K

Kilimanjaro, Killington, the big K. Food as stepping to the big time. Skunked out. Goes further. On a VW microbus in the 70th reign of an old codger. Tramps and homebodies make exchange out of turnovers’ throe and the gauntlet of an idle caste into cold lounging Thebian Democrats.

Reading up on the precipitous designs of some Wintertime haunts. Slave papers of the Federalist broadside. Truth be knowing, or rather the persuasive glam disreputers of the qualm surfieting backdoor of proper sensibilities. Peradventure amongst the conquest of lies. Those suicidal trappings of almost or not quite good enough. Maybe you had better. So don’t try that again.

If the length of day in a given season’s countenance were to get down to business. Were to propitiate in the realm of constancy. Gave up the number of lost sheep to the sorrows of the shepherdess. With her spirits in ascension and the night offset by the relative darkness of unconscious knowledge. A way of precluding the alms satiety of being prepared by the wellness of sleep.

A manner of exercising in the house of dreams. Finding those functional and elavating nuances of the word and its relative frames of reference. Resulting in the accents and conditional quality of those terms patios and divergent. An open door to the daybreaking ahead.

The Eastern primacy of having gleened proper rest from the depth of field accomplished in an eight hours long bedstay. Drawn through quarters fit for dream reveries and lowdown decisiveness of consistency. The morning dew and those dramatic urges of the spiritual cast into the hourly sands making their way through the glass of a welcome night’s keeping.

When the day remits the progression of a rising Sun to the congress of what is a lot like kicking up the dust to make hazy the gathern light. Between blue morning and rosy Sunset the mind does tend to its weal. The body also must have needs gain its impetus. Extending welcome to those things of worthy exercise and the accomplishment of works.

Emotions on the side of the heart that turn the tide of physical constitution and earned completeness of an otherwise foundling figure. Also, to make a day out for the good and fulfilled, there is the quest of spirit. Be it a blessing of the Angels for their God or a recouperation of over exertion in the field of bodily rigorous and doubty awareness.

And of what does this stem? This mindfulness of those things advantageous and fruitful. Contemporary in the continued state of peace. Willingness determined by regularity of gait and foment of thoughts upon the sharing of the family tide. A moral aside and the rest of passive entities in the later days rank and file comprehension of those things learned by craft and given to care and by lore of rote.

I will save my chiding of the unresponsive diaspora for its own sake. Let the post know that there are refutations upon the score of the leaden weighted waters. That there is a scism and a stigma between the feats of Mother Nature and those unnatural tendencies to try and make propitiate an unyielding religion.

To worship a God in heaven to me seems the best way to surrender my soul to the rising and falling tide of a practice made out of prayer. Moving forward afield and very far in the daily processional of time and its capacity to make out the liberal turns of its touch with human agency.

Within this church of the earthly matters. This proud Mother of the legions of Earth. She is many faces of beauty and familiar discernment is her vast memory of the way things once were and how best they might also be brought to fruitfulness once again. By the limn and deskry of her peace, her nature, her clear ides of the middle path.

That is no onus. I say the mark of a fool cannot too long go without the notice of its parentage. If they in their role remain faithless know that the condition is really much worse. It is not truly that they are alack. It is really rather that they are a quire full of many consuming beasts.

Out of my earshot and ready to stop the presses until they and their paper tigers, their paper and fire, is just as quick mete with its remove. The word, you sense, is an old and humbled matter of typical things. The reason for liberty in its experience, for exercise in its creative measures, and for conclusion in the leading tones of its more impractical discords.

It avails all, none the less, in the simplist way to stem from praise, from fear, from experience, and from the storying tendencies of repeating its understandable means. By occasion and lesson and to a considerum at bouts with speech in making acclaims outright unto statements of desire and want of beauty. The commiserate levity bound in an incorrigible manner of a culumny to wit. Baubles of that which betides in the carolous fallacies of too much to go by.

The futile judgements of prayer. The tried over and crass notion that what becomes is at best a state of the estranged and lucky. The beat and the dread. The devil and his folly. Mi thinks a ring like that is hands down shared by the many over the few. The parallel against the spoil of loath. A lord beknownst unto sound commitment of conscious, current, and glad triage of days. Port of call and beck of downs respite lacking dodge.

Within the realm of most folks the ‘raison de etre’ is a unique concept. It becomes clearer when one realizes, when one is coaxed, when one is taught the understanding that we have a good hand in our own fate. That we are not bent, that from birth on any progressively inclusive means of raising our spirits and our children and ourselves out of the primordial soup of time manifested and life encapsulated instancy.

A system of relating one to another or in a group setting a cast of players in the guise of costume preparing and acting out the nature and elavating the notions of a determined and estelliate sense of meanings. Through the agency of its players in the most capable manner of an acquired practice.

We are not alone in our cosmic interplay of good times and hard fate. We are simply being taxed by the efforts of those others whom will not just take care to take care of themselves and out of the business and livelihood of a regular and empassioned crewe of conceivably infinite beings.

Whether we are looking straight to our fore or we have compromised our situation. Must we be bid our remove at least? This unto the general condition of consensus values. That it can be ellucidated upon and we can believe in the ability to think for ourselves. Let us seek out confidantes and have the need for a mutually resciprosperous call to respect ourselves and others in an equal and well tempered conservation. Called for as our very same individual and personally attributive existences can go on and continue to prove to be true unto ourselves, our loved ones, our community and the nation.

World renown is best left to the ages. The tide of folklorico in the histrionics of a plaintive tadoo. Given to the muse and welcome unto the uprising of youth. Gerrymandering of the suit. A gilded splinter left haywire. Finding relief only in those same sands of time that the hourglass itself remains to continue to behold.

Cantus Abilis

The shade, the winning link. The one that the presses chose to go by. Whether a lemon still belongs in the tree or is it now got for the white picket fence as well. Taking part in a long and ornately drawn series of parades. There in the flight zone of the aviary and the walker of clouds. With the amalgam and the parlor fan. The frequent restitution of query.

The choice to be dishonest. To what purpose and to what ends. The spectrum is rather broad. One could simply choose to look out for another. Then again one could actually be trying to frame a loose acquaintance in their own feats of death defying grace. The relation with God whereby prayer and supplication along with offering and petition are led up toward the alter of receiving the divine into the heart, the loins, and the mind.

Somewhere like the chakras. Less mottled though. Really giving to each other the plea of dissemination. In the step taking, in the free exercise, and with all the tenderness and care that a loving set of open arms could give you. With these precepts in the rational field of change. Whereby no trespass is survivable in its own unnecessarily divergent and nasty want of a constant state of quarrel.

The need to make it out to change comes upon us again. It asks for the familiar. That which is in its essence a turning of the ephemeral charge. Blues and sunshine yes, but with the impression that not all will stay the same. Day by day through much seeking and in making out no such feckless saltiness in the take on the universal and its broad ocean swaths. With the rivers and currents both breaking up on the shore.

Long on the road is the way of the kenning song. The certainty that a jackdoe or her friend the muledeer can light up the marquees and spotlights on this man’s new run on the long Broadway. Walking with the sides and asides of the bully tom boss lumber yards. Inimitable given to the pathos of the tourists and scapeys. A penchant for the abased tonality in the transmission of freeweight and dummy’s bell.

Continuum, inertia, and perpetua. The glad free former in a gladdened gait of highstepping. Along the wickets, along the thickets, in the pitch and keep of the very blossoms’ troe. Down lengths of animate forested path. Fortunate as the believer in her garden. Looking over the lost crop of apostates prudent at the death of their pig. Does he still need that ring in his nose? Must his ears remain on fire and will he ever see straight so much again?

I must be sure the laggard slaggard aces remember their five finger discounts. So much for the name of fire. A supposed fallow light where the tramps have to excuse the trees from burning, the animals from dying, and the human flesh from conceiting itself and say please let it all in. Slating up karma and reciprocity for devil worship. Earth body disease point lye. The inquisitive lie. That must break the bough from its wise, from its nature, from its instinct.

A broken West heisting its own satisfactory course. The ride pig and her hustle in the slave yards of the forgotten sonambulist ditch. Stray dogs barking, braying with mules, howling with the wolves at the moon in the mid of night.

Cakewalk Into Town

When I am asked whether or not I would give it a whirl. If I am willing to see it all turn the way around. If I wish to go for a ride or even at best when asked if I would simply like to get lucky. Well then all to often I either put my foot in my mouth or I wind up attempting to dig my own grave. And if I do so happen to survive withal and whetherwhicheven if a bit. It is by the skin of my teeth and by the seat of my pants.

What breakneck pace, what surreal reel, what inclination to perceive that the rather well known means to get up there with the crow and bang the drum of emancipation is a skit-like and apprehensive means of setting back the derigors. A quaint psalter of the dipstyche and baited moot. Within the merited condition of respectus. A glimmer from the sidereal campus of the adept consanguaine.

By the time my switzer gets washed of its fleecies. When the olde lady says chillin’s is at even by the werted cloe and malarky drempt of steadfast steam. In the baring of hearts. In an unindation of storm. Who now trades in the weather fly a vane of the contented brave of wishes. The young in their wise. Somebody’s day longing idalyc friend.

As I see it the best ingredient in a good recipe must acquaint the work ethic with the memory of sustinance behind a curly red bow. If she is to continue in the regard for the fleet footed horseplay of dinosaurs then the same digest should be of no less an easement into conscious toils of starpup and reinder dog.

While the hours wreck less anymore than they used. There is still the gladfreaks and goodfellows of the patronage and ship for the new song in the way of the commons. The peacetide of the righteous sound clave horn. As the gridlock of deepwoods fat is left in the breathy den of the warrior numer of a bear.

When deep sea locks on honeypots frugally embark toward that furthest shore. As if there were only the turning of an heartbeat upon the ocean. From the upward gaze at the sun ‘neath the calm and sufficient home of the prognostics and precarious similes of the latest let it all hang out bearers of the local accumulation of tropes.

An entity of the Cultus persuasion. The Hokum and the pleasant. The fraught no longer and neither disparaged. Into the depth of field fit for release and quintessentially bound for higher ground.

What amounts to the cascading foreplay of falling light. Upon the grass, upon the trees, into most any nook and cranny that could exist prayerfully and also mindful of the entertainment crawling with the board. That sometimes we are less well in looking to close at an image of relation when there seems to exhibit the foundling response to stimulus as it quenches both repose and thirst.

There must come to pass as well the exuberance to take on an urgency of consequence to fare the call to repasse. In later days upon further stategems of the conscious meld of a flourishing setti of the galavant crewe. The meagre knows moor. What have you! But the question as to how there be by the memory of recall some guise of frequents into the Astra, the almond, and the palmade.

The gregarious walk and the infidel squawks. The few that remind to see the recourse are the burden of a cradled dew. Advance and come afore the bee anglers back from their remove. So to choose to let be at their peace what school the constitutional menanders of a revolutionary queue.

Ride out singing of the Imago and the mundi. The great remembered jaugernaut flummoxing it’s weal. Jingly jangly nervousa ricktodd through the paseos of a forested canopy floor. The wild and rambunctious rag a tag systems of the quartered and the fancy free. Out and about in the jack of all trades consistency of a driver path tread on.

To reach without wrechedness. Both the elaborate and the sinclair. A ropes and pulley means to make hoisted foisted seas of the last cannery in the row. To appease, to endure of the turning of hellish gate and evicera. To stake no more claim to the destined number of outstanding fete.

Church due where there occur the intranscience of simpletons seeking rhyme. To say yes to the landlubber and the seafaring and bridge the gap out avast between what lies hither, or thither and even fur and yon.

The last balast to make out for throw and guide. Entreating a lofty sarcasm up into the clowering fledge of the sacrosanct denizens. Conferring in their idles of the presumed after spinners’ cup for fits. Across the bow and maxing out upon the barometer. Clemency of all but the most fleeting of acrid bane wastrel bale and face and menagerie.

No more recalcitrant hammers of the gamey witch to have make glowwer or scole. Seize what momentum have you to accomplish in order to make right your path and escape the flagrant apostates in the aura and scene of a towbar and a driven casement of nails. Surfieted Interlopers of nothing doing.

Rusted now and begging the question over whether or not the day had its acclaim. The night will have it’s treetop. The next dawn will come with an air. The story, the song, the dance will settle and score and soon enough find its rest concurrent in the pottage of miller and truck. Swaggers and Sterno cans. Satisfaction and bliss