Wayward

1 pictures

A Momentous Victory Day!

The, the, the, the Mystery!

How Much Delight Would That Be?

Jungle air thick, cool gelled in sun on mind and skin

Petri dished, to breathing in chocolate chip cookies baking after sourdough bread

Now, stunned, wrapped in the cajeta flan you bite into, eyes wide suddenly in Mexico

Tart squirting, sweet, crispy, mango juice ejecting the VHS of your old brain

Small Step

Snap!

Crackle!

Pop!

I stay in my lane

Grin

And rock

Balsamic Moon

Dynamic comes alive

Leaping like fish

Gleaming in dark moonlight

Absurdly like a bird or wish

Hits he waves without a splash

Now speeding sunwise

Reverse engineered

Where we’ll be at sunrise

Story Recipe

What’s your favorite recipe?

To deliver

Deliciously nourish

A feast I cook

To satisfy souls appetite

To grow, instead of wither

A Kind of Knowledge

You know how you know

Growths rhythm

By it’s stops and it’s transitions

The developmental maturing

Mystery organ of decision

When you check your gut

Regardless of the situation

You know where something ends

Even during it’s gestation

That knowledge of the end

That holds the line

From now to then?

Spelling

You think

You feel

Quiet, still

You ink

Your will

Anchor

Trance dance

A moment

In a place

Be in

The eternal

Present with

A face

Stay

Allow

Novelty

Replace

Joy Day

Breath in

Anticipation

Breathe out

Delicious moment felt

Fire glow within

Fill your eyes with dark

Air touches your skin

Enacting Maggi MacFeegle

Bought blue body paint

Ordered some wild red hair

Bringing my scrap of tetan

To float around and wear

Chanting the Nac Mac Feegle cry

“Nay King! Nay Queen!

Never again!“

Beware

NO KINGS DAY Protest: June 14, 2025

In light of what’s going on in LA and everything else, we need everyone on the streets for this march. Find your local march (by zip code) at https:/…

NO KINGS DAY Protest: June 14, 2025

One

Oh palimpsest

Of human skin

Her, last week

Now?

Now, this person!

What Are Little Morns Made Of?

Dawn yawns

Turn of day

Bouquet of tarot cards

Colors sway

Peeking fragrance petals

Cuddled underground

Drinking in

The gift from Someday

Farewell Tom Robbins

I wish the same

For you and I

Young readers

From our fame

Feel it when we die

Alicorn Seed

We found an alicornian seed

In among the sheets

It musta got somehow mislaid

And landed here we thinks

It’s Alicorn

It’s known

When you hold it near your heart it weeps

Giving Life this Look Again

Chocolate Choice Feeling Candy

Looking at your day

Like a baybe

You know, but you can’t say

Anything sweet might happen, maybe

Expect it anyway

Moment Candy

Hold the moment candy

In your mouth to make it last

Till the taste of solid fantasy

That feels like being eight

While Santa Claus is on its way

When you just grin and wait

Holding caramel of knowing

In mind until it melts

Melts me

Sweet meltdown of desire

None for the heat of rage no more

Gave nothing to hellfire

This Warm Place How I Wanna Feel

This now

Not my problem how

Feel carefree like a moment

All that fosters discontent

So slyly put away

The moment is what I put in it

Candies that I like

Sucking on it’s sweet

Everything beyond taste fades

Without attention

Then, life tastes a treat

Blanks to Fill

Fill in each blank

Along the colored brick road

Take the cake

Without growing old

Or directed or assigned

See it just unfold

Or expect to be told?

Pay Grade Above

Ain’t my concern

Where or when or how

Life unfolds

I dream smiling dreams

Smiling, I allow

Keeping Austin Weird

Keep Austin Weird

Yes, indeed!

Yet, when our

American President

Like smoking weed

Starts making America Weird Again

I don’t know what to think

Lean in, get surprised

Watch, laugh, smile, wink

Live the start of anything

Difference

What’s the difference between

Between outs and ins?

How many outs

How many ins?

Cute Birdie

Peekaboo

Yummy lunch!

A Colorful Phase

Soon to be naked

What If

We come in all kinds

Of insides

Lookin so human

At first

puzzles

With secrets

Mysteries by birth

Unsolved stories

One Evolution

Watched Pot

Never boils?

So,

Expands time

The universe

Deepens an eternal moment

Opens up Life

And everything

Watch a pot

Who’s In Charge Here?

God is in the details

Exactly where the devil’s at

According To

The moment tall strong suits

Live their sideways view

Do I bend over backwards

Lean to sideways crawl

Follow my own sense of gravity

Just walk tall?

Antagonist

My hero

Only as fine

As the villain

Also mine

Is woe

Tree

Tree Spirit,

Always is season

I am the reason

The tree in me

Loves it

Look Up Child

Feel the friendly Sky

looking back

Feel the hug

Dear Friend,

Luck and joy to you!

Peace and goodwill to you from wherever you celebrate around this time. And also from all you don’t celebrate Might as well right?

Here, accept all the gifts from all the rash of new and ancient traditions.

I accept it all. At midnight and whenever. So, I give it all to you too. Take it.

For that taste and glow of sacredness I am celebrating the Solstice because there are unicorns involved.

Thanks for providing them, whoever you are.

I suppose they’re the good old pair from the day? Brought to life in a new story then found by you just now?

You know from that unforgettable scene in the production of Good Omens, when the daemon Crowley and the angel Aziraphel, are talking about the impending destruction of all life beginning with the animals parading into the arc.

Crowley, the fallen angel, is questioning the wholesale massacre by water.

Aziraphel, the angel, is going along with the routine genocide.

In the scene, Noah calls out, “Shem! The unicorns are getting away!”

Where did they go?

So glad you found them.

They were the only ones who weren’t going along with the bullshit.

Rare and magical.

I suppose you can free the pair of magical creatures to frolic around in your world so you can watch them from your inner balcony.

I think unicorns may filter into our realm around the corners of the year, when the new season program updates. So perhaps that’s when you are sometimes able to lure them into licking your luck.

Have an enchanted merry happy unicorny day, dears.

An alter to the Spirit of Christmas, the unicorn tree.

Tenderness

Warm, glossy red

Tenderness

I keep it in my head

An everyday Christmas

It Comes Alive

What’s Life?

Who’s Looking Back?

Good luck!

Hello Future

I get to

Focus on

The Precence

Of the future

How?

Here

Desolve waiting

Here is now

An Ancient Friend

The Hare

Horny Bunny

Ah Jackalope

Oh Hare

Inner

Outter

Everywhere

The Hare

Whatever your spirit animal

Perhaps not the Hare

Awaits you

Awaits you

To know she is there

Happen

Something happens to my face

And inner world

When I glimpse my favorite place

Adored

Shaman’s Moon

You commune

With da Moon?

Mystic Symbol

A whole story

Fictional

Like real life

An art

In one squiggle

The Summoning Dark

Let me Just

Let me just float

In the now

Of my dreams

From before

Enjoying everything as is

Is everything

Wanting more and more

Spirit of What

At first

When the Night

She woke me up

Insomnia, the worst

And not delight

Outburst

When

When you hit it

An edge

The lip of the pit

You’re always been

In

You wedge

You’re bodies

On that ledge

To relax

Then feel your life

Float

Believe?

The Spirit of Christmas

Each witching hour

She wakes, she wakes him up

Every night, each night

He takes no pause

To ask her “why, or what?”

He don’t believe,

It’s just her luck,

In Santa Claus

Skills

Photo by Markus Spiske temporausch.com on Pexels.com

Brunette

Blonde

Redhead

What do

You know

Is there in the pattern?

For you

Are you aware?

Cones

Being

My own

Magical

Uni-cone

Feel In the Color

It takes a village

It takes a Village

Life as Artist

Life sketches us out

We live-in the color

Aqua blue

Shows laughter

To me

What shows it to you?

Sky Bone

The Sky

Dead?

Or Alive?

Yellow Paint Spills

From wence

Hues in present

Past and future

Tense?

Focus

Zoom in

Focus here

Till it’s all the world

Color, light, sweetness, warmth

Presence, presents

Feeling gold

Second Wind

Sniff the wind

Sip the wind!

Gift Bow

Meet, make or find

My own rainbow

Feeling, way and sign

I want some colored sweetness

I want, I want

I make up my mind

Follow Your Nose

The smell of thanksgiving butter, garlic citrus
The smell of the wonderful brine

I captured it for you like this

Here, smell it!

Flight

Fall up

Into free-fall

Inner Space

Tap tap tap

You may hit a spot

Take it by the hidden handle

It might have one

It may not

When you try

Try, try, try,

Error! error! error!

Till perhaps you hit

Where to look

Within, somewhere

You might touch

Your feelers on

By seeing when you look

Settle on what chimes just sweeter

Aim your feeling hook

Feel for sweetness

Don’t tell

You won’t need

Candle, book and bell

When you’re here

They’re already there

Cast, cast, cast it!

Dwell, dwell, dwell

You think you’re imagining

It’s really a spell

Float

This new kind of time

A timeishness

It doesn’t fly or stall

It feels like breath

Not crushing up against a wall

Timeless as you fall

Time Swaddled

Do you feel it?

A soft stretchy texture

Of still flowing silvery time

Silk wraps you around

How it adores you

To play with

A bit

Visual Coffee

I drink you in

You, warm eye-full

Like steaming coffee

Before I brew that morning joe

It’s my second favorite thing to drink

After nectar of moon-glow

Gifts and Presence

Perhaps I was born

With more gifts

Than I realized this morn

One could be

All kinds of riffs

At least one

I bet

Is mine

Alone

Little Alters Everywhere

An example of

One of the many ancient

Traditional ways the Western Civilization

Worshiped a god of peace

And gifts

Known as Christmas

Art

The feeling of home

Cooked up all of arts

Gorgeous soul blossoms

Soup of flowers

El taco for our hearts

Your Story

What’s the first line

of that book

you’re writing

with this door

the hinges probably whine

on the cover?

Black

Black cat

No

Squirrel!

Feel the

Wheel of Fortune

Whirl

To Be or Not to Be a Library?

What if we

The world

Including you

And of course, me

Are like

A weirdo library

On loan for free

Check us out!

A Mountain or a Gift?

City Kin

What color are yours?

Found a Clue on the Net

Don’t You Wonder?

So, when you see

Medusa girl and me

Do you wonder

How much fun

Your hair

Could mayhap

Be?

Evolution of Athena

Oh Athena! Goddess of wisdom

An unknown mortal officers the goddess a fountain pen

Athena’s spear and shield transform into it then

Her spear’s got ink-flow now

Now, ink’s power to reflect

To tell a story

To protect

You’ll hear about it when…

Oh, The Places You’ll Go!

You wanna go?

Ask a onewheel

She might take you

You never know!

Floating

I’m floating everywhere

Above the ground

Between the sky

What color is the air?

Hoping to find

A streak of coolish breeze

It’s gotta be somewhere

Out or In?

Explore introspection

Maybe there’s vast blue

Endless and eternal

In the other direction?

Too

She

Magic, she was almost lost to the world once

She almost died

There was nothing for her to live on in these modern times

Then, something surprising happened

You Hold All the Cards

Good morning dear human

WordSmith, malarkist jester

Conjurer of elixir and brew

Pour them spirits of words

Multiply the worlds

It’s all more
I fly in this sky

You make reality

You make the ceiling floor

And more

Fall Fall Fall

Get back up again!

Stairway on the Inside

Stairway to

The stairway to heaven

Mine anyway ,

Is right here

Where I meditate

Heaven can’t

Everything else

That can be bought

Can wait

Nature Worship

Nature, You must worship us!

Note To Self

Whoever you are tomorrow

I have a feeling Imma like she even better
You get more rich and interesting and complex and nuanced with time

The more I get to know you and experience you the finer


I feel so eager with all this loving to look forward to

To keep looking forward to more of you

Some Things Don’t Change

R2-D2

BlondieBear my wheeliebone inviting me to ride

I look up

From swinging

Where I write

Hi!

My little R2D2

Isn’t he a sight?!

Day Follows Night

Woke up in the night

Suddenly

Expecting all I choose

To come out right

Like a child

Way of Life

Sunset to
Sunrise

Wrapping up night

Unfolding day

I don’t help

At all

I relax

The whole way

Living Dawn

Nature Spirit spotted

Hey

Spotted

I met her on a curb

At dawn

The orange yellow glowing jewel

She picked her shiny self up

I strung her on a thong

With all my strands of precious Days

Where there ain’t no verb

To cherish all the ways

My goddish jewel pet friend

Can deliver and amaze

A friend

A Thing Alive?

The Summoning Dark

Storytelling-Humor-Magic

Magic is the story

I the laff I’m looking for

Those rules to magic

Like them rules

To writing

To fun

To funny

Mostly maybe

Magic values like jewelry

So pretty sparkly fun

We acquire

And style with

Whatever

We can

Mind Surf

That dear he wrote

That cracked text note

I read it

Reread it

Sit here

And float

Floating

Into a new life

Skating

Waiting

For life

To change

I

Rearrange

Feeling good

Flying

Super Power?

Sometimes

When the world

Slips

Sideways

Physical bylaws

Twist

Byways

Falling Up?

Original Art by Daniel Caleb

Perspective

Flip

Whiplash

Flying

Whip

Original Art by Daniel Caleb

Tilt the world any way

Sideways or upside down

Dance on it anyway

What Cares and Watches?

The Banjo is Mightier than the Sword

Woody Guthrie Museum

Skin

So,

I feel like myself

In my own skin

Again

Weeeee!

It’s so good to be me!

A Way to Life a Whole Life

Art by Daniel Caleb

Practice

A practice of flying

Good as any other

Way of life

Every moment

Signifying

Seventy-Eight Pick Up

When he turned fifty-two

And I’m gonna do it too

Gimme time

He threw

The whole deck into the air

Felt them rain down everywhere

I’m just picking up cards I like

North of fifty

Life is sweeter

I’m awake

I’m doing the Tarrot

After blowing out the candles

On my cake

Tulsa Public Art

Creating My Own Reality

You’re welcome

To put your attention so

To add pain to your now

By looking at it somehow

No I tho

Tulsa Public Art

Malarquist

I met a man

So full of malarkey

Overflowing with smokey irony

Bantering, swordplay poetry

Dawning dance moves, magic

Floating on hilarity

52

The meaning of Life

The Universe

And everything

Equals 42

Then 52 may be

All of that from

All the world

Looking at

Only you

The Muse

A Muse

To curl up with

My malarkeysmith

To weep

To cuddle

To write

Then sleep

Life

Life Dear,

I chewed all the flavor

Out of this one

I’m wanting, Sir

Another piece of gum

Yum!

You Don’t Read Fiction

Perhaps

I guess

When we don’t

Go in for fiction

Or won’t

It goes in for us

Unreal!

What a mess!

Photo by Ghost Presenter on Pexels.com

Fuel

I guess

It isn’t gas

My engines run on

Or jet or rocket fuel

Probably not even calories

I must just run on magic

As a rule

Ritual

I’m dedicating

My preciousness

To Life, to love

And to caress

Hey There Life

It’s me, Shalom

I’m here

Remember I’m your own?

Here’s surrendering my weird beliefs to you

So You guide me along

To what’s most Tuesday true

To sing me like a song

Of You

Mmh

What to do?

Mmmmh

Which who?

Mmmmh

With you or you?

Oh You?!

Wheeeeheeewwh!

Vera

Eat Your Heats Out Fools

Original Pedestrian Art by Daniel Caleb.

Worship

The spell for owning

Yourself

Her

A room

A town

An art

Map with approval

Adore everything unusual

In your own claim her heart

Set her free

Like you

Appreciate the cracks in her sidewalks

When you do

Walk with yourself in her dawn

Go with her twisting twilight

Why pay her vile attention?

When you could pay her your delight?

Mine

My life

Is for me

Just for me

For me to taste with my heart

To focus on to

Expand my favorite part

Tenderness Strikes

This sweet tender high

I feel sometimes

Whenever I come right in here

And hug my dreams

Thank you for awake existing dears

I appreciate your being mine!

Photo by Clem Onojeghuo on Pexels.com

Life’s Wages

I carry this to my domain

Breathe it in with breakfast

Enjoy it like cakes with silence and coffee

The “Where” where all my power lives

Where when everything changes

Always just is

Where magic grows and I’m some wiz

But it’s been here for ages

“Reality” Suspended

Fleeing for your “life”

When all is lost

and you give up

Maybe life passes

Before your eyes

Then again, maybe not

You stumble, you fall

Headlong, into paradise

Softly, on your hopeless face

In the dirt that rules them all

That Paradise Within

We skip it over

Wrong past the door

Following along with what everyone knows

Doing what’s been done before

Following the signs in orders

Right past that stark brick wall

The portal to that platform’s high

So there ain’t no 9 and 3/4

Until you go flying sideways through

Or die

Planes of Existence

Where in here

I wanna know

Do my favorite times

In life that never happened

Go?

Original Art by Daniel Caleb

Secret Garden

Where the fertile magic dirt

Runs deeper than the earth

Not the shallow trays of fantasy

Where we are led to birth

Our inner magics giant trees

To wither there

Rooted in light sprinkles of self-worth

Poetry Pharmacy

Tarot Spread

We two, we stand at the place

In the cards

Where eachother’s

Best outcome is

This Shaman dude’s at mine

I’m at weirdest his

Rabbit, you trickster!

Crow you symmetrical wiz!

She Fell into the River

It glows

Behind her shut eyelids

A place that grows her

A where, only she knows

My Pocket Glows Electric Blue

Got a Smile Collection coming along

I watch for them like birds

To spot then jot

Down place and time

And relevant magic words

I power this moon strung

On silver chain I bought

With nuances from wild smiles

That charge this fine blue moon I caught

Ever-Now

Yur all them books

I’m wants ta reads

Them twisted nooks

Im-a-gi-nary leads

To wander inta timeless ways

Ways of knowing

Ways ta ways

Re-form-ing

Death inta days

Brimming laughter

Dance an games

Original Pedestrian Art by Daniel Caleb-

What Temple Did You Escape From?

Everywhere gods

Each archetype alive

Living enjoying growing

Developing a being

It’s story

First you notice

The one that’s you

Then

Then, when

You close your eyes

And open them again

Sometimes

You notice who’s

Around you

So the World Turns

On a smile

This smile shining at my core

Where being lives explodes and is gone

Rainbows of dawn

Shooting across some sky

In my inner eye

When you smile that smile

Worlds turn on

The Circle

A letter awaiting me as I exit, jammed in the jamb

I’ll brush my teeth to not smell like coffee- butter, damn

While Dunne and Coleridge pump through my caves of blood

That allow the hormones of ecstasy to flood

Then, I’ll wait to kiss him in a secret wood

Rabbit Knows

You swoon me with poems from another day

When I wanted to drink the Milk of Paradise

But I couldn’t find a way

Taste of Living

If I could do it all again

This time

I’d leave

That salt taste on my skin

Tingleladies

Are a thing

You ask

What are these magical beings!?

Don’t ask me

Ask your imaginarium

You see what it brings

WadeShalom Creature

A shoot of something sprouting

Out from not-a-seed

Brillante green, yet not a tree or weed

Appearing out of love stuff

Like Bluegrass

It erupts like Woooot!

Makes want, then desire

Out of hunger and need

Then it takes root

And like sourdough culture

And redwood forever

Past where I can see

I feed and nurture it

-It grows me

Legend

My human life

Could be

As mythical

As magical

As I allow

And see

Breathing The World

I breathed

Before I knew

You always already belonged

Everywhere

In my air, like the sky

With every breath in

With every breath out

You’re smile turnes into everything

The world is all about

Contextually

I give up

What I love

Just to freedom

Hell above!

Some Legend

Be resting, you asleep apart
Dear smith of my intellectual-soul
While I sit here and weep
A liquid sugar salt

Guy who pays The Boatman
He thinks of it!
With his resurrected art
More than just a turn of phrase
It turns a world

It turns my gaze

It twirls my heart

Diverged in a Wood

The arduous path

The horrible death-like

The inferno path of redemption

Feels so much sweeter-alive

Than it’s “alternative”

There is just no fucking question

Silver Alchemist Says

Yeah if our alchemy can

Turn white to pink and pink to red

Heck! That’s plenty man

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The Alchemist


A great morning for alchemy
Transforming lead to gold

The feeling of soon, it isn’t soon enough
Lead has it’s place like “soon”
It’s heavy useful and doesn’t shine like my Smithed stuff
So, taking the feeling of what I want

The conclusion of soon
I close the gap
By focusing only on the end
So as far as my reality knows

Now I am in your arms
Now, I think
Best feeling ever!
Why wait?
To wit, alchemy
In a wink

What Corrupts?

The trick to get power but not be insane

Give it all back

Return it just changed

Try to wield it?

Be happy in vain

Photo by Miguel u00c1. Padriu00f1u00e1n on Pexels.com

Soonness

So much Soon

Is happening Now

A Shaman Says

Hang the moon

Hang the moon

Then grab it!

Way of the trickster

Wisdom of the rabbit

Into

The wild cliff edge inside

A place just past instead

Is beaconing

A thing

Some Secret time

A wanting you to come into

A something mystery waits for you

For to become two new one

Time

A year of wonderful

Hours

To spend my minutes in

Being here

I noticed this now

Now

I’m choosing

I’m living

I’m seeing

A world changed

From you in it

Mixed in

Like salt

Like yeast

Sparking whatever

This spell is

Sweet

Photo by Ghost Presenter on Pexels.com

Magic’s Ingredients

Ah!

A morning

And what a morning too

Oh what a freaken afternoon today!

What a week!

A week of Tuesday

With you

A marvelous month of Tuesdays

Every minute

What a life dear

Dear Life

To wit

A life

This one

The one life with that particular smile

In it

Is-ness

This is-ness

Is

Is

Is

Some prism thingy

Rainbow

What was just light

To Thisness

Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Pexels.com

A Way

Jennifer LeBaron

We

We make love

The tiny fingernails

We don’t make

We make love

Love makes the world go round

We don’t

Round and round

And round

We go

“Black and White?“ Duh

Really?

How dumb are you?

To divide up normal people

Perhaps to conquer

By an aspect that’s least true

Repeating ”black lives matter”

Is dumber and more boring, too

Than foolishly insisting

Shouting like an idiot

The sky is blue!

The sky is blue!

If you don’t get it

Be an idjit

Now be off with you

Our Own Home-Forged Americans

Sista Brutha

My Fatha

My Matha

You not vanilla

Thank the lawd

Or of Africa

Not no moe

You’re ours!

You’re forged

You’re mine

You’re yours

You’re here

You’re ours!

Right here

In the land of the slave

To be free

To be

Of America

My nigaa!

My own dear sweet

Genuine

The best

Made in America

Magical irreplaceable nigaa

No One Cares Who You’re Superior to Kid

The lowest common denominator

Of lovely human noobs

Can just get on with growing up

Just like your normal kid-bro boobs

And let the grownups talk

Irrelevant Dude

I’m not talking to you

If you need this shit

explained

Your view

Makes you irrelevant

For now

Freedom doesn’t require

Your consent

No one’s asking you

You’re just uninteresting somehow

Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

Irrelevant

Y’all perfectly worthy

Wonderful cherished noobs

Wherever you are

However color-misguided y’all be

Or how

That, and how anything else

But, for the purpose of clarity

This lowest common denominator

Of human thinking beings

Now

Can just go fuck themselves

Flying

First dem tickets

To Cancun

Now

Dem tickets

to da Moon

Color? Really?

Can you

Try

Please

Try

To think of

Anything

Just anything stupider

To divide us by?

This Land

This is a land

This is a land

Where I gotta just watch

Just watch what’s done

And how some behave

This is a land

Where when you ain’t free

I ain’t brave

DailyLoveSpell

Add a large dollop of beauty

To your eyeball

Replace it in your head

Connect a sturdy cord to it

Not a flimsy thread

Plug that new connection

Right into year heart

Then don’t forget to start

Seeing by projecting it

Weaving and connecting it

Love may be an art

To Choose this Feeling Life

I’m getting to become

Like a little kid again

I just focus on

this

One feeling

Instead of

That one

Oh that one

No! This one

-instead

Stay here

In this sweeter

Sweetest feeling place

Feel the sweeter

Place inside instead

Something mild

Choose this one

Warm place

peace place

Free and wild

In here

The Dude

Abides

Human Plants

We seem to look

Human

While behaving

More like plants look

-Nothing alike

Still

To the core

Humans

Like plants

Buncha weirdos

Having Some Good Now Lately!

Having some wonderful now these days

Some wonderful wonderful magical now

Now now now

Now

Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Pexels.com

The Weather

You know when

When the weather

When it suddenly

Is a storm?

It was something

nothing

only heat

Now it’s

Solid fluid this

Breezing blowing

Cooling

After the burning…

Bliss

Photo by Steve Johnson on Pexels.com

To Catch La Moon

Every time

I try

I catch La Moon

Then keep each

Sweet glowing

Baby lune

Right here

On my fingernails

To summon moonlight every noon

For casting daily Tuesday spells

Taah daaa!

Ta

Ta

Ta ya ya!

Ta ta

Ta ya ya

Ta ta

Ta ta ta!

Ta

Da!

Things

Are always

Working out

For me

Water is cool

Air is free

Color-Coding People?

So simple minded

Are you high?

Pass on thinking

Short-cut by

Color-code me my worldview

There is no fucking why

It’s just programmed into you

We puppets

Pass on freedom

Are you drinking?

Scripted role-play

Umm umm ummh

Universal way?

Play play play

It’s true like hell

Based on what?

Like shoe size

As a helpful criterion for marriage

We’re stuck in a fairly-tale

Don’t make me fucking laugh

Categorized by fucking color?

Regardless of some evil genius

Who devised this

Back when Lordness wasn’t land

No mo

Here we are

Now

That we still

Follow a fucking color-code

This shit is on us

Nothing about it’s real

Bunch of dumbasses

Make no fuss

No matter what goddam colors us

It’s skin dude

Skin deep

And we are free

To see and choose

So, you see “white” when you see me

What the fuck is that?

Thanks for the box man

There’s so much more than

That color is the least of value

When I look at you

A snap value judgement

Just prescribed by paint

I see the story

Of “brown” or “black” or “white”

A story that really ain’t

And we loose our brains

Without even saying “Wiat!”

And our future

Drains

To crayons

From short-cuts

We can’t not

We act this fucking lame

So, we get what we got

If

I had it all

To do again

Again

Again

Again

Again!

Photo by Ryan McGinty on Pexels.com

A Shaman

I admire adore and swoon before
A mind that’s placed

Perfect on the untouchable curve of now
Forever

Forever incomplete and wanting more
I’m here for

Allowing everything to unfold itself somehow

Sylph

This one shy sylph one day

It’s said, of a thousand charms

Decides to count each one

She counts, she counts, she counted

But them magics keep dripping right down her arms

First she figured she’s unwise

Then she noticed all the butterflies

Photo by Judy Kim on Pexels.com

A Solid State Drive

I feel all fiscally responsible

It’s so good!- for myself

I feel so well-ithy right now

With no evidence of wealth

Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

Could Work

Perhaps treat trust

As we treat

A baby

They’re what

The future’s made of

Maybe

Woman

Her body by affection warms

It stirs the inner pot

She drinks the chocolate by the fire

Wether it’s true or not

A secret opens up within

By an unknown hand

It grows into a pocket space

A portal to a no-man’s land

A man may enter in

And be in her enchanted place

A paradise or sin

A kingdom

The mystery feminine

Solid Golden Glow

A living liquid all lit up

The spirit of a baby god

A mountain feeling comes along

Solid sunlight

Rich AF (as fortold)

So warm- like summer cold

Up lit in glowing

Moons of silver gold

That money matters not

If it’s a thing

It’s a thing You got

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Two Thousand Miles Far Away

When you’re over there

While I am over here

We’re in each other’s inner parts

That is just the deal

Projects right onto each other’s hearts

Where everything gets real

What Kinda Man is This?

He wears a Beawolf, like a Star Wars tee

Then sports a Harold and the Purple Crayon

Gee

But he wore his 42 tee just for me!

Accessory to Slavery

You’re done here Slavery

She’s mine

My sista

You can’t touch her

She’s mine

Because I love her

He’s mine!

My brotha

You can’t touch him

You’re done here

I chose now

I’m no longer an accessory

Watching, just watching

Jim Crow ii just casually go down

Now I see and bear witness

You go down for real

You’re done here

Exploitation thingy

Whatever you are

Or seem to be

There’s only one reality

The end

Love

You’re in love

I always in

Four times a day

It’s been it’s been

Without without within within

Tuesday Tuesday again again

Without within without within

Cherished

I’m cherished by this feeling of home

This feeling-place that’s sprouted and grown

From and into worlds unknown

And taking over this old one

It’s Tuesday Again- In Loving Memory of-It’s Thursday Again

In loving memory of Hugo of It’s Thursday Again.Wordpress.com. You’re welcome for all the fish Rhino House, dear.

Four perfect Tuesdays in a row

Establish the Tuesday feeling flow

Now it’s Tuesday every day

Just because it’s so

Tuesday oh Tuesday!

Again again again

A magical Tuesday every-day

For me to live and love within

A Place and a Space

I went looking for fairies

And angels and gnomes

Hungry for the sacred and for the unknown

I tried each fanciful story ever grown

I searched all the places

And ways to might find them

But didn’t

An empty ache I wanted to leave

But it wouldn’t

Grew

Right where a unicorn might have lain down to rest

This fantastic fantom limb ached in my chest

It settled in where my mistake

It lived, it thrived and bred

Eventually, I did give up the search

When all it’s joys had fled

I put hope down

And picked up despair instead

And let it ramble through my head

Except in a corner my secret face

A holy of holies dusted well-lit place

With plenty of inner pocket space

There yet remains a sacred quiet grace

For davas daemons and fairy rings

Just in case

Photo by Joey Kyber on Pexels.com

Creation

I respond to You

Then You are me

My dear

I cherish you, my inner world

While strange flowers just appear

Then flourish into nameless fruit

When now is always here

Photo by Steve Johnson on Pexels.com

Some Pig!

Pigsez

We used to call

Every sweet little pig

I didn’t much want to be me back then

If I could be Wilbur

Or Babe

Or Charlotte

Instead

Lovelings

Toss handfuls of affection ‘round

One half-side of the seed

The lucky find another half

To hug and spoon

and swell and sprout

Where magical creatures breed

Till tender shoots must burst forth

To satisfy a need

Some Magical Company

Meet my great friend Z

I adore his company

In my heart he pays no rent

Where no one’s guilty

Ever

Till proven innocent

La La La

When the world is crazy

When all contradicts

Crazy makes sense

Imsane arrows sting and kill

Till long long experience

Gives you a rinse

Then then then

Bully bullets

Stop in mid air

At will

Crisp to the Soul

Photo by Dom J on Pexels.com

The feeling

Of a clear crisp babbling stream

Cuz everything’s clean

Where the Wild Things Are

I wonder what

That where is…

Expiration Date

Pop off the top

of your Lifeberry jam

Lick off the knife as you spread it

That jar’s all used up

Before you expire

You bet it

Nectar of the Gods

I’m on a real mood cloud
anticipation just bubbling brewed
A foamy expectation of good


Lucky elixir


Instantly Thrilled

Silly
Unicornie
Free!

Like that thunder just now
These raindrops
May clap just for me

Smithed

You’re melted

Reshaped

Gleaming

Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

Liminal Places

The only reason

I believe this

Is cuz it’s happening

It’s happening now

Afterwords

I ask

If it ever really did

Always be a Wondering

The impulse

It carries you

This way

Into

What could just be a door

If it were anything

If it were anything

It could be magical

It could be

Sometimes

It might be

It might

Close your eyes tight

Wanted

To be like genius smart

With an epic equivalent

Tender intelligent heart

To start

Life of a Story

 

image

Something
Sucked up the moment
Keeps meticulous notes
The whole thing as it happens kept
Born into patterns
Alive in lives
Traditional me projectile vomits out
Taste becames a home
Meditation takes over the meaning in everything
Falling in love kicks everything else out
Old tastes move home-made soul back in
A project working on itself
Some days lightning strikes
Connecting neurons that never met weld together
A million alive connections align
Pulsing
Life into a story
The sleeping story wakes up
We Talk

 

 

Personified Architecture

Could a process become

Somehow

Some-kind of alive?

A self organizing system

If so, Wow!

A syndrome, the spirit of a place

A myth a god a power

A mind if it’s own

Evolutionary

What now?

When my world memory started recording my life for me storing it

The moment I woke up to life I was cuddling a soft brown bunny. And I was thinking. If I say I found it. The gate could have been open. Then I can keep it.

I left the gate around the side of the house open. I had already considered the trouble I could get in for opening a gate next door. Proof there. See, the gate is already open.

Finders keepers. It’s the ultimate authority. I just found it.

I could feel the weight of authority. My sister had enforced this law and applied it with my things alot. so I know it was a good working device I could operate to claim a bunny.

I adjusted the world and had my very own furry bunny. I could have named my wonderful new dream come true America! But something bothers me. I also knew about telling the truth. I wondered if I was telling the truth. That was something else I kew was important. But I didn’t know how telling the truth works. And does it matter if I tell it or not if no one else knows?

So I would test it, I guess. I want this bunny so bad. I want it to keep being. For that I have to find it.

It had to be loose out the gate that I didn’t open. I couldn’t have opened the gate and found the bunny in a hutch that I unlatched to take it out.

Id never unlatched anything before. I remember thinking as soon as I found myself unlatching if I would get in trouble for that. But it didn’t matter cuz the bunny was just looking at me with big eyes between it’s ears and I knew it was a bunny from the pictures. It didn’t run away. That’s how I knew it was as good as mine. I had to hold it. I would just say it was already unlatched.

And left open.

That the door was ajar.

That the bunny was on the ground.

Outside the gate left open. By someone else.

Im holding the rabbit.

I don’t like the way I start to feel.

I turn around with the bunny all droopy. It falls out of my grasp. It hops a few hops away.

Oh no! Need somewhere to keep my bunny from hopping away.

I head towards it lean down and try to snatch it up. But it pours out of my grasp like hopping water.

I get all the way down hold it from hopping. Put both arms around it and hold the bottom so it doesn’t flow out.

I hug it tighter and lift it up again. Now I have a bunny again.

It’s mine.

I caught it. it was escaping.

Someone did indeed let it out then it was running away.

I caught it.

So now I am telling the truth!

Yay!

But the truth bothers me. So I remember the day.

Letters to a Young Philosopher

“What we like best is not always good for us.”

That’s a statement.

It’s a statement that’s sorta like an equation.

You build stuff on it.

Or use it to try to fly.

Please take it to Kitty Halk and test it, dear.

You might be using the glider guy’s equation to build a flight machine.

Test it like a Right Brother.

I tested it.

Using that statement as truth I glided and crashed insanely. Repeatedly. For years. I couldn’t believe in flight then. Like the world hoped but didn’t back in the day.

Like Einstein said:

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over expecting different results.

I stopped.

Test shit honey.

It has to work to be true.

What you go by has got to at least achieve some tiny flight.

Then you have something solid that works to go ahead and get on with the space era.

Hugs

Tender Morsel

It’s food

Is tenderness

As soul nurturing

As tenderloin

Care and Care

Tenderly abide

His infant parts

Instead of no

It’s maybe

Them puppy eyes

With fetus hearts

To betray a man

Might as well punch a baby

Life and Art Form

In the telling

Inside the sculpture

Right behind the paint

Isn’t where I expect to see

What something is or ain’t

Photo by Jadson Thomas on Pexels.com

What Dreams May Come

I give my history

Life love and needs

My own benediction

I like my reality better

Why impose?

Even if it reads

Like fiction

Care and Feeding of

That mystical fourth

-Like May the 4th-

That Mystical fourth Metaphysical thing

To nurse

To care

To feed

Our inBetween

Like some living

Alchemy being

Things That be Flow

Currency works the same way

Particle and wave

Just for the feel

And the beauty

And to know

Sip Sip Sip

Add one spoonful of hope-i-ness

Stir into me like tea

Toss it back

Drunk on Life

Or sip the Day

Slowly

Tardis Life

I wanna be an instrument

Database compass measure

Serving living being

At the pleasure

Of the Evolutionary Imperative

Thingy or whatever

Creating meaning

And me

God

Her name is Candy

She instantly adores

Fully worships and is floored

By Everyone she meets

As you’re deiafied

Realize

You ain’t dislexic

What’s This?

I feel hot lava thrill and thrall

Sweet upflow to my heart

Just before you reach out

When we are apart

OneWheel

Step up onto a cloud

A board not a carpet

Ride on the wind

And like it

Free the mountain goat within

Fly shredding dangerous curves

Try to bank the cloud again

Carv your name in the dirt

Surf the sky and a world within

The Velveteen Rabbit

The flights of fancy

I turn real when I muse

Is it a nightmare

Or a dream

That I choose?

Yeah

Yuh!

Come ride with me my Morning dear

Delight me just like this

Shred the day in rapture

Life feels like a kiss

UX Life

I pay attention

To this gift I get

Then I tweak the worlds

With it

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The Gap?

Can you skip a breath?

Can it really skip a beat?

What is it?

Not engaging

Just allowing

Un-supposing

Broken-vowing

Space gets made

Be afraid

Rage and strut

Behave strange

Lose grow crow

And change

Salty

The Sea

The tricky Sea
Storm and rage and glee
He swept away my heart
He waves he laughs
So I swallow him up
We wept
The Sea and me

A Tail (Perhaps tall like a drink-a-water)

He wonders

Grins

Wants to hear more

Sighs

Weeps

Loves that girl

The Meaning of Life in Two Words

Fuck Yeah!

To Err or Not to Err

Hi there Mr. Mistake

Thank you for the chance to make

You

Make me

Hello You and You

I fancy you Today, oh Day of Days

Ah,

Though

Now I see you nearly here

Coming along Tomorrow dear

Hey! Tomorrow! you!

Would you be my best friend too?

Whatever Works

Well

Thanks to you Sea

And thank you Z

Because of you

I’m more me

Evolutionary Something

Floating

In suspense of time

In frozen color

Twisted rhyme

And why?

Who is Day?

Thank you Day

Today

For being mine!

To Day

To Day

Today

Like the Wind

I feel so free

Oh

I feel

So me!

Stories

They just happen

Like days

Shining

They just happen

Like nights

doing

Whatever nights do

Same as you

The Moment When You Know

I adore you

All you

Things I wanna do!

Oh! Ohh ohhhhh!

Oh,

So…

You adore me too!

Oh

Sweeter than Slurping

Dip a finger

In

Hot creamy

soup

Within

Lick it off

Instead of scoop

Amen

Smell the Day

All things done

Are wanted

Nothin goes to waste

The Forty-Two’s

How fra’g’rant

All these moments taste

Because Every Day is Fucking Magical

Hello there Day
All shiny new

As always
Your old self

Just doing you

Wow

Thank you
Best of Days!
Who are you anyways?
How are you made?
To notice me?

Can we be friends?

Come play!
Unfold yourself again today

again again

please

DirtSurfing with the Dawn

I rolled along the friendly Breeze

That blows the fingers of the Trees

To wave at me throughout the night

That tap tap tap on my window

Life Itself

 

Where am I?

Where am I?

I just splashed in

Saunteted in here wet

just to get

a kingly fitting fibbing met


This brave desire to take

Or be taken

In

Line by line

Fiction threads

Entangled in exciting webs

Spun into golden yarn


Now fantasy transports

Delicious delighted scammed

It’s what you get

Unimagined yearning met

Captured

Fantastically converted

Relish

Falling

Captivated

Danced to

Dancing you

Book Club?
or
Strip Club?

Happy Glorious 25th of May!

Growing Up

To feel it

To cry it

To see through the tears

Photo by Will Wu on Pexels.com

Maybe

Evil is the error part of this ongoing trial and error.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

It could be

A way to wheedle out what’s

evolutionarily viable

Or how would Life know?

Without evil, err error

Surupy

Boring

A heroless

Story

Day without night

So what then?

What?

Enter the Mystery

I keep crying

And yet yet yet

Everything

I want

I get

A Close Friend

I’m reaching out

I’m here

To connect with you

In open air

You aren’t invited in

You may not enter

Your bull in tow

To break up my china

Again

Now

Pink vibrates

In this infinite chest

I’m taken

Go giddy

Transported here not away

In the crystal notes of this moment

Day after day after day

Liminal Tech

This elasticated

Accordion

Adjustable

Material

Immaterial stuff

Stitched up

All designed

Particle to Wave

In a wink

With a whine

Wild

Sometimes

Noticed

Always worn

Unseen wings

Mane

Tail

Hoofs

And horn

Every Day

Pale Darkness shakes me

Dawn wakes me up

Morning lurks and starts to glow

I sip the silence and I know


This day could become anything

Turn any way

Spin

Trip and fall

Pick me up

Taking me away

In it

With it

Like it

Choose

Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

A pure cool sip of sparkling daydream

The Inside Steps

Now

Stepping out

Of leaping red blue fire thoughts

Sipping dipping into this

Tall fresh cool pool

Drink of Being

Now

Inner Spaces

Does to enter

And abide

Feel inviting?

I’m learning to ask my inner innocence

Since

I’m made of inner space

Maybe it’s spring there

Yellow blooming bubbles here

Lilac in the air

What breeze?

Where?

Made of the trails sidewalks roads and stops nowhere

In this something something place

Between us

Like where the streets have no name

Between Them

Triangulated

To infinity power

It’s just a place

Like any other

My drive home

My road to work

My way to your heart

All places in space or time or something unnamed

Your heart’s adventure into mine

Of all such places

Where do I want to be?

Where invites me in?

Invisible irresistible places

To go and come

And be

Where You Live

I travel alone

Back here

Some now

Right how

My attention

You mapped it

Follow

To my inner address

Where Peace lives

My home

Queendom

I guess that’s enough for me

Keeping being all of myself

Though this all of me seems

Mostly to be

To much for most 

Of humanity

One’s gotta suspect soulmatiness

It’s here

keep feeling it

It

Itself

And for it  

Again 

Magically bright 

What I want right here

Somewhere 

Here and there

I’ll see

Be

Know it

In this moment

Deeply seen while being

Here, not far

At hand,

Inside 

Where the wild things and the kingdoms are

Because I can recognize

And feel it now

Why wait?

Spire

To breathe 

To feel magical 

Magnificent 

The basic base human being state 

Existence 

Living 

Breathing Life through

It’s now

It is

It Is

No hill

Over there

To aspire to

I spire it

in every breath 

Or hold it

My choosing blocking thoughts

Block the truth 

Damn the feeling 

Of bright and shining now 

Only now is

My cathedral spire

The kingdom 

In you

Every moment 

Weather you choose it 

or chose shit

Always the same

To be lit

Like your invisible hilarity 

One’s gotta suspect it’s there

Keep feeling for it

Asking questions 

Time taken

So all fucking faith must be

Suspect 

Hope

Wonder 

Try

Ask

Wonder 

Try again

Ah, there it’s all

Within

Photo by Steve Johnson on Pexels.com

Real Programmer

Choose the brightness

Focus

Then pick what to see

Interpret the finger of the Wind

Select

Command

Believe

Photo by Key Notez on Pexels.com

Life

It matters

Mattering does

Mattering matters

So becomes matter

Instruments

We quills

You sketch your lines

Your red letter days

blue places

A mystery wire frame

Scratched in permanent sky

Or something water color ink that never ever dries

These cities grown between us all live on

Forever?

While everybody dies.

Then Live Between the Lines

When my eye holds only angles

They suck thought out between

the lines

Being lost here somewhere is my moment

Where paint-flow washes out my mind

What’s Real Magic?

As if 
any
Could thwart
A Light
A Way
A Life
A Day!



Poodles And Dalmatians

Regardless of race?

Race?

Are we talking alien or animal?

This word applies to humans?

All us humans can breed.

We Are the human race.

Translation Transition

The sweetest sweetness of all of Life

Might just be

In the footnotes

The Color of a Now

You, my star

In Doppler blue

Expanding my inner verse

Go Ahead, Believe In Coincidence Instead

My writing corner, it’s ceiling light went out

It’s been six months

Here I am, Your avatar, amused

It’s back

In the midnight, the only night

As I sat here and cherished the dark’s dancing candle light

How Do You Know Yours Does You?

This Morning loves me

I can tell

When fist He brings me coffee

Then goes tempting my eagerness with

forbidden gumdrop fruit

Designed and built all just for me

He, then, He let’s me be

I Bet You Don’t Know It’s You

It’s made for me

The world is

The way i am made for me

i am the World Herself

i adore You World

You adored me first

– i just noticed

Your own personal fairy dust

This moment touches you

Oh, we’re here, here, here

Joy and you hold hands just then

To breathe,

the atom splits again

Again, again, again

Bottle Your Elixir of Life

To live high on this delicious brew

All the fermenting is you

If you can’t be still and feel

Gratitud

You’re screwed

What Does “World” Mean Anyway?

For God so loved the game that he played it.

John 3:16

That’s all I have to say about that. I only wish Clown Head were still here in the game and not logged out.

The World

Nothing penultimate about this one…

So long, and thanks for all the fish. By the time you read this I shall sadly no longer be with you. Thank you for all the “likes” and comments, and …

Nothing penultimate about this one…

The best follow up with cookies or a thank you note.

I suck at all that follow uppy stuff. I’ve felt so jealous just on principle.

Today, I figured this out.

I don’t bake, wrap and deliver cookies.

I follow up with stories.

I bake wrap and deliver meaning.

So, that’s what I’m up to.

No cookies for you.

Search and Rescue You

You find you

There and in here you find yourself

It’s them stories

They find you

They find you where you find them

Instant recognition maybe

There’s you

So, that’s who you are

I didn’t know it was you

Looking like me

Normal?

Normal

What’s normal?

Who’s normal?

When normal?

How, why, normal?

Who says what’s?

Mine’s as mine as my foot size.

Defined, solidified by National Geographic

Boxes and shelves of people who almost must exist, sort of, because there are pictures

They sorta exist

You know, to be in here, to strike me

Look at that!

So I can dig in the boxes for the most shocking naked, huge, wrinkly, big bright feathery, tiny, adorable or sinking bony.

Curious dark friendly eyes slanting behind skins and furs

Naked painted long breasted moms

All that stuff on their heads taller is than they are

funny expressions

why would anyone move like that?

And in public.

Measuring the world with my foot.

Just One Good Catch?

Is everyone, every single believer, having an intimate personal relationship with the same person?

Big Polygamy?

Haha

www.instagram.com/p/B2b2nQFB7r9/

Putting the Light Into an Idea’s Eyes.

Who creates who?

I Wish I Did This One

Low Battery Warning- What Charges Your World

presence is electric-electricity

it charges your phone

it’s you-and it’s you when you notice

you plug into your own

flip a switch with your attention

inner solar power connects

it goes super nova

as you fall in love

your football team won

P.S

I think The original was better:

Where Am I When I Need Me?

I just want to name, own, describe, and get what I do.

I’m pretty clear who I am.

My gifts are part magic part audacity, part art

Lots of every kind of composition, strings of intuition, mostly listening, while taking things apart.

Mostly, I just pay a fresh attention, wonder, do research and thought experiments, maybe try a few things, cuz I really do wonder about that, then wonder aloud.

Tweak my own perspective if something’s really stuck. Mostly, my clients Winnow out then names what’s going on. She comes up with answers , then figures out how to see it, feel, think and act. While I just sit there and wonder.

I sit there openly wondering about one thing and another. While also in Wonder and jaw dropping amazement as mere becomes super.

So, you think shifting that this way will cut out the friction over there?

Huh?

Why can’t I see how that’s working then?

Oh, so you say you just needed a cog there, then, yeah I totally see how that works.

But that’s not the magic.

I guess I market their ideas dreams and themselves to them.

So by the time it’s done, they own it, made it, believe in it. They believe in themselves are right in the middle of their purpose.

I think I sorta allow people to reinvent themselves, their relationships, goals, purpose, system, then I market what I see to them.

They buy themselves and walk away rich.

I think the hardest thing for me is to admit that this is so easy and joyful for me that I’d get on buses just to sit next to someone to see one small part of a life turn around, a brightness, a bounce, a stunned or contemplative look, maybe an aura of joy, before one of us reaches our stop. An addictive time sensitive game. I wouldn’t do it in pursuit of just a smile. Smiles are like snow flakes. Unless my victim hasn’t smiled in a decade. Then, they’ll be smiling when they step off the bus. That would be a win.

The other, and more terribly hard thing for me about thing is the awkwardness of charging of people for a gift that feels kinda magical cuz describing how it’s done in unimaginable and duplicating it is dead.

Also, what if I commit to help, and gasp! charge, and then the genie that actually does all the work doesn’t show up!?

I fear. No, dread and deal dead having to do the same thing every day. I know there’s no magic or future for me in attempting rote magic production. Yet, for some irrational reason I can’t stop feeling it’s to be my fate if I dare put my name out there to get paid for this.

I have this fear of ending up like the farmer’s daughter. The one who got locked in a cellar after her father boasted that she could spin straw into gold. She gets locked up and cornered into weaving more straw into gold, every night. Suck might happen to me too, till I end up promising my soul and my firstborn to to Rumplestilskin. Letting people who are counting on me down is just as terrifying.

I guess when you live in a magical world you have fairytale fears. And just because it doesn’t exist, doesn’t mean I don’t keep backing away from some invisible thing in my imagination.

I need someone like me to help me out. I’m dang good at helping folks kick imaginary shit they’ve been backing away from’s ass.

So?

Where am I when I need me?

What You Don’t Know You Believe Can Hurt You

And why I adore dialogue with you on here.

Your insight is dramatically helpful in the monumental process that is a story teller turnings shame into vulnerability.

Your points give a clear much needed out for when us writers doubt what we are really doing.

We need this way out of our maze of fear and lies we believe feel and react to. Believing I’m exposing my friends makes me feel defensive and small like a weasel. I often suspect myself of something that makes me just like a

Writing a good story is big work.

It’s heavy lifting to process reality into an uplifting story that makes sense and creates meaning and change.

Figuring out how we got out of a tricky spot and how and why we succeeded who and what where the problems and what we learned worked or works is an art. Sharing it is brave.

Finding a way out of lives that won’t bring joy or flow properly no matter what you do or hide is priceless.

I think your points do something to help bring my personal imagination out of the bone yard. A place where I feel like I’m betraying and hurting rather than helping. Hurting isn’t my nature. So I feel paralyzed. So, I fight back.

tabloid producer and accuse myself mercilessly. So I figure the whole world is gonna see me like what I am, some Rita Skeeter, that horrid witch reporter for The Daily Prophet let’s her magical green feather pen stretch butcher and molest the truth about Harry Potter and his friends without a spark of conscience. She’s one of my least favorite fictional characters, ever. So, I’m ready and on the offensive and the defensive, when just like Rita Skeeter, I make this crap up about myself. Then, like the annoying Wizarding community I go and believe the whole thing.

So, then I’m defensive as heck.

I am not like Rita Skeeter!

While I am the only one in this “conversation”.

Only trouble: I wonder if all great writers must have this stupid “conversation” and find a way to end it every time and move forward.

You’re list did something lots of books on writing I’ve read didn’t do.

I’m not sure what it is, but I feel a little bit quenched. In a good way. : )

All the best writers write about what they know with a terrific purpose that’s got nothing to do with exposing their friends. For me, its It’s about helping myself. My friends are part of my life, and lots of what I learned is from my not-so -friendlies. What else is there to write about? How else than to tell my own experience of myself and how my friend’s and family’s crap has affected them and me and the rest of us?

But “Who do you think you are to judge you big meany!?” Still needs to be dealt with regularly. It’s gotta be dealt with. I have to do it. And I have to do it regularly, the way some other professionals have to build up their confidence regularly.

I believe the majority of great story tellers, have to do this. And your words are helping me now. And maybe, it’ll never get as bad as Rita without me knowing where the attack is coming from again.

I wonder if my inner critic identified with a sensationalist tabloid producer. I feel aversion to. I don’t know anything about tabloid writers, and don’t consider them great, or story tellers.

I guess I feel like they are infections. When we are not immune the rest of us wonder if we are also being paid to be contagious pernicious judgey gossips with no right to feel good about our calling.

Huh. I just realized something.

I guess I haven’t figured this out. I don’t know any sensationalist gossip writers at all. Not one person I know thinks I’m that way either.

I just realized. Me trying to avoid being that way is ludicrous. I spin in that cycle rather than just realizing I am not that way. Huh.

Well.

There’s really nothing to talk about.

Note: May get permission to use the points that sparked this. Gotta post my response there first and see if I am nuts after all.

The Settling Into One Moment

Being just here

Right here

Now

Not there

Or hooked in the book

No waiting

Watching myself wearing this body

Feeling my body wear me

Cool solid air settles around me

I feel it breathing in

Touch my skin velvety moment

Where I touch this chair

Being here where chair

Holds the floor

Feels like myself

Remembering

Always like being a sun

Ephemeral as being a chair

Then, surprise!

Some curry arrives

A newborn moment becomes me

Savaged by beauty and taste

The universe in a smell

Re-Living the Glory Days

Or, How “writing” yourself into a resume pins you down and wraps you into a neat tied up package.

How to Not Be a Pre-Wrapped Deliverable.

 

RIP Resume Waywardspirit

It’s that “resume” part of jobbing I wanna elbow the hell aside, punch out then tear past whooping.

I feel myself speed out of the stupor of conformity into the real, whatever it really is.

The thought of that octupussy pandora’s trap makes my skin crawl. That squirmy zombie octopus has a super power possessing shadow side. 

It’s designing dangerous and only alive in the insidious way all deadly systems are alive.

It’s, not natural.

It’s not actually alive. And it’s not part of the beauty of the ocean. It’s a monster.  

It’s the sweet lost ghosts of distant past I grew out of. Memories. Fantoms meant to predict the future. When they don’t.

It’s the past with it’s claws dug into my future’s neck. It pins down what’s alive and chokes it into zombie hood.

 

Thee looming boredom of repeating the past hurts my soul’s teeth like scraping them slowly all the way down that familiar chalkboard. 

Designing my own restrictions trying to do again what I did well before takes me back to being naughty.

“No go pick me a willow to spank you with.” 

 

You’re seven. 

You are supposed to be choosing the stinging green willow branch to whip red marks onto the backs of your bare legs.

This ends as it begins. Like writing a resume.

 

 I’d rather go put on some stipper shoes. 

A Future

What is it?

Can’t Touch This If You Don’t Game

youtu.be/KKmNei4CwiM

How to Get Invited Back

How do you get invited back?

Here’s a skill that works for every one every time.

Well, every time unless you talk 90 and listen 10. In that case there’s nothing can save you.

Wanna know how to get invited back if you also know how to listen?

Want lots of people to notice when you show up?

It’s simple.

Here’s how: Bring The Salsa!

Not just any old salsa. The Salsa. Don’t even think I’m talking about any random you snatch up on the way last minute to not show up empty handed, “salsa”.

Not this or that restaurant recipe works real magic either.

Whatever jar of chunky tomato matter off the shelf–even the gourmet brand you’re thinking–of has no relation to this discussion.

Most homemade salsas aren’t secret weapons either.

This here is the secret weapon.

This and a bag of chips will have people calling ahead to see if you’ve arrived yet.

It’s not expensive. It’s love.

It’s also simple.

After years of getting asked: How do make that amazing salsa you brought? And me telling, showing, and writing it on scraps or on napkins or note paper or texting it. I also wrote it in cards as a gift, and shared it with guests; I finally wrote it down again. This time after texting it for the fifth time to one of my nieces. She urgenly requests it when she needs to make a splash. I finally just wrote it out by hand and snapped a picture to send out as needed just this morning–For good.

Cuz last night Rachel, that’s my niece, requested it and I sent the tips and secrets to her in seven texts. ”Remember to not add water!” kind of texts.

So, I finally wrote the whole thing clearly after lots of try’s and wads of crumpled paper. Bonus– I got to use my new fountain pen for something special.

I just texted a shot of this written-down-for-the-first-time salsa recipe to my sister Sasha. She’s one who let’s me know when and where she’s gonna be and reminds me how much she loves my salsa and how she hopes…Every time she visits from LA.

And no, she can’t get salsa this amazing at even the best Mexican restaurant. What’s worse, she thinks this particular salsa is an enigma and only I can work it out.

A minute after I send her this recipe she responds:

”Is that how you make the best salsa in the world?”

Yep. That’s how I do it.

Sasha isn’t a bad cook herself.

But with this magic salsa, God is in the details. So is good taste.

That’s all.

Follow the directions. Without substituting garlic salt or canned tomatoes as unless you’re good with seeing your friends eyes glaze over. The universal sign of broken dreams. If you can’t get fresh ingredients delivered, just say your you didn’t hide it well enough and your other friends, kids, siblings found it. They will be incensed and feel cheated, but they’ll understand. Careful to blame it on characters they’re not likely to meet socially like the dog, no Santa, it can get awkward when they call out your presumably innocent roommate for ruining that one party.

Do it right.

Then stand back and watch your friends crowd around the dip bowls and all conversation go silent till the salsa runs out.

And “Where’s the Salsa?” replaces conversation.

Is there any more of this guac?” becomes the topic. It leads to serous inquiries. Don’t be alarmed by the determined expressions of the those inquiring into where that salsa came from. Be ready when inquiries lead back to you.

Remember you’re not responsible for all the people who didn’t get some. How they feel when everyone who got some won’t stop bragging isn’t your fault.

Bragging about the best damn salsa they ever tasted, and too bad for you it’s gone, is a natural human reaction to being on the winning side.

All you can do is promise to double the recipe next time.

See. That’s it. Next time. You’re in.

The word speeds fast. You’ll be asked around so you can pick and choose.

This magic only works made fresh.

If you can pull this off and all is going smooth and your ready to up your game Upgrade your salsa.

For just a few dollars more you can turn the Best Salsa in the World to the best Guacamole in the Word.

All it takes is two or three ripe Hass Avocados cubed or smashed and lightly folded into some or all of the salsa.

The effects though blow every ones’ taste buds. So save it for when you really want the attention.

Be advised though. Once you upgrade prepared to stay upgraded. Or people will start wondering if you really do love them after all.

Shortcut:

Tomatoes can be blackened and peppers blackened and peeled and in advance and refrigerated for up to three days.

No Shortcut:

Garlic paste and especially avocado only happen fresh.

This salsa makes unknown numbers of people show up to parties who otherwise wouldn’t. It starts conversation, facilitates connection and keeps friends coming together. So it keeps friendships growing and community strong.

Warning:

Friends will call to ask if there’s still guacamole.

No? We’ll see you time then.

That’s just one of the risks of a community run on your salsa.

The advantages though are immense.

Hence this is my contribution to world peace.

It can not be mass produced.

Only you can bring it. Fresh for your friends.

Next people will try bottling friendship.

This recipe’s also linked up like network marketing.

Every time you bring salsa or guacamole joy to your friends I score.

I accumulate them karmic points off your efforts. I’m sure they are added up somewhere.

So get out there roast, peel, smash smoosh and serve up some happiness-with chips.

Make me rich!

Oh, and world peace and all that too…

Where Are You?

 

Where am I?

We walk in here just to be lied to. You walk in here bravely desiring to be taken in. To be caught in an exciting lie. We hope to get spun into an excellent yarn.

blurred-background-couple-daytime-1232019

 

He wants to be transported into a fantasy.
She delights in the romance. We seek rapture.
o be captivated.
To be danced to. To be danced.

Where are we?

Book
Club?

Strip
Club?

What do you think?

apple.news/ATly9SjHNTeWA1bZGBa4lzQ

How Do You Define A New Life?

What’s so good?

sketchguru_20160417231843.jpg

 

What do I do?
Here I am updating my LinkedIn profile, and back to being twelve. 

I feel like my kid-self gushing to my kid sister:
Look what I can do!
See what I just did?

Her forehead wrinkles.
Her eyes drain.  She cocks her brow.
Her chin turns up and her mouth turns down.
She looks away. Then turns back with a disinterest and 
that tone.
Her and LinkedIn, both.

What have you been doing for the last few years?

Yes. And?
What’s so good about that?
Oh yeah?
So?
So what?
Yeah. But, what’s so good?

LinkedIn’s haughty smug questionnaires are a different kind of third degree.
Why, only that?
That doesn’t answer the question.
From when to when, and what exactly?

How does that add up?

I’m painting myself into a corner. My instinct is to back away from these intimidating forms trying to get me to trim myself down into a formula.

What are your accomplishments?

Even if I had been working at a conventional job for the past few years, I still wouldn’t up-sale my heroic accomplishments like most guys would.
I’d still be down-playing my worth and value like as many woman do.

What have you been doing for the last few years?

Do you really wanna know?

I didn’t think so.

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Mother’s Day Blues And Pinks

My Heart Could Turn This Whole Lake Blue

It’s my cracked dilapidated heart that’s been crumbling for two decades. And it’s about my kids.
Years ago their father permanently spirited my two oldest daughters away to Mexico. They were two and four, then. So, they didn’t get to have a mother.
My youngest daughter is with me, but she isn’t with her father or sisters.
That was after my baby son died. e’s okay. But I was never quite.


And here I was year after year trying to compensate for all the love, attention and things, this, my one kid left, has been missing out on. While at the same time, I’ve consistently missed my exiled daughters. Then, of course, there’s that ache where a baby is suppose to be. That doesn’t improve matters.

It’s twenty years later. My two Mexico girls grew up. Without me.
We got in touch, after all these years. They are okay. However, they’re totally convinced that I abandoned them. So, all the abandonment, loneliness, and other miseries they suffered are totally my fault. Every bit of it. I won’t go into just how totally innocent their father is right now.
For my part. Rather than helping this, my one kid left, to focus on growing strong, overcoming, and going after what she needs and and doesn’t have, I focused on protecting her. So, I am pretty responsible for some of the stuff she blames me for.

So, right now, only my son isn’t pissed at me for Mother’s Day.

Now that I recognize my same-old-crap behavior patterns from my shitty-old-relationship, I notice that my kids are on the same direct course to where I’ve been.
It’s terrifying to witness.
Yet.
Do I regret my life?
No.
They probably won’t regret theirs either.

So why not just be happy?
Now.
Already.

 

Hello Friends!

I missed you guys!
Each of you
Here, creating without me
I’ve missed a lot

Here I am everyone!
Piecing a writing life
Together
From scratch
Again

Wish me luck : )

Social Space

In the emptiness

Between us

Betweenness

Playing with Colors Again

My hands and eyes

Both missed

The color yellow feel

On my finger skin

Brush, canvas

And painted within

Feelings’ Faces

The face

Of this sadness

Joy in profile

Tears streaming

In color

Peek out

Of the wall

Chocolate Darkness

When darkness is thick

Creamy and sweet

Your tongue is alive

It climbs up your feet

All wrapped in the moment

A being of taste

Is it what you are now

From what you have faced?

Self-Potrait

Each thing I do
Gets done in me
What I make up
It marks me up
Each choice I make
Is colored paint
My palette is my day
Skillfuly blended
Chosen colors
Artfully painted
Or just mixed up
I make me
Anyway

Bring Your Blog To the Patio

This deed is final
WordPress? She won
As I upload a pict
She jumps the gun
It’s too late to shout
That post’s not done!

Who knows what I was gonna do with this picture. Could have been anything.

Colors in the Air

 

I wish my hands

Could paint the sky

The way my mind

Will always try

abstract art blur bright
Photo by Ryan McGinty on Pexels.com

Come Word

Let the world

Come to me

A coin flip of traveling

Sweet home Airbnb

The Painted Door

Green nice
Let me see
Oh,
Orange!
Show me
Please

Come in
Through
The color of
Fresh squeezed
Fruit

This Something

 

It fills you full of wonderful

Even when it hurts

Sometimes it doesn’t

Then sometimes it works

 

 

 

Hello There Ms Week

It’s a Weeks work

So here I sit

Waiting happy

For

The Week to do it

Drink?

wpid-1348151449157.jpg

 

This elixir of fortune
That coffee of fate
A whiskey of accident
Territory of your story
Drink it now or wait?

It Just Happens

The Wayward Spirit

By

M. L. Redford

the wayward spirit wafts in
through the window when the patterns of weeks, months passed, at last,

let go and shift
she moves about the room like Franny Glass making one or two things

flutter a bit, and is gone
out past the opposite shoulder as I turn in to see what I hear

to notice things
in the room which were always there but hadn’t been noticed for weeks

or maybe months
and which had obviously been there for a purpose, staring through the books

on the shelf to find
a forgotten bookmark, an absent fold, maybe a latterdaymexicanpink

autumnal ritual –
seven parts revelationinitiation and fifteen parts flutterbybestowal –

curiouser and curiouser
are the ways of the spirit: if I follow, will I flutter, will I perch or will I fall?

either way I’ll find
the pink of gist and need to meditate before I waft or get stolen

but the spirit talks
of grounding, without talking, for she is no airy/faeree: the meaning disappears

the more you look
but in looking at the unfindability you discover all the meaning for to see:

body, soul and beauty
but no room at the inn for language, ‘you can speak a hundred languages

if you want but
you’re never as wise as the illiterate who speaks with love in her heart’

she says, without a single word
but thought of a hundred languages smaller than the stars which float away;

the language of Waywarduese
butterflies about all over the points, and all of those points held

in one wing-spread,
colourful and puckering hold, sprinkled and dlappled like rain

Oh!
Can I have it?
Is it for me?
It’s for me?
It’s for me!
It’s Mine!
You stole it from me!
I’ll be generous and
share it with you
if you let me keep it.
Please

blue green orange and red rainbow design decoration
Photo by Ghost Presenter on Pexels.com

Have You Ever Gotten Lured Into A Disqus Discussion?

 

person looking searching clean
Photo by Gratisography on Pexels.com

 

I just did.

I Just got lured by a Disqus discussion…

Question that trapped me?

You won’t belive it. I didn’t.

Since I spent all my writing time on Disqus tonight I have no choice but to horrify you with my unsuspected wayward answer to that pirate question.

Here goes.

Question:

What home appliance has helped you most?

That’s when my answer surprised me.

 
Air conditioning, and refrigerator.
No, refrigerator and then air conditioning, that’s what I thought at first.

But then I remembered.
The rest of what appliances to you can hire someone else to do for you.
But you can’t hire someone to keep you cool or keep your food from rotting.
And a fireplace can keep you warm in winter and sorta cook your food.

Oh dang. That’s not the question though is it?

Don’t we, all of us take appliances for granted?

No, we all don’t.
I don’t.

I’ve roughed it for years with no appliances and I know just what it feels like.

I got stuck “pioneering” for about seven years on a ranch in the middle of the Sonora desert in Mexico when I was kinda young and child labour was a thing.

You get used to being hot as hell, all day and all night. You get used to cooking over a fire or on a makeshift stove. You get used to washing your own and everyone else’s dishes in a split oil barrel. Even cooking over another shape of the ubiquitous 50 gallon drum, wasn’t so bad.

Using your own hand or your parter, that’s an adventure a small hand held appliance doesn’t do justice to. I didn’t know about that then though. But scrubbing embedded mud off of piles of greasy jeans, that feel like leather in your hands.

You lean over the wash tub or a taller cement version, called a lavadero if you are super lucky, and move up and down rubbing the garment over across the washboard.  You are all bent over, till your back burns and aches.

So, you just started on this fluffy queen size quilt that you need several people to help to wring out. You are just stretching your back  into shape again, I used to imagine Plastic Man going back to his human shape, and letting the burning subside for a seconds. That little break is great, but that’s when the acrid smell of the weeks worth of soaking baby diapers reminds you of that feeling you are going to get when you put your hands into the slimy freezing water to grab a slimy diaper and wiggle that last bit of poop off it. That is when desperation overwhelmed you even before you snatch the slimy thing out and start wringing the nasty water out, before you even start rubbing it with the big pink bar of Zote, then scrub the hell out of it for as long as it takes.

Once you are scrubbing, its mind numbing endless repetition, diaper after diaper, but getting in there is the hardest part. I’d take them all out at once so I didn’t have to reach back into the pail. That was the part that still gives me the yucky-shivers.
That is a red-knuckled, chapped handed, broken blistered palms nightmare that goes on and on and you get all wet. It takes all day.

Your week is ruined just from thinking about it.

You never do learn the way the local woman scrub mud covered dirty stained rags into bright clean shirts, and emerge with softly calloused fine hands that don’t bleed.
When I got back from my expat adventure, I went back to school in Texas. To save money since I lived on a grim student budget, I opened windows and turned on a fan not the AC.
I didn’t even once consider washing clothes by hand, though. I would have skimped on our meager food first.

Instead, I collected scarce quarters for the laundromat, and washed three enormous one whites one coloreds one darks, every two ore three weeks, in the commercial washers, till I got an old used washer.

Okay, okay, I saved money again, for several more years after that and spared the environment, too by hanging laundry on a clothesline in summer months. I still do it. Sun brightens whites and bleaches out organic stains, plus there’s the fresh breezy smell garden smell, that lingers on the clothes and feels like home, not perfume. But no, I freaken never ever ever washed or scrubbed clothes by hand again.
I love washers!
I heard there is a new one that doesn’t ever break down. That you can buy when you get married and leave to your kids in your will, and it will do the same for them. I want that one!
I think it’s a new type of Speed Queen. Anyone know if this is true?
If it is, is there also a legendary refrigerator and AC system with that kind of reputation that anyone knows of?

The two next in line:
Real badass AC and refrigerator I can get that’s not just marketing hyped.
On a lighter cosmopolitan note, the bread machine and crock-pot are two of my three best little friends.

What home appliance has helps me most?

I know the truth about this. It’s the washer.

The Wayward Spirit

the wayward spirit wafts in
                through the window when the patterns of weeks, months passed, at last,

let go and shift
                she moves about the room like Franny Glass making one or two things

flutter a bit, and is gone
                out past the opposite shoulder as I turn in to see what I hear

to notice things
                in the room which were always there but hadn’t been noticed for weeks

or maybe months
                and which had obviously been there for a purpose, staring through the books

on the shelf to find
                a forgotten bookmark, an absent fold, maybe a latterdaymexicanpink

autumnal ritual –
                seven parts revelationinitiation and fifteen parts flutterbybestowal –                                              

curiouser and curiouser
                are the ways of the spirit: if I follow, will I flutter, will I perch or will I fall?

either way I’ll find
                the pink of gist and need to meditate before I waft or get stolen

but the spirit talks
                of grounding, without talking, for she is no airy/faeree: the meaning disappears

the more you look
                but in looking at the unfindability you discover all the meaning for to see:

body, soul and beauty
                but no room at the inn for language, ‘you can speak a hundred languages

if you want but
                you’re never as wise as the illiterate who speaks with love in her heart’

she says, without a single word
                but thought of a hundred languages smaller than the stars which float away;

the language of Waywarduese
                butterflies about all over the points, and all of those points held

in one wing-spread,
                colourful and puckering hold, sprinkled and dlappled like rain

                                Oh!
                                Can I have it?
                                Is it for me?
                                It’s for me?
                                It’s for me!
                                It’s Mine!
                                You stole it from me!
                                I’ll be generous and
                                share it with you
                                if you let me keep it.
                                Please

Anthony de Melo is Real

Amanda Palmer at TED

Letter To An Artist

LeClown,

Now I see why you are so devoted to creating a place in the world for misfits and artists. Artists, so often known for being mentally unstable weirdos, still need the safe space to create and mostly don’t find one. Now you are creating a safe place, a narrative to live in, a dream for us. So we can continue to keep our world beautiful and full of meaning.

Why though? Why are you doing it?

Your life depends on it, too. That’s why.

Now I get how each artists’ live depends on it. My life depends on it. The good life as we know it does, too. Without knowing it, the whole world depends on it, since art is our collective soul.

It’s that, or something else vital, and indescribable, to our collective being that cannot be replaced. Artists’ can’t be replaced with not artist or with AI.  Our highly sensitive people can’t be replaced. The world can’t do without them either. We artists are different. That’s as it should be. How else would we make a difference?

You show a warrior’s strength and a poet’s vulnerability when you share your heartbreaking story. Now, I understand the terrible impact your artist father’s ways had on you, and the pain his choices caused you. I get how hard such stories are to revisit, redefine and retell like you are doing in a way that recreates the world for you. A world safer for artists.

I personally appreciate your coming through for me like this, because just knowing that you, Sarah, Black Box Warnings, and company exist makes me stronger and my artist stock soar. It’s giving me the greatest imaginable value – a sense of community.

I feel safer in the world than I did before hearing your story of seeing your father through new eyes. Your story allowed me see the world through my own broken artist father’s eyes.

Even if we are not in the same community, you sorta replaced the American dream with a dream that includes artists like Martin Luther King included all free black people in his dream. Your dream includes me, and dreams create our world.

That irreplaceable precious sense of having a place in the world where your work matters that your father and my father did not get to feel, come into being when your story changed my heart.  Just like millions of the children of ex-slaves and slave holders never experienced a balanced world, yet caught MLK’s dream and held it, I caught your dream. It holds me.
You are changing the world for all of us. You, and the community around you are building artists a better world by speaking out.
You are doing priceless work. The emotional support you offer as a gift and invite the community to offer with you is irreplaceable and magnificent. Air force helicopters would never see that.
I figure, you and Sarah would enjoy, TED’s The Eight Foot Bride or Amanda Fucking Palmer. She is like you, in the way she redefines the world for artists in a surprising, hilarious, whimsical, irresistible way. Enjoy.

There.
Truce is over.

Your Magnificence will soon be mine!
Waywardspirit

Strong Wind

In

Your eye

Swirling

Tumbling down

Your heart

Around me

Take a breath

Of me

Strong Wind

Gentle fingers

Safety

My lover

The Wind

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Where Have All The Madmen Gone?

Out of Synch
Out of synch madness

 

Lost opportunities
Missed people
To avoid
Out of art’s mind
Mis-fitted driven mad
Beauty un-enjoyed

Curated eyes delighted edges
Whom seek unseen art
Deprive a brocken world again
Already locked apart
Of crazy is insane

In Synch Madness Waywardspirit Art

Done for the Day Way

Will it feel
This way
In the end
When
I’m done for every day?

 

 

image

Evolution Loves Me!

I’m alive

I’ve evolved

Often I feel

Selected

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Working

 

 

The very best about this post?
The comments
Any day
The twist in ‘”they”
That “they” created
Commenting away

 

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Join !

 

 

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Newspaper

Whom is The Paper

What is such News?

If it were you

Read over coffee

Dunking the world

What kind of maniac would you be too?

4k-wallpaper-abstract-abstract-expressionism-12668081

Newspaper

Stairway

Stairway

to heaven

Stairway

From hell

It’s about

Were you start

Or how far

You fell

 

Quick

Your body quickens
That laughter in the bone
What fun?!
The funny one

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Lofty

A grown-up’s tooth fairy
If
Life bludgeons you
She
Takes your money
Then
Gives you
Back
A tooth

 

green and white denture toy
Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

Drink

The elixir of fortune
The coffee of fate
Whiskey of accident
Territory of your story
Drink it now or wait

Symbiosis

The simple symbiosis
Of the body and the soul
Pierces purple meaningless
From now to long ago

Ordinary

Ordinary breath
Ordinary tears
Ordinary almost everything
Where extraordinary veers

Each Story

The long road
To acceptance
The symptoms
On the way
It’s what
A life is
Made of
The stuff
Of every day

A Person

Use up your luck
Engaging no stress
Surrounded by controversy
Conquer the labels
Be a thing

Cell in a Body

I immerse myself
In the massive instinct
The record of the massive
Instinct of human change

Self Organizing Systems

You watch murmuration of starlings
Turn dusk into a kaleidoscope
Who watches the murmuration of humans
Organize and dance to a word you spoke

art dying heart Waywardspirit

Pattern

That hidden pattern
In every part
Of game of life
Of soul of art

Choices

When Evolution
Worries
Gets nervous
What calms
Fears and
Her nerves?

 

Ruminate

The bigger I
May ruminate
On me
The one
The incarnate

Inner Sweet

Crystalline honey bees
Swarm in me
Buzzing vivid desires
Fierce yellow flies away
In green bright light
To parlay with yellow flowers

Tools

Sometimes Doubt
A useful tool
Like pliars
A hammer
To use

Feel the Moment Glow

 

abstract art blur bright
Photo by Ryan McGinty on Pexels.com

 

Hesitate to wonder
Feel the moment glow
Never to be repeated
You will always know

Ask the Invisible You

Animal quicken
Aware of being
The more complex
The more fun to
The invisible you

Mystery

Arid center
Spark of life
Intelligence
From what?
Conscious why?

Jiggle

It happens to me
It jiggles my soul
In six ways I’m free
But mostly it’s stole

Context

When I slur
Your name
Baby
It could mean
Anything
Baby

Rhythmic

These pulses charm
My body like a snake
The music’s in control
Dancing is my fate

Hideout

Hide out
Look around
Feel the earth move
Inner sound

Glitter

Map my whole world in glitter
It’s days of bright eyes seeing
The rising heat of every heart
Those crashing waves of brains atwitter

Blur

Translate this juicy blur
Of pristine seconds
Minutes that somehow were
Gone and here forever

Entitled

I’m here
So do I squat
In this body?
Or what?

Alive

The sound of expectation
Purring in my chest
Thrill beaming out my face
Swish of secret breath
My body feasts on being
Laughter in my step

Bubbles

Entering the current
Slipping into being
Surrendering to darkness
Fin instead of wing
Liquid silver flying
Seriousness washed in dream

Content

Lush and lukewarm
A cheap hotel room
Hours shuffle along
A familiar radio song

Glimpse

When the first chill
Of fall cool air
Drys my sweat
I am aware
I am the sky
I am the world
I am everywhere

Comedy

I’m greedy for intimacy
To see with story eyes
My folly set in funny scenes
I laugh not criticize

 

Heard

Cool silent wind blowing
Swishing through my mind
Stirring neuron branches
Letting them entwine

Big Change

Tremble in the chill
For a kiss
At a birth or
Overcome with fear

Hand Crafted Moment

Hands recognize
Eyes forbid
Feelings consent
Crafting your sighs

Lovingly

The knife of life
Lovingly carves
My hart
Into art

Own

I own
A million overwhelming
Angles in my life
This twisted
That broken
It slightly might
Light up
With all that is

Out of Sync

Clean

I’m editing my life
For twists
For readability
For clarity
All clean
Without removing
Character and
The dirt I mean

Belonging

Play with me
In this belonging dream
Were no one’s actually free
Weather you flow or resist
The sweetest meaning ripens
In the plot twist

Scent

Howling
I follow the scent
My dream
Hunting killing sharing
Becoming a complex being

Game

Filter out each being
Select wee dabs of each
Set strict limits
Adjust needs
See how far you reach

Ten

To be a friend
To write my own way
Have meaningful conversations
Frequent deep play
To publish
To skate
To tell a new story
Get to sashay
Spend time alone
Worship today

Simple

Simple
Complex
Ravenous
Satisfied
Berated
Unfathomable
Gotten
Glorified

To Lose

Worlds get built
Off devastation
Sweet lives get spun
From loss
I find the best
Part of a story
To win when
It’s a toss

Plans

When I planned
My life adventure
Did I do it right?
Was all this heck
Weaved in on purpose
Or was this
An oversight?

Successful

Ride a lifetime
You designed
Twisted terrifying
Till redefined