>

> 

‘I didn’t know that was there the whole time,’

exclaimed the

fleeting

exasperated

red and white

flashlight.

the doldrums and duties

shifting  

that cheap

plastic

on/off

switch.

              [the mountains, the air, the trees, the seas grow darker 

                                                                           and larger]

everything so confined

projected

              [peering through white linens rolling on the line]

Click:

*a-lightbulb*

> 

‘I didn’t know that was there the whole time,’

exclaimed the

spent

prostrate

black and white

match.

constantly

contending

the

4

elements.

                    [sisyphus scaling the tail of the dragon]

everything’s a struggle

tuggingly

                   [gotta take the stairs; elevators broken]

Click:

*A-lighter*

> 

‘I didn’t know that was there the whole time,’

exclaimed the

depleted and

stark

classroom.

all this

matter

subjugated

to these

barren

4

walls.

                   [that black & white analog clock]

Dissonantly

Distracted

                   [the dove through these glasses 

                    through that window looks, free]

Click:

*ubiquitary*

> 

....a cobblestone journey with friction-less heels; wobbly at best (a foot/feet note)

This is the tale of:

Too many hats.

‘My neck is killing me’,

mumbled Everyman….

Balance must be

 his perfect chemistry

of

just too many hats.

Everyman swayed

down the jilted lane.

Higher than the flower beds

on the second floor,

all these hats jumbled and soared.

Swaying left and then right

all but preoccupies both day and night.

I know just what your thinking,

‘Just how does he sleep,

Or bathe,

Or get through the door?’

All those details a tale can ignore…..

It seems rather harsh

the weight and the scale

-if only

Everyman knew this same tale….

He’d stop this

dizzying
high-wire act

Indeed.

Stop acting these roles

and

just plain 

and

simply

be.

Just before eight,

while the streetlights a glowed

Everyman awakened

and ended his

show

He shook from his core to

the heels of his feet

and off flew 40 plus hats,

right there on the street.

Everyman sauntered

with a sigh of relief.

hey remember when?

Hey,

remember when..........?

When I remember….....

a

memory
             negative?............or

a                           positive?  or   a   false   positive?.......


i-witness; by-standard/s

Tales   

change,   grow,   yawn

(cat poster.....)

Recall memories

Total memories, recall.

All the tenses:

A tri-nity

space needle………….yippee!!

How much space on the head of a needle?

…………………………..Actually, sorry;

i misfired a memory….

There be but 2:

past and present

may I

override that last…….-yawn…..

OK, well…………………

.......................meow…..

Two horns raging

equally posed    !  ! 

Matador…………….

Yo 

Mat or door??......

No.

Future..??

                                              

                                                There-! That ring

hung

in her nostril…

oscillating from each breath,

Swaying past present to past

to present to past…………..

Tenses/time/

Sequences/preference

Don’t sneeze into a microscope…

Do bifocals work on a telescope?

The dandelion doesn’t ask which way the wind's gonna blow??...       or does she.............?....

the musings of an April fool

4/1/16: the musings of an April fool

While watching the premier of CNN’s Eighties series last night, I started thinking about how generations, like cycles, are merely reactions from the previous generation/or actions. That whole cause and effect theory….snow to snowball to avalanche to placid lake to clouds to rain to snow....

There’s a trance one enters when glaring into the glass tube of a washing machine at the local laundry mat. That continually spinning and constant swirling and dizzy twirling around and around and around, hypnotically. That cycle. It’s taking that perfect immovable sphere of the Tao and spinning it like Pat Sajak, whirling forever forward from a forever forward first mover.

A Hail Mary is what it can seem like for us practitioners down here on planet earth. Trying to connect our mortal flesh to our immortal soul; connecting with the Divine-from us here; on the vine. Do our word-chained prayers photosynthesize into a lightness of being? Are we in the end zone? On the field? Still in the game? Touching down…..

Sometimes when relieving myself on the toilet I’m tempted to sit down on the plastic transparent waste basket next to me and just for once-Allow myself to express things in a completely different manner; I think about this a lot; changing our routines. Just let it go-right there in the waste basket; however it pleases to fall…..what’s been holding me back all this time?...

Be it a click, a tap or a swoosh-every few seconds, the changing of our screens to newer content, newest images, the next site, newer breaking news-too much stimuli.......(as you stare at this blog, ha....I'm that whitewashed tomb) The disappearance of Adulthood. 

Our eyes flicker like a Clockwork Orange, pinned down and forced a constantly changing stimuli. 

Concentration and focusing are those by-gone highways filled with their decrepit diners and vacant motor lodges; it’s the superhighway for now, their with bright,shiny neon billboards...and aint no time to spare.

Can I just say that instead of the news always having to be breaking on our screens, and always flashing in emergency red letters; let’s call it broken news. ‘It done broke a long time ago’.

The older I get the more I think about the weather. What do the elderly in the Sahara think about?

If the rich dream of a convertible red sports car for midlife crisis, what do the poor dream? Or the working class?...