Mind Your Step Questing Child
From Universal Sea
To the drop
The whole ocean
That’s me
I get to be
Alive as a human
Salty, drop of everything
Tag: Life
UX Design
The best UX design is invisible.
The design supports what needs to happen so well with ease and flow so you forget this was ever impossible or difficult. Now that it’s designed and built this way never have to think about it. It becomes clear, simply, perhaps rote and ubiquitous. The better the design, the more you forget it’s even there. Must be why, how, whatever, the Creator is so invisible.
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1 pictures
A Momentous Victory Day!
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The, the, the, the Mystery!
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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
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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
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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?
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Giving Life this Look Again
Looking at your day
Like a baybe
You know, but you can’t say
Anything sweet might happen, maybe
Expect it anyway
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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?
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Pay Grade Above
Ain’t my concern
Where or when or how
Life unfolds
I dream smiling dreams
Smiling, I allow
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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
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One Evolution
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Watched Pot
Never boils?
So,
Expands time
The universe
Deepens an eternal moment
Opens up Life
And everything
Watch a pot
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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?
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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.
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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
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Spirit of What
At first
When the Night
She woke me up
Insomnia, the worst
And not delight
Outburst
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Skills
Brunette
Blonde
Redhead
What do
You know
Is there in the pattern?
For you
Are you aware?
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Life as Artist
Life sketches us out
We live-in the color
Aqua blue
Shows laughter
To me
What shows it to you?
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Follow Your Nose
I captured it for you like this
Here, smell it!
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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Your Story
What’s the first line
of that book
you’re writing
with this door
the hinges probably whine
on the cover?
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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!
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A Mountain or a Gift?
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Found a Clue on the Net
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Don’t You Wonder?
So, when you see
Medusa girl and me
Do you wonder
How much fun
Your hair
Could mayhap
Be?
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Evolution of Athena
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…
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Out or In?
Explore introspection
Maybe there’s vast blue
Endless and eternal
In the other direction?
Too
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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
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Stairway on the Inside
The stairway to heaven
Mine anyway ,
Is right here
Where I meditate
Heaven can’t
Everything else
That can be bought
Can wait
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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
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Some Things Don’t Change
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Day Follows Night
Woke up in the night
Suddenly
Expecting all I choose
To come out right
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Way of Life
Wrapping up night
Unfolding day
I don’t help
At all
I relax
The whole way
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Living Dawn
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A Thing Alive?
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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
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Tilt the world any way
Sideways or upside down
Dance on it anyway
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What Cares and Watches?
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The Banjo is Mightier than the Sword
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A Way to Life a Whole Life
Practice
A practice of flying
Good as any other
Way of life
Every moment
Signifying
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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
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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
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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!
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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
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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?
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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!
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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
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“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
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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
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Planes of Existence
Where in here
I wanna know
Do my favorite times
In life that never happened
Go?
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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
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Poetry Pharmacy
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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!
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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Tingleladies
Are a thing
You ask
What are these magical beings!?
Don’t ask me
Ask your imaginarium
You see what it brings
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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
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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
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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
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Silver Alchemist Says
Yeah if our alchemy can
Turn white to pink and pink to red
Heck! That’s plenty man
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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
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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
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A Shaman Says
Hang the moon
Hang the moon
Then grab it!
Way of the trickster
Wisdom of the rabbit
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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
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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
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Is-ness
This is-ness
Is
Is
Is
Some prism thingy
Rainbow
What was just light
To Thisness
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“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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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Color? Really?
Can you
Try
Please
Try
To think of
Anything
Just anything stupider
To divide us by?
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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
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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
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Human Plants
We seem to look
Human
While behaving
More like plants look
-Nothing alike
Still
To the core
Humans
Like plants
Buncha weirdos
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Having Some Good Now Lately!
Having some wonderful now these days
Some wonderful wonderful magical now
Now now now
Now
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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
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If
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
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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
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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
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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
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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!
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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Crisp to the Soul
The feeling
Of a clear crisp babbling stream
Cuz everything’s clean
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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
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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
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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
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Life of a Story
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
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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?
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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.
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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What’s This?
I feel hot lava thrill and thrall
Sweet upflow to my heart
Just before you reach out
When we are apart
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The Velveteen Rabbit
The flights of fancy
I turn real when I muse
Is it a nightmare
Or a dream
That I choose?
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UX Life
I pay attention
To this gift I get
Then I tweak the worlds
With it
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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
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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?
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The Moment When You Know
I adore you
All you
Things I wanna do!
Oh! Ohh ohhhhh!
Oh,
So…
You adore me too!
Oh
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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
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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?
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Maybe
Evil is the error part of this ongoing trial and error.
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?
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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
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Real Programmer
Choose the brightness
Focus
Then pick what to see
Interpret the finger of the Wind
Select
Command
Believe
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Instruments
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.
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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
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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
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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
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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.
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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…
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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.
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Haha
www.instagram.com/p/B2b2nQFB7r9/
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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.
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.
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What is it?
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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…
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How Do You Define A New Life?
What’s so good?
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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Feelings’ Faces
The face
Of this sadness
Joy in profile
Tears streaming
In color
Peek out
Of the wall
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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?
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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
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The Painted Door
Green nice
Let me see
Oh,
Orange!
Show me
Please
Come in
Through
The color of
Fresh squeezed
Fruit
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This Something
It fills you full of wonderful
Even when it hurts
Sometimes it doesn’t
Then sometimes it works
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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
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Have You Ever Gotten Lured Into A Disqus Discussion?
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.
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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
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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
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Cell in a Body
I immerse myself
In the massive instinct
The record of the massive
Instinct of human change
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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
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Inner Sweet
Crystalline honey bees
Swarm in me
Buzzing vivid desires
Fierce yellow flies away
In green bright light
To parlay with yellow flowers
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Ask the Invisible You
Animal quicken
Aware of being
The more complex
The more fun to
The invisible you
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Big Change
Tremble in the chill
For a kiss
At a birth or
Overcome with fear
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Hand Crafted Moment
Hands recognize
Eyes forbid
Feelings consent
Crafting your sighs
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Successful
Ride a lifetime
You designed
Twisted terrifying
Till redefined
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That Thing
Is the thing
That thing
That manages
The paths of stars
Every baby being made
The weather currents
Each flower blooming
Ever overworked?
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Life’s Aesthetic
Seeing beauty
Feeling beauty
May be a skill
To any and all
Circumstances
Assign beauty
At will
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Relationship
Exquisite moment
Tender deceit
Open hearted
Trust
Surrender
Not defeat
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Never Boring
Uneven emotions
Crookedly cut
Uneven days
My life has whipped up
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Small Things
Quiet
Treat
Sweet
Retreat
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Way of Life
Every moment tender
Every breath
A bounty
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A Way of Life
Mystica forces
Gently engaged
Mystical waves
Lived unexplained
Mystical Moments
Secretly known
Mystical days
May always unfold
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The Life that is my life
I protest this life
I asked for
In my longing dreams
Life knows more
About my life
Than me
It seems
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Fullness of Life
The flavor
In my mind
Pungent sweet
Divine
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Anticipation
The
Expectation of good
Trusting Life to deliver
More than just food
Joy in a shiver
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Magic Foot Forward
The whimsical
The mystical
The exceptional
Me
Take turns living
Life with the other
Three
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From Coffee to Wine
The heat of time
Ingredients of experience
Percolates
The water of a soul
Into something
Flavorful
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Inner Workings
Or what?
The body asks
The soul
What then?
A story
Gets told
We believe it
To go on
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Is Life Alive
Is Life alive?
Does she smile
Is Life in the air
Coming to life
In breath
Primping
In sunshine
While being
The sun
Share this:
Worlds Without End
Bridge your heart
And mind
Playing to unwind
Then make the art
That brakes apart
The Universe defined
waywardspirit 