Bigger than anything

I may be--

as seemingly,

inconspicuous

A herald not

the same as

the sceptre of

Invisibility

Seen 'n heard but

unreachable--

the consequences

real yet fleeting

With backlashes

on either side

escaping out

from the crown

In the foliage

of silent noses

and red eyes,

Listening!

I am on the scent

I am on the scent

in the year

of the Rabbit.

2023 JAN 22

really means indivisible. Yes

you are made of cells. Yes

some of them are bacterial. No

you are not an ant, bee, or parasite. No

biology is not a problem. We

are awesome

You are sapiens, aren't you?

Your brain is not static, not plastic

not contained in what you used to say

You are what you think, what you drink in

and pour over your every word. Every gesture

occurs under the light of your mind

Divine. Man is live-wired, capable of computing

mass amounts of data. What do we do

about questions/concerns? Ask

Not what you can do for country,

but what you can do for yourself

Find out how to operate infinity

Focus on your own capacity

be the solution you see

Life is a science fair

not a space race

Make progress

not change

Photo by Sangharsh Lohakare on Unsplash

#individualism #philosophy #life #liberty #pursuitofhappiness

She knew, as we all do, the power of words. We are taught from very young to think long before we speak. Though the young are spared the power as they are given time to learn to control their bodies and their minds, they, too, know from very young the care that must be taken with words.

And, thus, she knew that she had made a grave error.

She had been having such a lovely day in the field with her two young ones. The sun shown brightly and a warm breeze carried the scent of lavender. They had picked (and eaten) berries to make a pie and then flowers to put on the kitchen table. Their basket full, they lay in the grass, each beneath one of her arms, looking up at the clouds dotting the blue sky, naming the objects and creatures they saw.

They laughed as each description was more outrageous than the last. One of the young ones sighed and said, "I wish we could stay like this forever. "

She responded, "Me, too."

And there they remain, lost in a sliver of a moment in time, invisible to all but each other and the unchanging blue sky.

I’m the stain on your jacket sleeve

And I’m sorry I’m just telling you about that now see the thing is I was painting my nails and I had an itch and next thing you know dark green polish on that pristine white sleeve but I’m sorry and I tried to clean it off took bleach and remover and the dry cleaners and my mom and couldn’t get it off and I love that jacket more so that you gave it to me to wear and I love that feeling of now I kind of belong to someone and I’ve never loved that feeling before and I should’ve been more careful because then I had that evil creepy crawling thought that now you can’t give your jacket to a new girl and I think that’s just a secret way of saying please don’t leave me and

I think you love me because I was pretty confident you’d forgive me kiss my head while I reach high up on my tippy toes just to play with your hair and keep your arm around my shoulders so I won’t fall behind or get lost in the crowd or feel a chill or have a thought that I don’t get to share with you

Because I think my thoughts are prettier when I know I’ll tell them to you. Not in like a toxic compulsively honest I have to tell you my every thought but that when you ask me about my day it means my day was important and I never looked at them that way before

And now I get to wake up in the morning and hear your voice and sometimes you laugh at my jokes but not too often, you know? Like it doesn’t feel forced which I appreciate and sometimes I’m shocked that you like me because not to be shallow but boy you are really hot like objectively movie star beauty you’re hot but also you’re smart and it shocks me that you don’t think you are because you are and actually it’s a secret worry that you’ll leave because I’m not very smart and I’m sorry I won’t ever show you this poem it’s just my exes embarrassed me when I got too emotionally vulnerable and you’ve seen me cry and I don’t want to make the same mistake again but the thing that shocks me the most is that you keep staying

Like that stain. On your jacket sleeve.

a platonic bomb

exploding only

the fifth dimension

mushroom clouds

that erase outsides,

leave everything in.

ghosts bowl over

like lawn chairs;

they don't decide how

they sit with you.

cutting the blades

in alphabetical order,

para-neural activity

becomes an algebra.

time scatters through

Ys in a slubstep of sun

light, where the shadows

can't stop breakdancing.

Disassociation is a type of mind vacation when things are getting heavy and you got no preparation and the feeling of deflation is the usual provocation to put you in a station in another fucking nation things look like animation and you ponder your creation but you’re feeling no elation most times when you are facing the anti-jubilation of your own emancipation from the world in which you’re pacing in shoes which have no lacing and you know you’re losing races that you prolly should’ve won but someone shot the gun too quick looking like a dick cause they caught you fucking wasted but just because you’re pasted on this piece of paper and you feel like you’re a vapor after smoking with your neighbor and the labor is a sabre (tooth tiger) with a bite that’s full of Jager and you know you’re nothing major so you never try to wager too much on yourself cause you just keep your talents mostly to yourself all upon your shelf just like the Christmas elf who comes to steal your wealth when you are shaking and got nothing left and just wanna kill yourself.

But you don’t, because that was never the real Plan.

Life is

SO

Precious.

Moments turn into memories

& I am @ peace.

Feelings come & go like

seasons

& each season seems to become

Better.

Better than the last.

mediocrity paralyzes poets

routine is medicine, until it's not

until the fluorescents

kill the shadows in the grocery line

and you're alone with all the lies you tell

for a paycheck

i'd like to fall in love just to fall out of it

for a poem that might move someone, somewhere

so break my heart, please?

i'll rewrite you, resurrect you in blue ink

memorialize you in metaphor

and when the feeling returns to my fingertips

i'll write you a hundred stanzas

like a receipt for the romance

in exchange for which we sold our sanity

There once was an old man whose name was Dale

Hypocrite, liar, adulterous thief

soul blacker than black like the hounds of hell

Yes, he’s a giver, a giver of grief.

Dale is a person who doesn’t know love

He’s also a person who goes to church

He says he loves Jesus, Lord up above

says he has found him so call off the search

Everyone out there who dale doesn’t like

are a bitch and they’re trash going to hell

He missed his calling in Hitler’s Third Reich

Narcissist to the core, he is not well.

He came to a party I had at my house

My son turned three we had a water slide

Four hours late he arrived with his spouse

Neither would speak; eye contact they would hide

What he lacks in heart he makes up in nuts

he also brought his mistress- that takes guts.