It’s a cold world indeed

Full of storms, coldness, and heat

So much concern about illness, wealth, death;

naked into and out, such is the test

Wearing a cloak transparent,

sewn by hand and time

Thread

after

thread

after

thread…

So comfortable now

hiding in plain sight

Buttons latched

Zipper zipped

Tail long… so long

and flowing, gliding above the ground

Now, fully covered and friends with creatures, wind,

and air

talking to the flowers, the tree’s the bee’s, even the soil

hidden in plain sight

alive, comfortable, free, naked

covered in glowing

warmth.

Hype

Exude

Bullshit…

Never trust a politician that says, “Trust me!”

Especially never trust a politician named Cortez that says the world will end within twelve years because of climate change ( the world has a better chance of ending with her getting elected by her moron constituents)

Invested in a penny stock currently. Owned it for years because I like their product and process of manufacture. Boring stock. No to little revenue. Accumulating loss year after year.

Last Fall, some new blood on their board and then the stock price mysteriously starts to increase in volume and drop in price. In a matter of weeks the price drops to .000 land with huge volume.

On a stupid entertaining forum dedicated to stock trading called, Ihub, the total volume of posting for years was less than 200 posts total. Today… almost 100,000 posts.

Why write about such bullshit? Why not? It’s my site and I can write about any shit I want and tonight I write about the bullshit of “RahRah!”

Money has no friends. It has no alligiance. It’s only ally is greed.

I hate rah rah speech based on greed. I hate greed. I hate bullshit.

This stock I write about is like every other company and the shareholders with greed in their hearts. Buy low and sell high. That’s okay, but to buy low and sell high while at the same time telling others “Rah rah! Buy! Buy!” I hope they get a mass of collective hemorrhoids..

Thankfully though, there is pizza and chocolate.

A lot of creatures with the mental faculty of understanding there is more to planet Earth than the pursuit of food, sex, and survival; understanding there is more than self or others. There is more in the way of what some could title, “Higher Power.”

A lot of creatures with the mental faculty of understanding the planet Earth, do not believe in a deity such as God,rather they choose to understand the mundane of a simple planet engaged in the most primitive of intelligence. This is wonderful, as it makes those in the first paragraph all that more satisfying to watch.

Today, a man said the following, “”The real story is what I tried to tell you from the beginning. It didn’t happen back there. It’s happening right while you’re alive looking at it,” Farrakhan told the audience. “I represent the Messiah. I represent the Jesus and I am that Jesus. If I am not, take my life.””

A lot of so many of an infinite passing of moments of such thoughts so varied and yet so much the same… these have clung to themselves and their collective thoughts.

Power is an interesting concept. Farrakhan has his own power in this little world. A power he enjoys, cultivates, believes in, and embraces. Good for him Good for all who think, embrace, and know themselves and their choices. Better they cling to what they think they know than what is real and they do not know, as they would be unable to believe in what is really real.

Fools wear many colors of cloth. They announce. Filling minds that will accept such and thus pass the mantle of foolishness on to the many coming generations.

Allah. God. Jesus. Mohammad. Buddha. Quan-shi. Bill. Farrakhan. Who are these names? What are these names?

Wars have been fought. Muslim against Christian. White against White. Black against Black. War… Sweetness of spilled blood. Fangs bared in anger. Rape. Horror. Pestilence. Plague. Who are these names? What are these names?

Simple is simple. Real is real. Fools are fools.

God will not smite such because fools really do not understand what it is they do. People such as Farrakhan though, will and do smite fools who do not understand. And there is the difference in names.

War is good for this world. It is needed. It is embraced. It is real. It will happen over and over just as it always has…

However. And with great sadness. War for this world will not be good when it meets the World known by so many creatures with the mental faculty of knowing there is… more…

and so, much like the Winds talk with few to listen… a poem

*

Did you hear? though… Did you listen?

Over

and

Over

and

Over

it has been written, it has been said.

Pushing and pushing and pushing

breaking out from the familial thread

“I am!”

“Hear me, I am Man!”

Knowledge, the bitter fruit indeed

when used to taint the seed

Do not live in the past, nor think you know the future

Live now with an open heart, an open ear,

listen to what is all around

is is…

here.

Amen

Mischievous? Oh hell yeah… But little devils? Ha! Definitely not.

I LOVE imps. They have a lot in common with stability/reality. Leaving very little to fantasy.

Imps and Imp’s are, everywhere…

They play with you in dreams, on your telephone, your computer, your reading glasses, your car, bike, airplane, job… In short, the key word for them is ‘play’.

If they cause harm, they no longer are called imp. They lose that status for a long time, but even though their ‘nature’ is playful, they actually help those they play tricks upon so even if they do cause harm, it all works out in the end with some really great situations unfolding where an imp regains title.

Tonight, it is about time to visit some imp’s in my world… The world of dreams is one of fantastic opportunities and the past few nights have indeed been very busy…

What is really fun is to turn the tables on an imp. To become an imp for an imp is just one of those small things that come with the job which makes the time pleasant in passing.

Of course, inspirational for a bit of poem impishness…

*

What World hails that which slumbered deep?

That which dares to set the wolves aflame?

To call that with name and chance is much akin to

mischievous play…

Council gathered as the songs spun threads of old

bringing memories to granite cold, and mirth to the young

and bold…

Pomp and ceremony hold no sway

only the power of Life

the circle of Joy

and Peace

Making such to accept

to be

awake.

.

writers get their inspirations from many sources, for sure. some come from the news, or events of a personal nature, or drug induced; an endless muse from endless sources, for sure.

today, I was inspired by Dave Pudelka. Dave died two years ago of complications to his lungs; gift from the U.S. Government use of Agent Orange while he served in Viet Nam.

Dave a mild-mannered man. a family man. a logger. a border patrol officer. and he told the most horrible, boring jokes that were ever told before his life or since (so bad it made me laugh in amazement)

i last saw Dave three years ago. he and his wife Heather came to visit for a day. we visited, watched a movie about the secret lives of pets, ate a wonderful meal, and he told more of his hoooooorible jokes…

he inspired me today as i passed the spot we’re we met him on the highway as they traveled up the highway. i pass this spot often yet today his picture of standing there was as real/vivid as it was three years ago. in this, a poem is created.
*

This Concept Called, Time

By: Dave’s spirit

Jungles of vibrant drops of greenery
Wet
So wet the very being rotted

Bullets flying as if guided by intentions
Killing
Killing
Writing home so far from reality

It started
It ended
and then,
it began…

A family with one, then two, then three
in small home by a lake filled with algae
surround by a forest of work, until the Owl came

Out of work to soothe the conscious of an America that paid more in homage
to Owls, Wolves; misguided environment winning over the hard work of men and women
called loggers

Finding a border to cross where trading in the saw and hard-hat for a uniform
Black boots
a badge

Retirement to hunt and find
sickness
so hard to breath

Each breath so laborious
a smile still so powerful
and those great jokes

…

Dave is gone now, his wife still grieves as she cans the gardens bounty
But is he gone?
No.

Today, I saw him clearly standing tall wearing the face of a child, a young man, burly with an ax, polished in uniform,
and finally
pulling an oxygen bottle with dignity.

It’s a curse to know, to see, and be
where time is meaningless
to watch the infinitesimal sparks of life
float far from the flame

It’s a blessing though, to know, to see, and be
able to know it never ends
to watch the infinitesimal sparks of life
explode into a roaring flame.

.

27-year-old man plans to sue his parents for having him without his consent: ‘They had me for their joy and their pleasure’

Sometimes the news is made just to garner a readers attention. The above headline is a perfect example

A weird man in India is suing his parents for ‘having’ him without his consent.

Not much to write about as it is all self-explanatory.

However, maybe one day the news from India will be… 28-year-old man who unsuccessfully sued his parents for having him without his consent, was trampled to death by a herd a elephants high on skittle candy.

That kind of news would make me smile.

looking for and finding

in turn and result

losing everything worth losing

reminds of one step forward, two steps back

jumping from the frying pan into the fire

sawing off the limb while trying to stand

irony for some is painful and hard

giving meaning to those trying to understand

for me, God is a playful teacher with such a wonderful display of humor

teaching and reaching all leaving

one to understand

this world of mankind is nothing more than an illusion

nothing of this world is worth more than the life of one

with it better at least to be alone with one than nothing

and to find comfort in a world where there is something so very much

more.

No matter how the concentration takes hold

with matters of mind

heart

soul.

No matter the hardness of engorged determination

rising to pierce

rebellion

No matter the resolution as if written from stone

strength of  beaten steel forged in frost

No matter this feeling that cannot, will not, clip the wings of one in love

(this the author of life)

.

Indians. A common word used in North America and South America. Common too, indigenous. Hard to separate who is who.

Not in the reality though…

*

It was a large venue. New buildings built to awe. A grand opening. A festival. Thousands of people came to see the show as indigenous folks from around the world displayed their culture.

People smiled. They admired. Walking through and above marbled walls and floor.

One object of white compressed paper hung from the wall. Each line clear and definitive. The artist smiled in pride.

**

Time of renewal. Time of budding strength. With this Time, there arrives a settlement.

Holes balanced; staggered to thread those natives with clarity of holding judgement. One contained the dead, the next one lifted themselves from the hole. Death. Life. Death. A perfect dance of weaving fabric. For a path was filled.

***

Taken now to the depths of society. Teetering again where it welcomes instability. Pipes spewing more and more in vibrant colors.

****

Holding up and lifting a veil where the winds trail, spilling grains of sand
Feet follow not, nor can they
Winding around a tree with bark so thick, it swallows oceans, clouds, ideas, worlds…

In this, a hand waves
Mountains in return, smile
Below a nucilie sportagiaol

i can hear now, the waters borne
taste the death of
feel the muse
and be at peace.

hi…

hello…

good?…

Yes…

No…

How can one describe living in the present, past, and future when say they know, knew, needing the past