Pulling a Rip Van Winkle seems appealing,
Though my time it would be stealing
Keeping me from dealing
With all of this feeling
That leaves me reeling.
But like an onion, I need pealing
To accomplish inner healing
Revealing rather than concealing
I find myself kneeling while congealing
My past I am repealing

The ***** bird hums
And sings a light tune
Declaring and sharing
The incoming June

The ***** bird hums
And sings a bright song
Whistling quite loudy
Her noted throng

The ***** bird hums
And sings her gay ditty
Making my heart
Go all a flitty

The ***** bird hums
And sings never more
As her bones are now piled
By my front door

Free from projections,
Lumps, or indentations

Epidermis database is
Environmental interface

Temperature regulation
Largest ***** for sensation

Sun spit kisses
Bespeckle adventitious

Seven layer enchantment

The room
sideways
Clutter
Dust
Carpet smells of *****
Eyes close
Room goes black
Pause
Eyes open
Light is dimmer now
Fuzzier
Naked
Curve of the shoulder
A question mark
Lost
Askew
Her body shuts down
Spit dribbles
Eyes dry
Breath Crawls
like a turtle
Blood pools around her head
A halo of purity
serenity
Time has come

That thump
and that bump
on my ****
as you twirl
and you pump
-Spin Cycle

From the perspective of the tree we are but a quick blip in their time. A generation appearing as that of a fly. Around for a minuscule amount of time like the house fly to us.

Sometimes
I feel like those milliseconds
Before a hanging death
Where you stop struggling
But aren’t dead yet either
The frantic clawing
Burning fight for life
No longer visible on the body
But inside still raging.
Locked in a torture
That looks serenely peaceful
Sometimes
Its like my emotions are
Suspended
In that choke of death
On the brink of a black hole
Where it crushes you
In the timelessness
Of forever
Like universal roadkill

I know you’ve heard tales
Of the Tattle-Tale bird
Whispering to others
All that he’s heard

He tells on your sisters
He tells on your brothers
He loves to tell all
Especially to mothers

With small shifty eyes
And a voice oh so quiet
He eagerly thrives
On starting a riot

No secrets to tell
Not when he’s near
For you can be sure
Your name he will smear

But if you can catch him
I’ll tell you right now
He tastes so much better
Than a fat grass fed cow

Cook him in the over
Or over a fire
‘Cause that’s what you do
WIth Tattle-Tale flyers

I am high maintenance
In that I require others
To have a sense of self.
In order to understand me
You must understand yourself first.

I was sent on the most urgent mission to rescue the tea!

It was the most dire of situations. The package of tea, having finally arrived after a very long journey from overseas, sat defenseless on the porch. It rested peacefully, waiting for the eager owner to run forth with open arms, tears streaming, and proclaiming such holy gratitude that all of the church doves in all of the world flutter in to flight the moment her heart rings like a bell at seeing said package.

And as it rested peacefully the most ominous form loomed on the horizon. A sight more terrifying than babies eating pickles and bears with no hair. The darkest, most heavies, most deep blue clouds were building ever bigger, and coming ever closer. So pregnant with rain that at any moment that saddest shade of blue was going to color the very town the package was waiting in and color the heart of the owner, that very same shade, unless I could possibly make it in time.

The story of the mission itself and the actual said rescue of the tea is entirely another story which just so happens to be titled "I was somewhere else, but I wasn't, but I was" which is part of the continuing chronicles: The Misguided Adventure of Stumblebum Fumbletongue. Out on sale next yesterday.

Wicked drips
Upon my lips
Of milk sweet honey

He has a con mans likability
A cunning sly agility
Disguised as civility
With an ego of nobility
He has a con mans likability
A shallow loud tranquility
Illusioned vulnerability
To hide his own futility

All my sadness and my loss
Locked up in a little box

A locked up box inside my head
The key resides in my heart of red

My heart of red beats fierce and true
If only for the thought of you

The thought of you unlocks my tears
and a touch of quiet fear

Fear that you have gone for good
From the place where you last stood

You stood alone on that night
And took from all your precious life

Your precious life will no more be
but now you are truly free

Truly free from pains sway
but within my heart you'll always stay

Nestled back
on the cul-de-sac
within the jungled yard

In disrepair
sitting there
Showing all your scars

Left alone
Just boards and bone
Speak of your neglect

Shadowed Debris
From your last lessee
Your banshee dialect

Tiptoe approach
Tenderly encroach
Upon your property

The right touch
A friendly crutch
To lift this poverty

Skeletal remains
framework veins
Weighted in their silence

Times erosion
Your eclosion
Birthed from gall defiance

I'll restore this wood
Back to good
Preserving stories within

Robin Hood pieces
My extraction increases
Patches of woven skin

Lift your head
Roll over
Crawl
Walk
Run
Life is an obstacle course
Repetition to hone
Everything has a purpose
Function, design, principle, scope, prospect
It's not always grand purpose to the average eye
They can be giant things or minuscule ones
No matter the size or look
They are equal in their importance
Regardless if you think that importance is silly
Good, bad, useless, or otherwise
What you think about them
Does not alter their function
It alters YOURS
Be the doer, maker,
The originator
Be movement

His
Smile escaped
Engulfing my reality
Suspended in gravitational timelessness
Home

Presently present
Flow of time irrelevant
The moment is now

Pocket lint was magic dust masquerading
2. If I kicked a rock down the street I would have to move it back otherwise it had no way to return to his friends
3. Music made storms go away
4. Bugs couldn't climb furniture
5. The next door neighbors back 40 held a secret gateway to other dimensions
6. Your belly button was how your legs stayed on
7. Moving clouds is what made wind
8. Stars were just holes that the light of heaven shone through

I caught myself a Leprechaun!
It took two and seven years
More with wit than with brawn
and a variety of beers.
He is a little son-of-a-gun.
Fast on his feet is he.
He is a little wild one.
But not w-i-l-y as me
Now three wishes I do get
but need them I do not.
For anything I'd ever want
Is right here in this spot

People don't commit suicide
Because they want to die.
They just don't want to live.

People who are depressed don't disappear
Because they want to be lost.
They just want to be found.

The sky fills with pink as the last yellow blinks beyond the horizon.
The sounds of children getting in the last frenzied half hour of it-tag and hide and seek trail through the air as little eddies of laughter and secrets.
The birds full throatily serenading the last vestiges of sunlight and the hum of the crickets growing clear as sunsets final stretch relaxes.
And the breeze.... oh the breeze! It comforts like a mothers hands. It is just a touch cooler than the overall temperature and it is blowing like a playful lover.
I stopped mid stride and stood for 15 minutes just listening to the music of twilight and feeling the caress of it all across my entire being.
7:41 pm on a summer night, I succumbed

Unidentifiable nomads
Hot-wired
Dancing rootless, lean and hard
In the rhythm of now

There was a young lass named Thea
who loved onomatopoeia
sprinkle drip drizzle
bloop splash squirt sizzle
spewing forth like mouth diarrhea

Unrelenting noise
Life's symphony set to LOUD
I forget to breathe

Words have always enraptured me
once written they become history
devour them I must
before they turn to dust
once more becoming a mystery

Of all the things I've snorted
Which truthfully aint' many
The one that left me thwarted
Red pepper flakes a plenty

As they passed beneath my nose
Just as I inhaled
To my sinuses they arose
Which they promptly nailed

At first it seemed not so bad
The calm before the storm
Seized just like Leningrad
For communist reform

Just like that, a simple whiff
My nose a raging fire
Running water I did sniff
This situations dire

To the freezer I am going
To end this burning grief
For neither ******* or blowing
Brings any kind relief

Time to try a frozen ****
And see if I can numb
So I grab two ice cubes
And follow this rule of thumb

Hold them under water running
Until sizes that will stow
Pat yourself for your cunning
Then shove them up your nose

Clap of thunder
Applause of the heavens
Natures approval

Fishing line sentences
Baited with words
Cast far out into the sea
Drifting and reeling
Ever so slowly
What they will bring to me

There is no such thing as perfection
There is only a perfect for me and
That perfect is beautifully flawed.

I awoke to a dull thud upon my face. The hand of your left arm haplessly flung as you slept. The thud must have alerted you as well because I heard you catch your breath and hold it while quickly turning to see what was amiss. And as you comprehended you let out a very soft "Oh!" and then quietly declared with the absolute wonderment and surprise of a child come Christmas morning "A Human Being!" and promptly went back to sleep.

There once was a girl named Sally
Who liked to dilly-dally
On the bed she did stay
All night and all day
Instead of cleaning the galley

Dreaming of days long gone
When witches would ride upon
Her family and friends
Through the wends and the bends
In between dusk and dawn

I chew, I chew, I chew, I chew
That's not a sneeze
That is the sound of me
eating my enemies.

I know that I am worthy
To live a life full score
Life is thirst and I am thirsty

I have been invited cordially
I Have opened up the door
I know that I am worthy

I am not meant to hurry
There is much to feel and explore.
Life is thirst and I am thirsty

I embrace the topsy-turvy
Every sunset an encore
I know that I am worthy

The taste of life is pleasing
I know that I want more
Life is thirst and I am thirsty

Are you meant to be
the choice is yours
I know that I am worthy
Life is thirst and I am thirsty

Speeding and impeding
Two warnings I'm recieving
For exceeding while proceeding
In the left lane i was weaving
Now I'm pleading and conceding
'Cause this not be what I be needing

There's a hurricane a comin'
Rollin' right on in
Churnin' and a turnin'
With it's counter-clockwise spin
Batten down the hatches
Go and buy the beer
There's a hurricane a comin'
It is that time of year

Play me like a drum
A crimson red rhythm
of handprint notes
pulsing on my skin

Let the games begin!

Little miss *****
Sat on a bench
Enjoying her overcast day
Along came a raindrop
More plummeted... plip-plop
And ran miss wenchie away

Magic in a touch
Gentle caress of a sound
Hearts held enraptured

Life is so full of so many ‘suits’ to try on
And I do love to wear a wide variety
But my most preferred is naked.

Natural. Wild. Untamed.

I adore you with ardor

Pounding like a drum
Each cough the hit of the snare
Explosions of white

Rejuvenation
Constellation of prospect
Predestination

Ambiance accentuer
Dalliance delicous  
Voyueristic ventures
Eyeing expeditious
Natural nutate
Tantalizing tides
Urges undulate
Rejuvenating rise
Intoxicating incantation with
Numinous notations
Gravitation gyration and
Scintillescent sensations

Look directly at them
For move they never will
Until your gaze is averted
Silently they ****
Blink and you will miss them
Encroaching ever near
Though they appear there weeping
Don’t believe their tears

There once was a man
who collected rocks.
He was five-foot two
and his name was Brock.

One day out walking
while making his rounds
he noticed a rock
that weighed 60 lbs.

It was shaped like a fish
and quite a bit shiny
with one ruby eye
that wasn't so tiny.

He wanted it badly
so badly you see
he shouted quite loudly
and made this decree

“That rock is now mine
I'll carry it home
and place it just so
in my rocky biome.”

He was doing quite well
just after the start
but the longer he walked
put strain on his heart.

He needed to rest
so he sat for awhile
wondering if he'd
survive this strange trial.

He sat and he pondered
these fateful things
when suddenly he saw
something with wings

It circled above
releasing a scream
eyes honed on him
Oh! How they gleamed.

Before he could get up
the hawk swooped on by
and pecked poor Brock
right in the eye.

Brock dropped the rock
with a loud scream
then cursed the hawk
and its dastardly scheme

The hawk took the rock
and flew away fast
He had to act now
or the moment would pass.

Brock sprang to action
began hunting it down
running all over
the streets in this town.

Holding his eye
clutching his heart
he finally stopped
thinking the hawk was too smart

He was wrong
as he turned back around
and saw the rock
lying there on the ground

Brock ran over
to go pick it up
but at the last moment
It was crushed by a truck

He looked at the pieces
with a big frown
and three minutes later
he was also run down

The purpose of life is to learn
We are the inheritors of a portion of time
We can dissipate it on futile things
Or utilize it to our everlasting benefit
The seeming imperfections of Earth
The hazards and inequalities of life
The cruelty, harshness and apparent indifference
To suffering and affliction are not what they seem; as it is,
Earth is perfect for its purpose
It is ignorance of that purpose which makes it appear imperfect
Tribulation and adversity, sorrow and suffering
Are not to be thought of as needless burdens
Imposed upon the difficulties inseparable from earthly life
They are things of value which open the eyes to Truth
Tempering the spirit, as iron is tempered in the flame.

Together we slip
Folding space and time
A moment unzipped
Paradoxical paradigm
Made and unmade
Surging elapse
A ancient plan laid
Rebirth collapse

Primal isn’t *******
for ******* sake
Primal is when
it’s stops being about
what’s right in front of you
and getting lost
in the devourment of pleasure

Each one of us is a handcrafted book,
Bound with care
And kept in a vast library.
An unseen culmination of experience
Waiting to be relevant
If even for a blip of time
In an endlessly repeating universe.