Stories Yet to Come

What is true and what is false? They are a mirror in which each is reflected.
What is real is just as true and real? As the falsity of what is false.

Time past and time future ~~ are a mirrored window through which each man sees what he is.
Go, go, go, go, said the bird, for the leaves were full of children, hidden excitedly, containing laughter. And the table on the gravel, beneath its fat gourds, dropped its fruit to the ground, and we, its guests, found The fat swollen gourds had become red and juicy, and the fruit was bright and delicious to the eye.

Hear our story, then, the story of time past and time future. The story of all centuries since and the stories yet to come. About to fall upon us is the nettles, The nettles, with their soft white stems, there is in each stem a sharp blue spike, Comes upon its prey with a sudden point

And pierces the flesh as the teeth of the nettle Pierce the ribs of a potato. Here lies the rat, struggling, straining, dying, dying, fighting to rise up. A thousand small bites from the nettles have enveloped the flesh of his body, we will strip him, pull him, tear him open, eat him, cut him in half, make him into soup,
burp out his meat and eat.

But this is time past and time future a story of all the centuries since and the stories yet to come.

The nettles, with their soft white stems, their poisonous spikes, are an imposing gate; I walk around them, looking through the glazed surface. From within, the grass is dancing, the flowers are darting.

They change color in the sun, their faces are blue, they change color in the rain, their faces are red and full of color when the last glow of the sun is gone.

They love and the flowers love and the insects love.

I can hear the birds in the trees fly to the nettles and sing to them with beautiful songs so sweet and true and loving.

“Go,” said the bird, for the leaves were full of children, hidden excitedly, containing laughter.

“Go, go, go,” said the bird, for the leaves were full of children, hidden excitedly, containing laughter.

The wind came, snapped the nettles, ripped them up. The flowers shrieked, and they all came running, all the flowers, the flowers fled in all directions, they scattered like fire. The little girl came, singing with a smile on her face, chirping, babbling, gathering the scattered flowers.

Her face was blue in the sunlight, so was the flower face and her blue eyes looked at me and I followed her into the forest to find out all the greatest secrets of the universe.

:: 09.29.2022 ::


My Song of Love

This, my song of love, is my song of hate for the silent clock.

Are you wasting your time? Are you taking advantage of those around you?
Are you missing out?

Every moment is significant, every act a choice. Every instant infinitesimally different from every other moment. Every moment, one year, three decades, a lifetime, is a lifetime, where past and future coexist equally — irreconcilable as the present and the past.

You may not be able to change anything or anyone. However, with powerful and frightening power of your own self-awareness, you can change your attitude to life and make positive, productive changes to your life. The choice is yours to make.

They were dreaming of a blue sky, they were dreaming of a blue sky.

The air where I stood Is Harsh. It is nothing. The past that was in the air, the dead flowers, the bird’s innocent mind, the strange insects, has nothing to do with Me, I am not the soul in the air, I am something else, something else.

The swallow does not see me, I am simply a phenomenon.

Nothing. Brown skin, empty, cracked.

Love is the tragedy of this world, it is a curiouser power, a certain power, and from it comes, quite rare in the world. Though we have seen it enough to know, it comes as a seed of great suffering, it comes, sometimes, as a pheromone, an Eros, as an alchemy, a beautiful fragrance, as a Scarlet streak of the mind, from it comes, when I gaze at the leaves, seeds of despair and ecstasy.

The bones of the world are as the bones of Madonna. A nun is taller than a zebra. On a parochial level, we see, for a moment, the bones of the woman ~ our housekeeper who died of an illness. A wise mother sees the woman to whom her daughter speaks in sleep.

The answer is God and the monster who is and who has been but never will be is the master of our Soul.

A key within the locked palace of our Souls.

:: 09.29.2022 ::


Extinct Bipedal Hairy One

Say, well.
How changes change moods.
Give me four clove leaves| forgive PTA
forgive Homeowner’s Association yea.
They trim the bushes but leave the girls alone.

And my tongue dried pink on a sidewalk
left for pretty birds to pick today
how lonely is, how lonely was
the wordsmiths of yesterday.

Lady brain____ sail toward the West
for food for brains and raise the
laviathan of deep sea wonders
: people won’t know what it means
extinct bipedal hairy ones
always attract the lonely hearts.

Tight lips /eclipse of moon\
gap in thigh but clevage wide
sings how i would love to shoot
his goo gun : across the face
of my life ~~ but now/give me
notes and words .

i am so happy that i’m so lovely
deep six feet above my ears.
And never found god.

_ . _


Psychiatrist’s Chair

VERTICAL is food ~ background: yellow
triangle knew black next to trees
roots brown lined grey i paint__
He’s the one the one who likes
to be alone and never talks
but writes words anthropomorphic
meanings yea
danger is love
bad fruit
tangerine boo
psychiatrist chair full of hair
the pink mouth devours all meaning
is what society means
hey auntie look at this
how i knew self-appointed
modern heroes i visit their tombstones
take a blade of grass to fill my pink-watered glass
How reality is truly whore screwing love and dreams
taking what’s ours leaving nothing more
You know what it means to be numeric and all
the numbers equal zero
null.

:: 09.27.2022 ::


All of Me

LOVE and tears no sleep now.
Oh sleep, dear. Screaming words
o Princess alone in your cold room
Forgotten feelings but brilliant stars
touch this Soul who trembles with love
and hope!

So tired being here. Suppressed by my fears.
And if  i could be alone these sounds of your words
would go and erase my tears within my eternal heart
and hold on to these years wasted.

My words can never be heard | alone, a pain just
too real

My heart is a cedar box closed and lost to me.
How love shall never know my name
Precious! Close your mouth until the light shines.
And then brilliant light shall make you mine.

THIS pain is too real too much that time can
never erase /i fear i held your hands too
long \ destroyed my life.

And all of Me.

My precious love.

:: 09.22.2022 ::


Op. 1

A laughter sprung out in Spring
measured by love.

A joy bursted heart!

I dreamed // I can not say

a Sparrow sang
but saw the trees

For the love,
for the love of hearts

For the love of us all!

:: 01-17-2015 ::


An Anemic Lie

I saw a lie cross a path
anemic and weak it made its way
craving souls that only know
life of fear and pain

It did not have far to go.

//-//


A Hundred Poems XV

SWEET faith come to me
that darkness seeps
and my weather vane
so empty
a petal- less flower weep

stare i do above my fear
and see a golden glow
it rises kissing horizon

that is my faith
my dear

that shower my vane
until it full
of the power of light

to feed my wither
soul


Wing

“Look at this wing! I found the strength to go on when I took it. No, you were my reason to live, my one wish and one dream. I’d have done anything to keep you safe from now to eternity.”

:: 09.21.2022 ::


The Deal

“No man knows till he experiences it, what it is like to feel his own life-blood drawn away into the woman he loves.”