Change Of Fortune

A poet who doesn’t know it. Or rather as rye as he is it’s in the mark he tows. An Erie lake flag coming down to the riverside to reside, to dwell, to make good on a few moments without hell.

Don’t languish. Look yon and grasp mindfully the vibrancy of the air. Reach out in clemency of spirits and draft the mindful throes of your own expediant nature. The kid fears and the quick. The spacia in the stir. The nebula of glad and gossamer rainbow strands.

Within moments the availing stream has taken up the tangible and set it sailing upon the current of the waters. Brought it broad down the pathos of weir and flag. Jam and strag.

After having made the full round are you anyone who frequents the meditative state. Do you pray or contemplate the word. Does your fresh opining thought come upon the crossbone fetch of ariosa and the tempers of the clave bone? How much of a bully pulpit would it take the tea totaler to count up imperial tea. Is there a new market or a rehash of pensive collars. The works and the grand scheme of things.

I have to move on with it. I have withstood this mount until I feel like a stump. A chump on a stump playing his fiddlesticks and thrumming it out on the ole viol. Oh but for charm of sagacity. The Agatha of virtue. The benefits of the enchained daisy. A sea set of sidereal ranges. Glad strata in bump de bumpidy thumb print thump.

Where ever could be the other side of the world. Can we accept that it is away. That it feels in its own synergy. That the kitchen sink spins round one way or another but the earth is country and sea. And her inhabitants are glad of the mannered crewe. Again the crowe and his elephantine friend the fly boy has done a bang up job of propelling his rappaport with the birds into a stargyle of like satrapy. Of penchants and beneficent unto the causes of others.

Within the memory of comparing styles and suits and phials of the knowledible and loving spheres. There are souls and spirits and entities. How then are the rests we should take to be given back to the faith. Be given back to earth. Through learning and instinct I would think is the answerable acolyte of the given gnosis.

The Ommm and others the mantras, of a moray rambling the mundi mind. Now settling into things thoughtless and almost renunciative. Letting go of things and ideas and predilections of auld gammons. The heydays of youthful practicality. Of resource and enginuity.

Having made the full round of glam afternoons. Taken to glide and tamed by repose. A dualistic might of poles and Shiva stick supernals. The auld shanty in the wooden hill. A wheelhouse sequestered in the deep trappings of a rare season with the acquainted Earth.

Given to sharing of aptitudes for relative nature’s. The likelihood of seeing through hoaxes by the lands down set. A citizen like quandary of strides and reassurances amongst people’s of a no unsimilar tide. The day in it’s crisscross continuity. The night in it’s crawl through milky starlight and kept lamps. The diurnal cycle coming round with the ribboned and golden arms and sleeves.

A system of caparisons girdironing upon the thoroughfare in up and down and roundabout drives of the up-and-coming and the long ago. No ghosts. Just spirits and thoughts of a delightful memory. In the arcs and palls of wind some and gracious soul. The last bound before footfall returns once again. As if to assuage and to reinforce.

Embracing with smiles and sparkly eyes. Good for the hours to serve. Against the travail and monotony of lost bounty on simple wit. A retinue of sandbox travelers. Early upon the morning in the guided and hand to hand practices of freedoms. Left by the gate and slowed down. A time to quit it. Made for passing light. And to rebound.

A Study Of Themes 2014/08/13

Appraisal of themes dramatica. Liet motiff theatrica. A fabling hour empathica. And the wanted embrace deeming.

Can sweet bye and byes. Urging anyone to sympathesize. With the quick of light and the wise of lies. Set sail or leave the quandary scheming.

With letters addressed what may avail. The pearly gates endangered to prevail. A certitude on clement street writ scale. The vapid aether winds up in the air creaming.

Liberate to flag a qually dodge. Stir up a pot of fleshy homage. Make good on done deals about the boarding lodge. For a night’s stay out in the streaming.

Make roost of chorales on platform decks. To take on a burden, treat the rejects. Waft fleeting bodhi the gain elects. To find out for good the weather’s down in the dreaming.

Anima animated in like cullies supposed. Fragrant meadows heavily drowsed and low. A malarky train bandying with Augustine groved. The very light comes liturgical and gleaming.

If Suns recede from surpassing rays. Like a dew laden field of feeling clays. A pleasant reprieve upon toppem cat Heath blades. The hooks and Barbie tabs remit in flashes beaming.

Backwater country making out a spirit for this dew. The meadow press warmed alive under foggy brew. A long lasting look on the lady and her eyes full of blue. Like a shiproy stir nums the grace to go on steaming.

We may just be together apt to surmount the idles. Take on a stretch of the rising gait goin’easy on a bridle. The bunk down night of affable chow and set on fiddle. A truth for the overjoyed parlay of Philly ziet teaming

Discourses & Parlances

Talk about the rhetoric. The happy hunting grounds. The Stargate and the mountain’s song. Play up Swany river in the tremblings of an outbound gestalt. The theosophy of trillobytes.

Plagued field hockey consort. Team efforts to make it out to the fair show. Grand Gypsy eloquence at tapping in the goal. Here we are amongst the lipped and the laundarer. Make out good at reading scrolls of potent bone fodder.

The good old mission church treating chillies with brimstone. The image being supplanted by its fiery host. 60-400 ways of gauging the illimitable and the folk geste in its plurality of the remit in the casual extant.

With a guest book of the tripping high and mighty. The recondite demand for pompus license. The fate of the big, bad, Boston Creme. Sitting on the counter like a rematch fridge keeper for the Associated cops on their pedestrian beat.

Walking to the sound of image. We are all real good keepers but he is steel on the link iron asserted. We will to brave the clement of notions. We turn out to look through the daylight heats at the supposed rabbit tales. Them whose lines mix up mastications of the pouty coyote bitch and her new collared brood of babes..

Its a spinning take on the raptures of the well cultured. Its a grasping at the scratch of molecules. The permagrin slide of matters own horn. Amounting to as much. The general opinion that surveys the lay of the land. Spacious, airy cappadocious labors making out for the broad waters.

The semblance of flying opining choice with too much fodder. Telling the whammy ball to requit the dodge of aces. Give and get back. Like a silly putty gamut runner.

Having made out for the gangway and spilling down the beltway like rainbow man and his emissary, the brave cloudwalker. Trip it on down along with the ropes of a fiddle roger. Let be flying clout in the peacekeeping efforts. Also in the block and quizzing zingers for the ambergist and viand pouring wine.

Tumbling blocks of woo. The procrastinator’s will is to carry his bliss to the moon. Where chi anthems are no hour of exploit. No the weir of staying is vouched for apparent in the musings of the sobriquit of folly. The OMG realization that I should have started a long time ago.

In Competition With Convenience 2000/09/09 Thursday

How does one enter the public domain? Do those who have their rights reserved? What if I were to cross over into the public domain? How would there be someone to escort me, as in a service?

Write, write well, and you will come to this posture, this passage, to lay down extant your remains. And don’t over worry how it will go for the next artisan, the next participant. The next person to feel those thoughts, to hear that saying.

For some it will be a higher power that draws a link between you two. Between you and the next or even between you and a someone who came before.

But if your writing doesn’t work out and you find you have no such rights before those thoughts. And feelings and sayings slip from your fine fingers back into the ground. The common acre, the open domain. Well then maybe you should try Algebra.

Give A Fig, Define A Tree

Climbing. Ambling. Delightfully walking the bout around in my day. Talking and walking and exhorting great sympathy for the changless grange. Jeez! Someone get the old bear to go on and roll over. How romantic yes. But the glazy eyed sleepers are in an expressly dampened portion of the official roost. The dank drabbies have only more to accustom themselves with the caress of breezy time to know that a tight spot is remiss. That is to say there is no holdover in nights’ cahoots to run implored. The self knows. The day commits. And the nights do pass.

Scale and wages. Full on passion directed toward the thief! Come away from your spoils. There is no foul play that has needs be labeled cheat. The higher ups on the wagon into town. Going to get a barrel or two of the local snuff juice. Hope the rye is key to the holdings of the house. Born on the well side of the measure and containing the elemental and the anodyne.

A blazon making quick exchange with the sky. The players in assay with their weight. To bear it away and remove the stigma from the pie. No steal for the crickets provender or striding locusts to take from the honey pot. All welcome to partake by the course. Bound sellers in their market stalls. The great trading halls laying out tender for surety. Promises for security blankets. The leader of the pack backing down before the hallow heart.

Bees knees! Your burden is truck. Waltz right in and pluck that flower from the wall. And the next one! And them ones after that. A box of hats doesn’t strike you down from your mill. Leave them same sorrows of efforts to the greetings of salutations.

Pick up your gear and don’t lambaste the seasonal climes for their refrain. So thus in not furthering the extent of consumption by placating one’s footprint there. You have simples to live and let be.

Accept a little light into your hearts. To acknowledge is to recognize is to gain acquaintanceship with a level in the upstanding mind. If you are to don your cap and fly please just don’t buy Crow pie for the pandit to outfit. Please give to the reeves of your village something more sublime and yet still subtle. The hopes of a generous thane are in the compass of your faith in the new survival.

That can be respected and and let go of. Oh but for the repasse of flighty birdsong from the arid reach. Beach sand deserts. The just and virtuous. Sinclair and succinct. By measure of dose. A gone deal gone down. Those rites have passed. Et al fine and so gone.

Curmudgeon petitioning their man of God. Take the pulpit MAN! Free up this savage race and don’t commit your trespasses here again. The Gods in heaven have no time for your blindness or your maddening exalts either. The day to apprehend is the one you must wish to pass by.

That is the Seeker and the earth for its salt. What ocean’s remove would failsafe such an implausible breach of candor and decorum and those things strangely relying on the drunkard and his wine. California in the old days the passion play of quiet mountain running ships. Make for town and fuck yeah!

To blame the professor for a bit of bad luck is the fate of the Hempseed and the Buffalo. Dagger reaches for his loom and espies the crumby ropes. Mofo of the pentacle set. A manner of putting on your own suit. Still In the service of others but blind now and fooling. Beating that glad drum with the best of them. Bang, bang, hey wait a minute! Why do you want them gone. Did your ill spoken mete not head your Mystery out. Did you have the last laugh?

Taking advantage of death and all that. Goodbye snafu. Goes to show your weight replaces the gold with drose. It is a smidgen gone and you have to bitch. Woe unto the beholding lank of shifty sand dollar alibis. You knew it of the Lord. The mercy. You might as well accept it of a good woman. Don’t you think?

Magic, Spirit, Healing, Practice

Fear. Fear of death. Fear of the unknown. And the converse. Those things longed for, or sorrowed after or in so many ways more familiar found to overjoy.

Boo! Aaaah. Ooooh. Yes. Yes I see it now. The long walk up from posterity has found few paradigms that are willing to put it down again. It would seem the Sun was set on a skew wrapped in packing tape and then sent by the barrel like oil for sipping spoons to dole it back out at $100 a pop! Ah yes 👍 casterated oil, snake 🐍 oil, ketchup, patent goods and hairbrained ideas.

Is it beauty that escapes us in looking over? Do the various rites of passage deigned fit for youth at least give us time for a good glimpse at what that beauty provides. We are living longer. I can see in some sense that we are maturing slower. I can see much of the mass hobnobbing down the road. Itself staying mostly silent in it’s affections. And yet there it is also. Stumbling horribly when the gregarious nature of the Holy See at such times looks only to capture or encapsulate that mass for it’s own privy. It’s losing battle with the control principal forced out upon the Western beam.

The demiurge is a well acquainted romantic in the guise of man. Unfortunately having once or a few times seen the great beauty of the Universal and it’s accompanying dreams their is all to often that uninhibited want of the fool to try and ring the thing by the neck. Unfortunately.

The quavering breadth of aetherial space and it’s surround of the Earth is an entity of no uncertain persuation. Let Mother Nature be. Let her ways remain free of the constant need to turn her into a queen bee pumping out the flesh to be forced to survive on a limited planet of now diminishing resources. Let the vision be. But do not repeatedly ask for the weird or freaky when those things out of control do not belong in your direct means of manifestation.

The Earth and the Universal are physical in so many ways. But God and Mother Nature are not always involved in the matter to the same extent. Confusing this issue has literally put us behind the wheel of our own destruction. It would be a whole lot wiser if the roll call of the flesh were not so highly conceited by the want of power 💪 brokers to take control of everything that comes before them or happens to pass their way throughout the normal cycles of life and death in revolution of the heavens.

We are failing at this test of our spirits miserably. The more of a grip we need on the collar of earthlife and mankind the less coherent are we in our person and the more liable and inculpable we are in regards to those things that still remain out of our reach. Not to make that want of possession out to trespass. And not to further taint the remaining domains of regenerative Earth. Knowing not to entertain our jealousy and pride in going about always trying to divine the creative nature of life is a best practice.

It is simple enough to be thrilled at times by the nature of the world 🌎. While those things without a good nature are like a burden of the cross. Inanimate. Bent. Dark as a hole. And demanding the flesh for it’s perversity and it’s pilage.

The right to live a life of spiritual practice while making good on the surrounding environment is not all about the medium of exchange. The best measures to calculate by can usually be apprehended just by finding them where they happen to lay. And dark or macabre as you might think that ease is to be found in the grave. Not the body dead and packed away in a six-sided box with an appropriate tombstone kind of grave. But in regards to the heavenly bodies of the solar system, the Galaxy, and thus the Universe.

That meaning of the grave will bring us into time of being together with the likeness of our offspring and brethren. It will go so far as to open the gates of heaven. And it will keep the constitution of the body human nice and snug.

Still it is best to beware of strange tidings in that grave. Hold your own and try to stay safe when it comes to letting go. Of those things dross or unnecessary. Always coming up with the foment of tide in the washing of the many sands. Knowing them that are longing for respect and acceptance. And not to be disuaded by the crass handling of a medicine wheel bunch of drunken lunatics.

Faith to me seems the best approach to the unknown and yet that faith remain within the realm of possibility. Communication is a working kind of faith. Relate to one another in an honest means to convey what might simply be called wisdom or at least that it is sage.

Stories and reckoning are good. But so is the tradition of honor which does not always get spoken of lightly or in times of jest. For the better care of this planet and her children I would continue in the scale of this practice and make good on the peace of a peaceful community.

Stay fit and practice good health. Remember though to respect others if there wishes or means of keeping up that practice does not include those things outside their element and without their own good blessing way or a belief in a higher power. We are a familiar set of individuals whose own discretion will best bring each of us into the light of peaceful community and cohabitation. Beyond that the only ones we need control are our ourselves.

Open Contest 2000/02/05

Spit fire-open contest. And he in his attire has chosen to gather with the par event in horizon.

When will the Zepher attract its cohorts? How shall Ecumenicus return to the deft renown?

With a jiff of the trick. So up air hardy you’ll not rather have them sick.

Each with a one of his exhalations. Providing explanations. And the rippled speech of your common seer.

This I say has entendre closer to sense than any ultimatum my dear.

Cloud Clarity

A clarity of space. Some hilarity in the race. A gander at the stock of our neighbors. A daily listing to chores through many labors. To reeve forth the unguent. To reap broad stars of lusty pent. A divine conflagration of peoples. Over broad passes and many steeples. The makeshift predilection of towers. From loose shrifts, the humble bowers.

Cavalcading like streetfell hippies. A curry of fell dashes from a sky paints paths trippy. Het diagramatical lour embellishing sheens of the topical spheres. Tectonic arch craftsman at the gears. With thunderbolt and looming shrouds. The way they stack up they’re as alive as the clouds

‘Sage’ The Horse(cantus abilus) Fall 1996

My sage has spoken to me of dreams in my head. That will come to life if my body can just grow old and not dead. My own love, in the Summer, a laud. No work to do, not a lien to place on Hod.

Oh great Sage of the Midwestern states. Come seek with souls to hymn and enunciate.

My great horse is named ol’ Sage. He eats locusts on a plate with mayonnaise.

Oh great Sage of my ocean. You are a great and good river flowing. All of your name I will soon need knowing. When I gain the key to your foreboding. And your grand waters make us out for growing.

I wish in any age to tread your waters. To await the day and return of your daughters. ‘Tis no shame to pay for a passage across with barter. So I took my lass to the riverside and there a movie I shot of her. I don’t possess your soul though I may be a martyr.

A real big river is on my mind. Rainfall is a very good sign. Way up North along the pines. Lazy in a stream with a boat’s incline. A levee on a way with sleeps to cull in winning wine.

Iconoclastic Fete Stances 1996/08

On Autumn nights when the rye in the fields has been harvested and put into bundles. Merrily and with stealth comes the cather of hay into the rye. To garner away the faith of accumulated clave ceps of purpura from off the stalks. The bundled stalks of rye.

Politicians would argue to keep the clave crow on the rye and let the seekers have their fill from the milled grain and suspiration throughout the year slowly drawn along. But the cather could refuse and go out to pick a many lot in order to brig back the letryses of the garland with him to make out well in doling the larder of his accomplices. The gud stamp of the dance set.

Occasionally when propositioned by gypsies’ and their ghost and when they had enough some was given away. At the want of the best specimen for ingestion. Simply they are were boding of the thrown chances in a lucred plight. The having of dances in the arms of iconoclastic fete stances.

The politicians realizing the light coming long before dawn. Stalwart in doubt as to the wind weaving of survival in their grain stores and stirs. Wondering without refrain and often shunned. From the interior country where the travelers were known for coming out with the laughingstock of the rogue and rambling, the revelers and a rake.

The fact that gypsies had their own sundries of a tailor and wine to speak of the vintner of bleaky sun aum mantra chant nourishment. Taken heartfelt to dreaming child gait and sweet reminiscences. With strange calender romances they would thus have their dances in private on mountain sides beneath the moon.