happiness

that takes men to know other men

brothers karamazov or the big rape

they still teach

those moods onto months onto years still teach

not the bullet shot

the baby crippled

her pregnant tummy routed

gaza wont teach

graveyards do

but to another sullied generation

maybe another sullied world

worlds

St Stu Stu shut the duck up get the fuck out scream SCREAM SCREAMMM SO LONG AS ITS OUT LOUD.

COMMUNICATION a common place when people understand each other, and where the fuck am I

I'm bothered by falling off my mental wagon.

Fuck don't let this happen again

Please don't be part of it. The thing that looks over my life as a harsh side effect of the malpractices non consensual oophorectomy.

Somewhere subtly I see the lines blurring. My brain whirring and clatter clunking along, with cease it's putting and I'm left walking like a zombie desolate and alone

For all I've lost I thought my mind would be the last

Thing I had but I see this loss is far more bad than id like to know and see what it means to

Me is I may be gone before I go.

Drug out real slow.

CC z