Serpent Dance on Virus and Beauty

This piece came to me on the airplane. It is a prose that explains a more clear version of the last few poems I have posted. This is time in its essence. This is what defines truth. 


When one door closes, another door opens...
Being in a vortex, or a time warp, if you will, graces me with an opportunity to view space through a periphery usually clouded by abstract visions of a race no one is winning. Finishing last, my ticket to success...patience is a virtue. Waning spirals of a serpent dance provokes thought and dons a clandestine nature call. Bringing me to a new found frame perforated with strobes of sensory influence. Feeling blessed for my hobble wobble, as I move what feels like a weighted anvil. I feverishly open my eyes wide. Could a piece of tape keep them open forever? And what if the slightest moisture was to creep within the adhesive, would I return to a stagnancy? I'm caressing the taste and smell of my environment I created. This test is voluntary. I submit myself, willingly. Can a level of patience and acceptance bring me to a place I call home...? Yes. Indeed. I felt the swoosh of a door opening to grace me with a human level kind gesture. A smile becomes me. If for a second, could we remember to bare kindness for all levels of being? Perhaps, could we recreate the same level as the "hallmark" holiday without the hall pass excuse? Picture this: The gesture, the blossom of selflessness is already present. We donate ourselves to it. With the standing of time, a virus is born and remains still, yet, once all the parabolas are present, once a host has created a domain, this virus masters itself and grows and multiplies thereby presenting itself with a new found colonization of a now suppressed structure with which none to remain intact, resulting in a metastasized recreation of itself. If the word virus did not have a negative implication in our society, would we be able to re-frame this colonization and allow it to fester into a positively illuminating force? Force of Nature. Let's dissect this phrase. F.O.R.C.E. Feeding On Realistic Charisma Everyday. Should I replace realistic with relative? Isn't it one and the same? My new speed of motion allows me to envision a kindness that seems to preset itself between human interaction only when the necessity is evident. Question this!! Where has our necessity for haste learned to surpass simply being? The need to control your force of nature which when combined with other forces becomes an atomic blast  throwing neurons into shape shifting. "You are not as beautiful as I need you to be." Words interpreted as such, recreate a rite of passage, of beauty and virtue. I'm not? Beautiful? Do you see me now? The most important and beautiful being, I, Me, We, Everyone, is more beautiful than you've the imagination to create. It's the eye of the beholder, and self doubt becomes beauty is as beauty does. And, I'm a beauty voyeur; so drawn to random acts of kindness. In fact, beauty is taking the time to write this excerpt on paper, and then re-write it, just for repetitions sake, on the digitally remastered version to remind me that beauty is a relative word, and what I see beautiful is you, for reminding me of how beautiful we really are, whether you see it or not, perhaps, wearing goggles fogged with internal steam. I took my finger and scribbled BEAUTY in the lens. Be Everything As Unique To You as you can be! And ensuing this beautiful disturbance, I feel weightlessness, because when I was going to pick myself up, you beat me to it, with your impatience, and for that I'm delighted I waited for you, me, everywe together discovered a new place to be. And I was reshaping my steel core upon the weighted anvil, and when sparks flew and chewed off a piece at a time, before I knew it, I wiped my hands and starred into space... How long have I been working on this piece of steel? Recreated beauty displayed in every spark. I can't ask about time, and, how long... I can only ask, how could I ever go dormant? How could I judge beauty in someone else? ZZZZZZZZ up yourself now. We've got work to do! 

><)))*>...fishin food for thought...

chickadee

Floored on a time standing still but its real and im feelin
every minute time passes by, i see more flying, sigh...
and i think to be sty in my eye, or do something high time
envision the impossible making moss and glow building
something new, something few have done, and it's on me
i'm up for the spree...this three legged dance,
i'm flying by the seat of my pants,
it could have been my invisible twin stagnant
state of mind, yet flynn still in effect
somehow growing with time, no defects trying
and I reject buying into the place i fear
one wrong steer, magic carpet, take me to the road where
i know i can vere away from lack of care,
spearhead a gear-head, give him reason to see
a sprinkle of thought, and free him of the purge of doubt
a stout indication that nothing will change, why bother?
go no farther.
so tell me chickadee, what did the little bird tell you?
whistles touch my skin, and i hear the energy
on a whim, pulses trim a sensation and i know
i can change indignation, i can flare
blare me out loud, and clear the grey cloud
can you hear me? Loud and clear
we're getting near, to the place, here and now
a change is on the loose
and i found me a truce
finely i can reveal the noose undone,
no pun,
were getting somewhere,
my job, however, is never done...



><)))*>...fishin food for thought...

Sift

Sift through the shift of this drift with a lift
And I came to this place as a seeding roots spreading gift
Rummaging through the whiff of a root bound bliss
And the cliff missed the echo of the vista
Cutting edge- this is how I ask
Tasked in a force of a mask unveiled
Mist on my face while I gave unto space
Sasquatch flailing with a level one trace
Bask in the sun of a delight on my face
There’s a wondering round in a field of this sound
Chock full me ne hungry now
Crowning of mischief rules are drowned
And I speak loud clear not shrouded with a glare
Roots continue to sprout bottomless flair
With uprising flower shine from day one on
Ney from the past that’s from spawn of the slalom
Curves groan each carve whisking away a drone beat
Sliding fallen sleet beneath ones feet
I remembered my spikes and brought them with me today
And punched air through soil my hydration speaks
Slight as ever delicate one crack creaks a spell
What say do you? What say is you?
Dread gleeks for itself
Always at the bottom of the curve there dwells
Finnish line. Go on, get your bells
Mine never does. Finish.
This worm squirms with morning dew,
Best tell tell fresh first morning breath,
My in my out grew in tune
Always dressed for June, my bloom
Continuum main objective always will be
Sprouting stand tall this tree
No rush in my giddy up and I’m pleased 
To see the dreams  finely coming to me.

><)))*>...fishin food for thought...

Pickle

Trickle from a slapstickle...
words from the wise fire eyes is a disguise
and a size up on the rise by and by
cauterize the terminal angle
pickle the wikipedia clue and in true
its fickle
but I'm good for a tickle
cut the umbilical cord
you're on your own
it's the only place i've ever known
speaking up for myself
i'm blown away
brimstone magic burns me
one step at a time
coals on goin
heats my degree
while feeding me
pure but choice
mixed pedigree
a record of ancestry- family tree?
voice to be me-
one and only-
maybe you see a way through your rhapsody
and im swinging on the vine
smile on mine
i have time-
all the time
fascinating- it's free



><)))*>...fishin food for thought...

FENCE

FENCE


 Here's my impromptu perception of it all...

white picket fence on the de-fence of the which side of the lets commence...what i say is what i am not a hindrance of what the mental sense of mind and pretence. an imaginative spirit, an omnipresence in a state of the art lessons I continue to teach myself, It’s like the peasants at the bow of your feet, mercy be us, hence the word magic…it cant be seen with the naked eye. Tragic. And I know not to cry why...me in a tense ball of fire…I can go higher than this…I can fly…humming bird dispense a million flutters and one utter of the breath of truth I’m finding It’s easier to prove. No wonder the numbers that be…nonsense to say the least. This Mother Teresa, who are you? Why don’t you teach me a thing or two? Perhaps, I’ll tell you- which language do you want? 50Cents it’s my final offer, or a ten pence, take your gamble for currency in an emergencyin a state of defence. Maybe strike up courage and see what’s a mirror image of the face on the coin. Profiles among us, conjoined mysteries, many of the type, I’m about to learn about the art of flight. No answer to the questions, we’re test-ions on planet martion experiment…sharing and breathing the same atoms of existence. Spitting it out chewing it up spitting it out chewing it up, a deliverance of schlop soup  stirring something I never knew. I’m exhausted by this frosted flake, shake it off, it’s just a moment in time staked with memory, fine. I can fake a smile tomorrow, but the next for real is all mine. Only 24hrs of this chastity will be my bind toward a new frame of mind. Snake on the slide, Ima open wide, take it all in, all big in stride, this is our world but a silent drop of a pin, one side or the other, there’s no way to win.


><)))*>...fishin food for thought...

Crazes

Things aren't always easy and its up to us to interprit these times in a relative positive way... Here's my spin on something that ain't such an easy ticket- impromptu rhyme..


Yep a ways of waves on days of crazes n sways on blazes thru mazes of b'jayzus.. And trays of who says is ablast and greys but who gives a shaze when shades of ways can bring bk the days....    <)))*>...fishin food for thought...

whut whut v-day schmee-day

Just when i thought I would give up forever, I bring a new light with a postive shine on my life and these beautiful days I have been blessed with. Triying to post this before midnight...wish me luck! This one has refernce to the number 14- so here it is...

Where were your parents when you turned 15
When you were learning bout dreams and only sippin on cream
sodas, were you goin to the top or stoppin at sorta
kinda, maybe I fell in between,
But that was when I was only 14~
Smokin in bars was my pasttime at 13
talkin, beers, liquers, no shirley temples here...
move on with your sippers of Grenadine,
Like i was guna make it to age 17
Babies on hips was the future for me,
But I could tell my lips were too sure to speak
for themselves,
and i coulda found myself drowning in a bottle well
My days in Saudi and spain were dying
So sick of my pilot dad always training and flying
When would the day arrive when I wasn't aspiring
to see if we could be a family alive again...
But, I'm a Cryan Shame and my name came with a destiny bound to never remain
in the same ground twice,
and if this life should suffice, then i'm found and im spliced
between homeslice and everything nice, on my own
cuz around these parts,
there's no such thing as a slice of home slice!
So off to this land for an american story,
from the bottle in my hand to building some priorities...
Itsz up to me to grow up and understand
and not distort what the youth can as minorities
Home slice Home slice, and everything nice
I never had that but im sure its a delight
Gone with the wind and my seat belt is fastend
ready to be spinned from a life of distractions,
seas shells and sea shells, to chainsaws and tree wells!
Home slice home slice, and everything nice
I never had that but i'm sure its a delight
perhaps i;ll follow my dad in flight...
it is after all, such a beautiful night!
And it's young out there, and despite of your fears,
Dare, dare, dare to be scared,
 get bare get naked shake your head and prepare, cuz its a part of yooooour,
home slice, home slice, and everything nice,
It's your life to entice, you throw the dice
Look into your soul with your eyes open wide,
it's up to you, you and you to decide!


Damn- 12.06...i tried :)

><)))*>...fishin food for thought...