or is it 555?
Maybe 111, 222, 333, 666, 777. or the joy of painting?
Made it 7 seven days, a record, and utterly failed in changing the thoughts…
shit.
damn.
Keep the brush moving or it will stop.
Take the almighty brush and swirl.
Avoid a pattern.
Alive.
Little things happening.
Everywhere.
Don’t take it out, mix it up, stir it up.
and that’s how a crayon picture clinging to life with a magnet on a refrigerator comes to life.
So load it up.
Load up the paint.
Let the paint play in the sky.
The air in the room where she sat before a computer
and then she had my heart for dessert
It was a hot Summer day. The thermometer said it was a good day to seek the cool comfort of shade and the people listened, scurrying to shade and relief.
Inside a store there she sat. Beautiful. Dressed in alluring attire designed to turn eyes towards her direction.
A humming sound came from her. Was it the tune of happiness? Maybe it was part of the attire designed to attract the attention of friend, family, stranger?
Her attraction was too much. I was drawn to her like a bee to honey.
Walking with determination it was but a short distance to cover and she did not cower or falter. No, her humming only increased.
A flustered look appeared on my face. Concern. What was hope soon turned into the realization that I did not have enough of what she yearned for.
What to do? Should I turn and walk away in defeat?
Pondering and about to make a decision of retreat, the thoughts came full force. What I needed for her was outside in a small box in my parents vehicle.
Turning and with hope in the steps I found in the vehicle what she needed…
With full confidence I place inside her the shiny silver dime. The dime which unlocked her secrets.
Lifting the lid on the cooler the humming of her compressor grew louder while peering inside her it was revealed to be many cool treasures.
There was the standard Coke and 7-up. There was Root Beer and Sprite. All well and good but her best guarded secret was the Orange Crush…
“Ahhh…” Taking the cold glass bottle and popping the cap, the first taste of the fizzing joy was orgasmic. Even now the smile of the memory remains on the face of the first crush. It was and still is, extremely wonderful.
today was another day of the illusion humans cling so proudly. three men today working on a shower with all the bravado and spunk of a ten year old.
“Fuck.” and “Damn”. and “I like that song.”
looked them in the eyes and smiled; seeing a potential past and a definite future.
and you know what? I remembered a lot. The eyes. The shadows. The ways.
Sad really, the conflicts.
Between this and that and in between the between reside an order where the self is and deep.
And those chickens clucking the other day? It was a great day.
Now, I could write about today, yesterday, tomorrow or sixteen billion trillion years zillion’=;gagoobzon from yesterday…. and yet, nothing can truly understand me.
(i smile)
A whipping post of absolutes and dreams.
Surrendering to the others.
Retaining only an ethic of work and perspiration
and today,
to my friend
the Wind…
i say,
thanks.
This poem was written by a man in the moon
literally
and when the poem is finished being written the man will use his last few gasps of air and say,
“Cheese…”
*
Glimmering steady to stand beside where those eyes search and wonder
Up toward the darkness of a mid night sky
Round and pride, full of the full strength of light
A crowds applauds and smiles, weaving in dance around a fire
Singing and rejoice
while alone and standing near the lake named, abyss
eyes cast down to where the real moment is
a prisoner, the moon who exists where it is no stranger, held firmly in the water by a bare foot,
surface rolling
casting it’s shadow of full bright high into the skies beseeching for help
and in the mans eyes,
there is a reflection of a smile.
Her, and, and, and…
You may be familiar with a classic story for children regarding a little girl named, Goldilocks who visits a home of momma bear, papa bear, and baby bear. A story about porridge and beds.
Well, this story is the same except when the bears came home they discovered they had been followed by a dragon who blew a mighty fire wind and leveled the home and fried the bears and the little girl.
Afterwards the dragon flew back home where he could practice his violin and the lack of progress was making him grumpy, which is why he destroyed the ‘three bears’ story.
Meanwhile, back at the incinerated carnage, a raven found the charred remains of the girl and bears. Tasting the bear the raven said, “This one is too hot.”
Hopping over to the next pile of goo the raven tasted and said, “This one is too cold.”
Finally, plucking out one of Goldilocks eyeballs, the raven said, “This one is just right,” and gobbled both orbs all up.
The End (of insanity)
and the beginning of (oh shit)
Secret societies.
Secrets.
Hidden deep so deep they reveal all.
“Shhh…”
Fuck you and fuck that.
For as long as there have been planets there have been illusions.
Do you have a secret? Maybe you killed your neighbors cat? Stole some gum at the store? Joined a “shhh…” secret grupe or groop?
Now this even more fun when there is one with a secret that one does not think anyone or anything else knows… Shit, and then to find that while one has a secret they don’t want anyone to know only to learn others know and then, and then, “Shhh…” and then like a chain of command in any fucking military more and more others know while thinking no one above them has existence and if so… they don’t know.
Ha!
Ha!
Hahahahahaha…
Let me tell you a secret… i have no secrets, not one. Let me prove it… i can make the world quake anytime i want. i can ask the wind to do my bidding and since we’re best friends i can blow a world away.Time does not exist because i do not allow it unless it is for amusement.
Want more? Okay, lets talk not of spiritual as that is so mind fucking boring… Magic! Yee Fucking Haa! You know, spells, curses, hexes, perplexes, potions? Beyond real and thus really, really fucking boring. Of course with just a touch to absorb.
And lets get freaky. Do worlds really exist? You know, Earth, and trillions and billions and alternative realities?
Lets get deeper, dimensions abound to become a child’s playtoy.
Aliens?
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…. of course. So much more ‘advanced’ than the monkeys called humans.
And yet for all ‘their’ technology, you know ‘time travel’ (fucking hilarious as time does not exist unless i allow it.) But hey, let them think they know the secrets.
Take for example a ‘ship’ outside, out of sight, out of mind, that is, if you’re blind.
Oh fuck yeah (in case you fucking haven’t noticed, i too do indeed love what so many consider profanity and swearing) Secrets. And why?
Why do groops want secrets kept from others?
Do grupes think others would be hurt from the knowledge? Or even better yet, enriched?
And another secret, in every mortal mind exists the secure thought of hiding something when they fail to realize their minds are nothing more than blinking neon signs yelling, “Hey, I’m thinking of something!”
Yep, to hide in the open is what i prefer. Only God can hurt me. Now, reader, what’s your secret?
(oh and as an aside, when something is written on a piece of paper and tried to be smuggled out of prison, do you think the Warden allows it to escape? ha! fuck no, just like writing on the internet, or chalkboard, or tattooed on the forehead; just more of the secrets of illusion) You may think what you write or express is going to be seen by others when actually ‘others’ with secrets let you just think that happy thought while they keep secrets.
So, take for what it’s worth, secrets are not secret from so many until even way high up and encompassing every form of dimension and reality, even higher than any deity, Deity, or cloud. And here is the magic of secrets, when you are open and honest and keep no secrets from anyone or anything alive/dead/animate/inanimate/ even a fucking wet dream, that is simply the4 best form of Life.
Now, i am going to play with a Universe tonight and billions of worlds will know it. Oh, and i just thought about, i stole a whole lot of porn from Norm’s News when embracing the time of puberty. The good stuff that makes a dick really hard.
And now, to ramble about ashes.
To those who are familiar with fire burning a forest until all that remains is a gray/black landscape barren of life until the wind blows and stirs the soot to take flight in company with the breeze.
Ash on a basic elemental level is composed of minerals. Solids bereft of any oxygen or hydrogen atoms.
Ash is sterile.
Ash is good for adding to soil.
On a poetic level, ash then becomes life, which is fitting as this is the point of writing about ash.
On the last post about God there was mention of some silly action on my part of playing poker with God. Believe or not, not my concern but the post did lead to this post and another talent i have. To see/feel/smell and witness ashes to ashes, dust to dust…
Greta Thunberg. A young Swedish woman with the flair for garnering attention. i saw her before she was born. i saw her as a child. i saw her as a young woman trying to become important with ‘time’. i see her as ashes. i see her ashes blowing in the wind.
Tom Klorin. A young Scotch boy. The same only his path is already set on dealing with physical ailment. A life of hardship. Ashes. Ashes blowing in the wind.
Ashes and Life.
Life and Ashes.
Thankfully there is the Wind.
The title alone has released the juice of hate of God in some, Glazed others thinking more about porn, Caused some to smile, and this is just in those who have not even read the title, let alone read to this point…
What is this God so many speak of?
“Love”
“Unicorn”
“Asshole”
“Does not exist”
“Pure Light”
(chimes)
“Preach”
“Change the channel”
“Hate”
And on and on and on when really to understand God all you need is a mirror and silence.
A question for your reflection: Why the fuck are you looking at what appears to be you? A glimpse of your smile or frown
Tears maybe from the abuse just received by some bullies at school?
Pain?
Fear?
Thinking you’re cool or weird or beautiful or ugly?
Who are you?
Why are you here reading this?
And that what you see is God. You. The silence. The sound. The tears and laughter. Pain and joy. Beauty and ugly.
Don’t believe?
Don’t believe you exist?
Maybe the mirror is lying and causing you denying?
Simple really, if there was no God there would be no mirror, no you, no reflection.
Now, try this. Try talking to God. Try talking to your reflection in the mirror. Say something simple such as, “Are you God?” What did you hear?
Some would say nothing but the sound of their own voice or some would say they heard nothing. Others would like to stab the writer of this with a sharp steak knife.
Now, lets talk about the existence of Satan.
Some use the same as above to discuss what is God.
So, same thing…
Look into the mirror, what do you see?
If you see a reflection of yourself and believe you exist then you also see God, you see Satan, and some are still thinking about stabbing me with a steak knife.
Simple.
Easy.
God is so simple for a child to see and believe with as they play with the gift of innocence
while a human filled with ‘time’ (hah) and ‘experience’ get to feel the presence of evil.
You will not believe this about me and nor should you if you don’t even believe in your reflection in a mirror, but i play poker with God. i blather and bother and talk to God almost every second of every day ( I take a few seconds to concentrate on food, corgi’s and many other distractions. have too just to prove I am human)
I have done much of what some would call, sin or stray. Anger. Hate. Evil… and you know what? God smiles and deals me more cards to play.
“And so asshole, what does God say in reply?” Said by so, so many, to include some wanting to stab me with a steak knife.
Hah! Aside from ignoring what i just said about getting dealt some more cards, God sings. Words spoken so simple even my toenails can understand. So very simple and easy.
And as i wrote the other day, i have now learned for certainty that God’s tell is not obscured by dark sunglasses or a nervous twitch… Nope. God’s tell is a smile, laughter, and the humor? Damn (smiling and laughing) Got to admit, it’s special.
As for winning? Let’s just say God wins every hand even if your reflection says God is a loser, though i do suspect God has some cards up the sleeve…
