…AwTwiHi-Ho (I) The Awakening, The Twilight & The hidden.

Duel- tacticionary.

Quite the perplexing plexi-glass, sweat ’til you can bottle it.

In the crampest cracks of temperate max, I’ve surely just forgotten about it.

These starts and crosses, The gleam and shine, The zebra crossing, The thin blue line.

The seven awaken, the twilight dwindles and burns. But the controls of the hidden

Takes four-five to learn.

I’ve stolen a fragment. Well Buckaroo. Inside the music of the well.

There’s fuck-all else to-do.


I’m so pecé, it’s still good.
Alas, sweet read. I dig your hood.

…Flights of fantasy (X) Mid-morning tea party…

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Bewildering eyes- steam arises.
Wild light on the rise- warmth surprises.

Marking the hour- thirst as companion.
Bidden by powers- careless abandon.

Suppressed and steaming ‘neath shine and gleam
and oh, to steam – to steam — to steam!

Unsheathed, unwieldly off the banner of a dream.

To sweeten, in sorrow, pressed tight ‘gainst the veil.
What light, what power still cannot fail.
Leaping- to lark limb by stirring limb.
Stirred lightly and pressed deep within.

And so our day begins. A captured light prevalent.

Set sail by winds what rise to win.

Present at christening – naming it thusly
An ode to the thirsty.


...we do but little that we might endure
xo

…Flights of Fantasy (VIII) Everything must go…

No returns

Your divinity is lived-in
There’s a mark upon serenity.
The fire-sale can begin
Anything but the vanity table.

Conscience Make an offer
Loyalty, if you can find it
Goes with all your clobber
Especially with patience to wind it up...

I don’t know how the mug got in there…
That’s not for sale.

well-being’s a bargain.
Intention’s seen better days.
The bric-a-brac, like hope and that…
left over from my convention days

Few scuffs around the edges, mind.
The virtues could use a varnish.
You’ll find the peace is missing some.
The sanctity’s all tarnished.


Anything can be good with garnish — give it time.

…Flights of Fantasy (VII) The Other Wrist…

The after-care special

I’m at a loss.

So where then do you find me.
It’s a fine cap you’ve feathered, boss.
With your subsequence behind me.

You knew me well, you started.
I suspect you fobbed along.
A rhyming scheme imparted.
Your recall, very hop-along.

And brazen, in brackish waters, you slip and you slew
What a to-do then, that you were the one I needed
In order to get through it all. My insides on the outside.

Catch me if you can.
Around you, I couldn’t catch a cold.
But you’ll likely not see me again.
Quit ‘yer caterwauling!!


Be for it

Fall away, there’s nothing left
Call off the day, the time’s bereft
of all you’ve known– you’ll come to see

she’ll let you think that you are free

Freedom is a choice– given one
you’ve already given up on yours
Fall away, back in-line. It’s gone

how to be two, not leave one

Exhale, it’s not a failing. You must fall short
When not exhaling, avail yourself of the support
Sharper focus, of course — Careful reminder

she was behind you, waiting for you to find her

Out-of-order, fall to the border
Your catch-and-release program awaits
Afford yourself the restraint– failure to wait

he’s right behind her, never to find her


strawberry fields do not pluck themselves

 

…Flights of Fantasy (III) Charm-bracelet…

SCREW CAPS

She bought the wrong toothpaste.
I picked up the wrong lightbulb.
She gets upset when I don’t reply quickly.
I ignore the toothpaste.

We work better with screw caps anyway.

Induction

This is where we came in.
Not the royals.
Or the unwashed poor.
You’ll find your complimentary mug in the bag under your desk.

It’s where you’ll be sleeping for the foreseeable.

Seriously… SCREW CAPS!

This inflection means that I am loud.
Not angry.
Not excitable.
Screw it.

You knew that anyway.


but welcome to the conversation…

/[vL]

…The words turn about the axis (XVII) The Borderline…

Play for powers– lasts for hours
Wetter, pet, in April showers.

Lapping up irrelevance
Map left, right? Make sense.

Forecast claim– it follows. And tracks
This house is kept clean. No watch for the bats.

The owl is in season. The hat he supposes.
It’s cozy in Winter, miss. The door you chose– his.

Spring forth in season, miss.
It’s the one you didn’t notice.

Madness is missing in action, in fact.
His dagger is absent.
Without you he’ll leave.
Argue? I’ll let you.

He’s far away, playing a day.
With a card that upset you.

Cross the border-collie with whatever breed you find.
Sharpies keep the order, hun. We’ve no lines in mind.

Irreverant words missed.
Who’s in charge of house-keeping?

I suspect at the leavers’ do, feed will be splayed.
In advanced position, she posts to you.

but you never make the grade.
He still listens to you.

…Stupid Dog.