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 A nothing from nowhere cast his words to a world wide wind, hindered by periphery. |
| I was not stirred by dawn. I denied The window and the sun’s returning love. I’m not bitter, but not getting better Where the stars could align. Trapped By all the observances of every blinking light When darkness culled me — but no cure For a lamp light — scribing in all determination Of what learned by absence of wavelength Surrounding a mind endlessly filling. In the canyon lurks a beating with strength Tens of them cannot pin down to deliver Their medicine unnatural. I inhale/ingest science, And when the math finally works out, I require Conference. Mine is not the only knowledge That conceives where skies deceive, hide Truth Of something greater for each of us. Am I abolished as something seeking the greater — Not purveyor of the devoid, without question’s answer, As a mechanic of nothing but borrowed parts, crude oil Hands with red cloth rub, requiring a soul’s debt? Anchored to the wheel and gears of my mind, There are places to spy of what I am to pay Witness. God could be in man, but each man Seeks fate’s destiny, does not accept redirection From a horizon by subscription plying Master-Card. And do you know why I still camp in the same spot? Any could ask, as I would tell. But some things Must remain a mystery, as clouds obscure lunar love. When I find home, when I’m truly received, He will know. And if he lives inside Me, humility can reveal. But until All impossibility can align before death bed regrets, The return of each day’s light will continue to ache. Should death be the lone purpose, it arrives by His love. But, math can be complex, not to be subjective, unless Something left out, missing, is withheld — I’m on to something? A Coda to end today’s aria-opera dramatic — The mind IS beautiful where it gets outside the magician bag, with gift of misdirect, as faithful follow that bouncing ball. Disbelievers who disrupt illusion — the required suspension — need be asked to leave? No one fools themself more than the magician. No one mails it in more when they don’t attempt conception, ask question, where truth is not a potion sold — not fun feeling cheated. Yes, yes, move on so they next can get a refill, they’re not barred to witness the most awesome wonders, not found in pixel boxes but outside the clear pane, when absence of light gives believers GLIMPSES OF HEAVEN. 6-18-25 The winning number of how many lines in this poem’s jarred head: 46 You don’t have to read all. Only my eyes suffer for this.
It continues (for those still on today’s tour) Glimpses of Heaven Where can I view? I seek beauty. Yes, I seek truth. Are these concepts? Please don’t trivialize science as disbelief. God can coincide, but where’s your particle? Why are there mysteries, yet? Why do you act, but reveal to me as unknowing of any more thing? What are you withholding, if God does, or shouldn't exist? Can I be impatient waiting on answer…not obliged? If told — suspend your disbelief — what movie do we see? Handed a nickel and ‘go out and play’, adults, adult talk, adult stuff. What could they know that doesn’t prevent a boy of wonder who kept on searching —————————— (s)ince an early age, sleeping on the ground, cosmic energy was spied, lit afire entering Earth’s atmosphere. But, told Nursey Rhyme ignorance - Shooting Star, repeated again and again through every moronic medium, safe- guarding legends of stars ~ that you can touch ~ and all nonsense, when…they died years ago, sending radioactive transmissions long after. Sadly, like an entire existence, given to collapse, bound by gravity of a dark matter event, absence of electromagnetic wavelength stirrings hide while others cool in dominion inescapable, when What’s the message? What.did.they.send? Too late for a synapse bed-frozen in figurative eternal unknown. To awake, mid-night, aged seven, to a terrible fright, telling the woman, “No, you don’t see! There’s no way we could possibly exist!” But, my authority patted damp blond, soft soothed, shushed, with beauty — love’s gentle exercise to ease. No worth fear. Knowing her, I continue, as external forces drab green flank, limit access, as technology advance further deceives. I’ve been faithful, trusted a tender woman, told she conceived me, but seem dumber with every day, if not blind trust. Good disbelief does not interfere with empathy for her deliverance of a little better than pity. I can get glimpses of Heaven, holding her hand in expanding dimension of time dreamt — an eternal vault making room for disbelievers who come around (like him) when everything on the ground makes hopelessness and homeless cede, as apathy finally complacent, delivers the keys to hands of white collar thieves, and that delivers Behavior-modified souls into the afterlife? While all scientists, Atheists, Agnostics, any between, can go to hell? Did you spot allegory in our story, morning glory? <—  added after final edit. I can’t stop laughing.Yeah. Feel pretty good right now. Something moving through — This is or wasn’t not me. Is it the meds? Meds, right? Does it matter? I was told once when I asked What kind of beer at the party. It’s beer, people! I believe in the Eleventeenth amendment…The Right To Rock and Bear Beer! 👅 ✌️ (get an emoticon to pair that) Rocking, but not to Foreigner. How about this guy, if you remember… (I’m all tingly right now. Write with me, not against. Let’s take it where it goes!) It’s always better live…  Have faith it will work out. For now, I invoke the Thorogood Act.  |
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