cover your smashed vision shame
you said fuck the cunts
the sport their hate to blame
blaze their corporate armadillo
arms
pumping small target deaths
on ouija hunts

we shall take shelter
and fuck ghosts
piss on walls
and sing Helter Skelter

finished my first purchased store bought book in ages
and came here before catching a few hours
to work and errand run the rest of today

"A poet is one ,
who says what?
and
so many ask why?

I (loved) have never heard
of poetry best described

ever

Thank You

Yes I could and can speak in the ordinary
but then what is poetry
or art for that matter
but imagery
imagery of the eye
or the tongue
or the ear

there is so much going on
with poetry
all our senses engage to
make sweet the taste
of its crucible of intent or
purpose

alchemy
of feelings
emotions
structure etc

forever changing
and growing

I will keep writing
as I do

I have read poems I
do not understand
at this time
only to remember
them or read them
in the future from
this now

and understanding
their simple complexities
in my unadorned place
of Now

Thank You

belonging is such a trick
ive seen things
eyes that are gauged with age
hearts that are old in little hands
and a sickness that all the packs
cannot undo in the land

we are taught to avoid
forced to endure and mingle
that which will never define
definition

if we burn books again
Ill keep the ones that I cant
label
books that stoke my mind
and keep imagination able

poetry and parable and rhymn have taught
the restless mind of man from before time
we danced too but now more with the meter
but still one can read these aloud
and dance with arms reaching
steps taken

lyrics to music of the soul
the dark caverns of fear
and bold astute flights
from restless nights

You are reading my mind loved
here here and near

we are thinking in the same
vein of thoughts