(in a language of simple such color; vibrations and layers. this is what it translates too)

So now a bit of translation…

Of this slight touch, pursed lips of frown

Still of pause… now… here it is

again.

again.

again.

Understand world.

It is not nor can the hold of eternity

be answered

as in my heart

i called you before you were born

sacrificing a sliver of my heart.

It can be called amazing.

It can be called anything.

It is, though, a definite part of what will never change when all really

is the glass half full or half empty?

The answer is.

It would be nice, of course, to spake and discourse

as the feelings and words would be endless

of course

and  then there are those moments…

Woodpecker singing this morning, while resuming once more, to beat against the wall, his head.

A Spring courtship in full view as the birds come in numbers to do what must be done

It is

Spring again.

There could be a “hehehe”, or “hahaha.” Of course

Really being myself lately

A kitty cat and a piece of string

or more likely,  dancing laser dot

and oh my, took a whole second for a most wonderful

view.

Oops!  It, it happened…It, it did so, again.

There is a bit of ‘wordery’ concerning a centered point of being

Looking upon the hand there resides a movement, an orchestra, vibrations, sensation, and warmth.

Through yelling and rage to think of greener pastures free from the icy breath

Inside where there smiles

comfort for me.

X

Imagine a world where movements come together

Tips of fingers touch

and then, once it all again begins,

a choice of so many lives, so many realities,

Of course… (insert another picture I’m too lazy to draw here)

It is, all, good.

One by one dropped with the satisfying sound of, kerplunk.

Sure, a lot to write and say but why talk with pebbles going, kerplunk

The sun rises and sets as the world turns and the prison still remains the same

One by one dropped with the satisfying sound of , kerplunk

A good day of work yesterday, today, and tomorrow

Leaving more room for pebbles that go, kerplunk

and embracing being tired.

Pulling back the reins the rider’s hand exerts authority

Hot breath steamed from nostrils flared while the eyes of coal reflected the flame

Front legs pawed the cobble and plain, shod with eternal

Elbow tucked and armored, visor closed, shield raised

Sword in anticipation for the work ahead

Tattered clothing hanging haphazard from the wind laden decision

Lunging forward the weight of the world felt the charge

Widows wept unborn the children while men cowered and fled

In the air, the sound of laughter.

Listened to a soul share problems of the heart. It is a troubled heart and from what was explained has been this way for years. I am a fool when it comes to such matters and probably the absolute last person anyone would want to try and explain the situations men and women get themselves into, but I did listen.

There are  four choices.

1. Try and repair the situation, which I give  1% chance of success

2. Seek counsel from friends/family,  which I give 3% chance of success

3. Obtain professional/legal advice, which I give 97% chance of success

4. Let the situation unfold without doing anything, there is 0% chance.

The person sharing is vibrant and full of potential. A world is out there waiting for whatever decision is made, of which there will of course, be.

And so it is, it is good to listen though wise not to do more than such as human hearts are a strange emotion, one best left alone for those possessing one to figure out their individual journey.

As for me, it was nice someone felt I was worthy of  sharing such thoughts, though if it was known how ice cold my heart is, people would run far and fast.

Enough of that situation. Now, some poetry that will be grabbed out of thin air, free from the bonds of chain and earth.

***

Purple vines do not exist, such then the clumps of grape’

Hanging tenacious from a green stem with leaves shadowing their way

Blended below the forest at the edge of the meadow; above the bending blade

With hopes and ambitions the hands tender care until the time the morning brings temptation of frost

Blood flowing now as the harvest is made

Winter snows show the clarity in the glass while a sip is made and another log dry is added to the hearth flame.

In a society/world full of all those people who espouse rights, compassion, freedom, love… What a crock of shit.

America was once somewhat decent. Indians respected settlers while settlers respected Indians… until they didn’t and then they killed each other.

Steal a horse? You got hung.

Rob a bank? You got hung.

Abortion? You got shunned.

Want to blow up a beaver dam with dynamite? You went to a shop, bought some, and then blew shit up for work or fun…

Flash forward to the shit now called, America. Men becoming women, women becoming men. Can’t say certain words as they offend (so all words are on the table)

Basically everything that WAS America is now some bizzaro world of crap.

This virus stuff shows how weak the country has become. A giant land of hand lotion and toilet paper. Why? Fear. Fucking fear.

Stay six feet away. Stay at home. Cry. Hope. Pray. Party. Rob. Sleep.

Years ago, more people were wiped out due to swine flu than what we will see with this baby virus. People buried the dead and got on with life. Today? Today is a fucking embarrassment as government officials start to flex muscles. To make ‘sound’ safe decisions. Decisions to protect the living.

Okay fucking government, how many people did you factor in regarding suicide as a result of broken families, lost business, fear… All from this virus? YOU should be the blame and not the virus.

This country is fast becoming a weaker form of sheep than the past few years. The greatest generations of the past are being replaced with something that is truly embarrassing.

America used to get things done. It built things. It destroyed the Axis of evil. Yeah, it did some fucked up things also with slavery and so fucking what… Why did so many people want to immigrate here in the past? Why do so many people try to sneak into the country?  Because this country was somewhat decent.

Man, it would be nice to get off this shit hole planet. It’s getting harder and harder to watch the idiots in charge flex their feeble muscles.

Remembering how the youngsters steered their hogs. A stick, some words, and lots of movement.

Pigs do not go where you think they will as there will is not the way.

It was hot that day with a water mister.

Vendors sold wares of sorts ranging from sunglasses to trinkets.

But getting back to the hogs that day.

I distinctly remember, it was good.

This memory is recorded inside and now with some rudimentary words. And it really does not matter except today, it does to me.