Kettle Bell

Looking into the gloom in an amusing and songwriting kind of typecast need to presently go about the ruins of this late war. Without fatuous displays make good on my coventry and in God’s good service, try to at least, to bring about weal in earning my wage. If this need to attest, to query, to make good on promises and petitions. And the descritory confluency of ramshackle husbandmen speaking of womins and lambs. Also Clara, and Elsy and Bessy, and May.

That the fielding of ryeman and crossbearer go passable into the drink and are reliable beholding unto the pools of a shoreline ocean at low tide. Good enough to collect supplicant realities of the rolling sands and the cut loose bottoms. With currents of the old whaleroad coming to bouts. Drawn upon the sea from the outlet of rivers worldwide and deluvian in their release to the high spirits. Clowning the rafts and jambs in their escapement of fealty unto the campus of those broad waters.

A crow’s harbour of the woeful and right to pity. A last ditch effort to get up to snuff in the lackaday and upright and relieve the hoveled and the pinched. With the nuance of charming clatter and the charge of a hospitible drum. Hoops and solace in the turning gait of independents’ that quivels and spits, burns out and fiercely requits the display of teeth.

With every other semblance to the reel strayed out to a glen of the fielding career. The gear and the Wright’s foot. A kings’ ransom for the fearing of civility. The goat’s head soup of a cavalier and assuming despondency. How it clears the roof and supports the filch for his carrolus innurement of medicinal blends and denatured tinctures.

A breadth of cover inclement to the diaspora of run down streets. The emblazoned recalcitrant, a stuffed goose of the bonnie pike. How now brown cow. Where does your garten frail its picts? Are the wicked and parsimonious the same flagrants of repasse as the rioter and his ill acquainted dogs. Not to die outright but within the guise of the earthly church. That sovereign empowered in the creature beats and elemental scions of the dutiful and fruited.

Surrendering to the clandestine hinterland of subjugated viands of green. As if the running down of burr and tawn. Where in the sidereal cogent of placer rhymes and cordial assays makes good on the all to often henpecking of dispassionate qualms and painted glare of a south going mystic.

The book gets thrown. The laurel crown it falls along with the thorny and them gone up and died. Only the ivy seems to understand the apparent lack of penchant honesty in the tooth gnarled pugh and quarrelous hangers on. If you don’t know then you are a lying fool. Got no real need to identify with any other than the devil and his Satan stick. Always in repair and high tallying to the tune of ignorance too toward earth-centric consistency. A regularus mood disparity amongst the locus of illegitimate sinners. At taught with the steal of the official broken plate diners. Without, the gone mayers just continue to place their jimmy the crow spinners and say I me mine you stupid farce of Witchhazel and blazing beginners. When the lie ties off it is at the betrayal of its persuasion. Not too many freakshow winners left to bring in papa his review of the wicked kempt treats.

No most of those people wound up kicking themselves in the head before they could get out of the way of the mess they were bringing. Eh? What’s that? No repulse for your thoroughfare. But I thought you were assuaged in your horrendous reprieve. Don’t tell me your back here for being such a complete pain in ass was all over again. Well the sickness of disease does enjoy the voluntary slave. Much booty to go to their bouts with chainsaws and watchers and in short order bring on the remove of the shrubbery. From its reminder, from its satiety, from its mien.

Wise Gymnasium Treats

Once, when I was 21 years olde, I went to sleep on Christmas Eve, in a Gynasium with about 60 other people. It was all gentlemen and we were in Los Angeles and the gynasium was serving as a men’s shelter. I was in the middle of the room. I had an acoustic guitar and a backpack under my cot to worry about but given the general report of murmering voices in the candlelike light and the wealth of good Holiday spirit that all of seaside Southern California is known for, I worried not and slept through the long night. I believe it was about 10:00pm and I think I slept until 5:30am the next morning.

The entire trip I was on had started when heading out of Eugene Oregon, looking for a Thanksgiving Meal to go to with the folks at ‘Welcome Home’, I had misplaced the road I was supposed to be on and was faced with the possibility of traveling quite a bit further and took that opportunity to continue my trek. And so within an additional day or two I hitchhiked all the way down to Santa Barbara CA. I arrived downtown late and caught a musician in need of some help with his gear and to thank me for my service eventually offered me the ride that would be my final leg into the city of Los Angeles.

This was specifically Venice beach where I can remember simply walking out beyond a cement outcropping into the sand to seek my bed. There with a tough camping sack and upon finding a depression in the ground I fell until morning into restless blissful dreaming about Tinseltown and Hollywood. Hearing the waves and some few nightbirds I was able to get to sleeping a good night’s rest before the rising Sun and the sleep in my eyes woke me from my dreams and showed me to a good and really new kind of day.

This is how I began my five week stay around the beaches and on the streets of Los Angeles in 1989

Labors Forward

Within the system of regularis and danse. There where the cold drawn width of a North wind tresses in gaits along the collar of an idle swept floor. The common names on fieldgrass make out a motley collection of jackstraws and the accompanying crossbound shadow of cloud cover in an ecocentric talisman of spinning story. Hot to cold. Top to bottom.

Insisting there must be some redemption in release. The quietude of half spent hours. Momentarily quivals with serendipity. An almost abstruse condition of fealty in the mirthful premonition of a taste for tailors and maids. The rye and sundry, the panate type of house mice. The lour of the native garb. An intrinsic plea for clemency under the ice tides of a skyward borne fantasy.

Fourth estate typecast sunny side project blues song. A viable couching of fears illigitimate. Emigre of heady distaffs and capitulation reasonable or not. The maven of all good seeking primates. She tends to garner her resorts from the flaxen and brogue mare. A light constraint consigned to parlor trap and jazz licks of the new second line. There in the gardens of the gentle lands. A noontime cresting of the diurnal cycle. Reminded by Sudland distances into night and its music. The roping of lightfall in the bracken shade of merry roving lamps.

Another day wakes ride. The dew sotty grass almost frosted with sitting wait on the new song. A furtive notion in the concerted vastness of stride. The leathernecking of canvases and green grasses with rice paper printable smittys’. The hanging of lyers at regards fending off the lumbering trespass of the red tape leer. A lie, a saught after despair. Being taught disheartened to fear knowing. An apprehensive state of parroted monkey witch. The ludicris trappings of the suicidal kudoos. Discordant a sound of making short step pitiance out of one’s brood.

Timeless really in that its victims are not taught when to die. Being instead and through subterfuge given to greed and envy after the fate of the foreshadowed beast. An innocent going down with the tide. A far cry from the consumate chaos of indulgent sinners. All gladly prizing the gluttony of doing away with the earthly estate. Being forced to go without resource or sustinence. Especially in the guise of those upholding her sphere’s very standards.

Our fair sovereign in the proper reckoning of the univer and the salty sea of that great reaching eternity. So many close knit watches of a superlative and highly Swiss disposition. The gab and gander of profligate feet. Not lost to the quarry of head games and being told to drown in so much incredulous cheddar. Again the trappings of a very vocal kind of bewitching. That damned way a horror makes laughter out of a stupid thing and such unwitting need for trust. Fit for nothing but the slavery of the lazy, feral, and ashamed.

A most certain kind of medicine wheel drunkenness. The narcissistic phenomenon to be exact. And my own ridiculous distinction at having found that I am over it. Life! Let it ring why don’t you. Let it always brave the passion of a well rounded commitment to its best revolutionary completion. Having the love and desire to care and care well for both its beginnings, being given a place and optimism for birth, as well as its endings, those things concerning fate and even karma if you will.

To me this speaks of the great work. The friendliness and compassion necessary to make good on being of service to others. Gracious to all. Of either high or low estate and rather relying on a God in heaven to gain that reward that one may objectify in the gleanings of ambition from the dreams and wishes for a better sense of familial and personal prosperity.

Serve the masses and believe that it is a God whom will bring us our just reward. For it is a many and varied thing that resides in the guise of a humane manner of being. Yes it is this thing simply to be known as passion that brings its light to those involved in the rounds of service when considering its upkeep. When honoring its pride. And in the light of its praises all for peoples and spirits, flora and fauna, water and stone.

To realize superceded in the contemporary dalliances of its hetero arts there conceives the wrest of the ages. A turning lemnescate of the eternal rosy snake of a weal and the caparisoning slakes of those idalyc exegesis straits. Coming to terms of origination and forbearing. No swat club for impromptu madness. No septic gloom for trespass to bar the ordinary its entry into our otherwise normal lives.

No this is a state of sovereign Earth and while our God remains in heaven so our loyalty to this sphere’s upkeep will continue to be judged and diagnosed and simply observed for that continuation of immortality they call a revolutionary cycle. And both regularity and knowing a good ride will sometimes feat the lands with heroics and bravadura’s lead toward honesty of love and compassion

But do not be given over to so much as idle want. For this want is no such impartiality in the sympathetic and thus staid manner in effects of a way we let on that what is essentially always in its first rite is a call to rest. To twist this around and make it out to plaint would be like saying “Well you know that old devil. What a shame he does not have more worshippers. Oh hell yeah! Yuck yuck😆.”

It Is By Attempting To Bring About The Singularity,,,

It is by attempting to bring about the singularity that people capture their most sussinct image of ourselves in the throes of our craft and we are thus best branded. That distinction of consciousness. That subtlety of charisma. The very fine and high meter of one’s personal effects and really driving home the whole and real reason for capitulation and surrender in the first place. We know that we will be judged and if it affects how we allow it to touch our feelings it will soon become apparent in how we are treated as well.

For we really do happen to stand outside of the general familiar with communal spirits. And in the accumin of personage, in the bearing of those standards for our craft and our spirits we are well to admit that circles close as well as they do open.

If not to say anything more about it than we eat our crow when we have our own foot in the proverbial mouth. And we soar beyond the elan of the zietgiests in the ragged but right way our temerities and wandering pathos are met with bye and bye. This at the tipping release of efflusion into the pondering of one’s own recondite gatefold midlife crisis. What is further defining of how now it is our path to an admittedly acceptable reign through the acquiescence of ascension.

Having passed on the ecliptic of the Vulcan pineball trotter and going the rounded diamond back to home without striking repasses of a formidably pangyric proof. The levee is no longer on our host, the maven. Who gazing daily upon the lawn as if in a scheme of prophetic acceptance. And as well in countering trouble by waylaying thoughts of a deluge that here anyone knowing participation is also them of a mutual and chi matter at personal attendance toward detail. Even at the affectionate interplay of touchstones alighting upon reminiscence and rare invited intrigue.

The age of the adeptus and all good company thus inclusive in taking up launches and verily secreting away the arc of that career path. Becoming likewise arcane and more robustly stout realism. A gainer of a subjectivity gone hard. Lowing ilk and the commizeration of playing the gaited ball fields has too within its cheer a sympathetic gauge. Now the look of a sometimes bleak, sometimes dreary road in from the country to a local set of streets.

Swift on the mall of a dog walking, a person jogging, and about 3 assorted riffraff doing their best while. All sitting under a single tree singing in their present tone the dirge to the vapid ages. Concerns withstanding of those presently attending haply amongst the consideration of business during the time passing.

Some few necessaries to make the best out of clemency in weathers also become apparent. Giving into one’s bedfellows and thus of an order to secure the initiative of possible outlyers for countering, philosophically speaking. This the train of ardor usually included in making due with the confab consensus. Each character heading up the camp and rapping with one another merry in the guise of passing ’round an afternoon hoot.

Not to get noticed for anything to quite perfectly historionic or verbosely thrown out of the mind in some offhand extemporare. And worthy once again of mostly, gladly, tything discerned their little church pew out underneath the daytime stars. In this the sublimely well cast, and by rote, from most beautifully kept veneration of a synod for its sugar.

Also of a simper and a wan and a smote kind of peeling at a more accustumed preparation for this laughter,,,, In being, the wellness of simple humanity adjusts really to hanging out parkside today enjoying the local brink of skilly scally closetkeepers and their tea. The levity of time wellspent is a passage of euphoric temerity and subconsciously drifts from numeries of selflessness to the very uptake of charge.

It is romantic and it is a founding. It supremely bows before the faith and does not stress beyond its mean. It is a satisfying and solid turn of decency. The passion it demonstrates is made out to welcome. For it is both timely and a beautiful thought. That respect I would trust and that indiscretion if it need remit is a sane and so soluble function of refrain from one’s own shame or fear. In tune with becoming one thought, one decision, one peace of holy and inequivable uninterrupted mind.

Psychepomp Cycle

These are the stories of an aggressive and well defined circle of spiritual intentions. The feating and fleeting sentiments and sensibilities and sensations of an accompanying fugue. Both in figure and plane. The broach of amiacable contentment. That which lays out the pathos and ethos and ethics of cultivated and equitable models in the vastering depths of the sometimes lucid sometimes green field of repeal formed in moral play

What manner of being in the carbon sphere does the wrap turn to in the guise of the chant of the common laud in the prayerful days of a simple natural religion. Do not be anyone who would profane the inclination to bleary eyed take on a quick rise and to a Tee greet the morning with cheer and chuckle too.

These stories you see are like the inner fealt of a conjure bag 💼 full of tied up tricks. I do not truly know if a single 100 mile patch of ground still exists whereby culturation of the frim and fram are not of the righteously drawn consensus of crafts and folk.

Steady persons can of their own volition and in the advent of other synergies at last exit from the roadhouse into the leadened darkness of another country by the fielded hand ✋ and foot 👣 barrows. But lead us down no longer into the ranks with any such culumny of effects that would speak ill of the given discourses and featured parlance that may as well accompany this choice supplication of words, even through the rhetorically enthused burn off of hunting grounds and only just begun with the cavorting after a simple spore.

There in those sanctums and sanctuaries of the terrible wild fleece, where every good savage has their digs about level with Walden’s American Grot or the NW Passage home 🏠 of fish 🐟 oil and eskimos. The long running 🏃 weathers and those landed massies indentured to the willing turn of the chutzpa and the grandiose schtick.

To remember what is my own way rather than what is a given to those suspect whom might be filtched and lied to that there can be no way that their’s could have actually survived for the sake of there being all the many and plenty. Not without the blessing as well on those whom are to be in the proper remembered as upright and also quite propiteous otherlings in the citizenry and charge.

Faith does not turn bad or sour. It can die and it does regularly as many times as a country can count its generations. Knowing that that sideways figure eight repents and suffers and goes to the town graveyard and is always followed by yet another trip to a morning hospital. And it should be known that you conceive that immortality is anything more than the revolutions of a respectful soul.

Known that without these revolutions in the selfsame soul the resulting body of effects would enmasse with its other more squimish consorts and be caught up in a rebuff of full on cancer. Believe it. Those lies were always told to children and the embarrassment and fear of speaking on those things as if they wrote the bane of the parental existence. Well then this country would look much as it does today.

Before complaint resides anymore here than the horrific embarrassment of flesh camping out in the desert to the renig of its heralds, the moronicism of its diets, and the futile watchers of its ornate and emblematic despotism towards proper 16 church cast of strains.

Does not pass go. Must get back to the Earth and make good on the trust of experience those involved can properly call living. If there are any stories that Man 👨 and his Son can tell in the frightened prat fallen lands of a few too many nosey heels, a few too many fallen stars, a few too many wealthy polititians. Well then give that to the reign of the knack. And don’t just write 📝 them down. No these deserve to be told aloud before the astounded and the audacious. Given to the common vernacular and emboldened with the saga of the scald and the tale of the bard.

Graciously and without remorse in the naming of those things causual and in definitely resorting to the manner of entities that would narrow a field considerably. If the worst of experiences is what precludes there being any given need to enliven those experiences honestly. If some few pleasant crescendos of a recognition. A lucigious taste for feeling of sentience can be raised up without need to alter.

If the pattering of feet and the brush of a tale wag so early in the morning you wish the Sun would at least rise. This and allow you to realize that yes 👍 indeed there are heavens during the daylight in the direction of the stars. That without need or will to make it out to descry that there are still them that are drawing maliciously quick and unfortunately many will see that that unkind of dream 💭 will probably sweep away the country before it gets around to the tide.

If the covenant of those things we know to be holy is to remain steadfast in the bounty of our Sovereign Mother Earth. Then there is this storying of the psychefancy in the illimitable planning and gauges of rational endeavour. Sample this. The stories are many. They are not all remembered of mind and there are others who know them as well.

Let the new season proceed and let the balance in the goodness of Earth remember them(the stories) as each they are our own. And that that it is well to both know and fear, overwhelm and forget. Rise and fall 🍂. Inhale and exhale. Blink and look ’round the yon.

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

The Corn & The Vine

Rationing of reasonable foodstuffs has alway been a cooperative effort of the highest endeavor. At least in my opinion. And as that is so thus and even more so what is the reward of having chosen to let the Earth flourish and flourish abundantly.

In order to better affirm the writs of my langours into what betides a fitting parlance and rhetorically speaking to do that up in the conquest of those things I may allay one with another in some hopefully good sense of simple resiprosperus action. The holding of coats aside any who do not aspire to reeve at the commonweal with the matters of feeding a nation.

The many hungry from the seclusion of spirits and seeking the comfort of a daily prayer. In so many ways does this eventually lead you back to the simple need for one’s stover and draughts.

By the merry tide of expectancy. In the gladsome raring of memory with the potential to expand the witness of selfhood unto the realm of all the many possibilities for compunction in the masting of cates. Rite assuaging the guttural truncation of a time to refresh. Acquaintance with this paradisical continence and the accountability of breadwinner does not leave one alone for the reach of faith that is steadfast in the actual belief in what assists us to exist lifelong from birth onward.

Should we by the time of responsibly and satisfactorily safewise and manifesting maturity of aptitude. Larder enough to turn with and discern merit or otherwise bear in the functional indemnity of terce branded cross or incrementally the moniker of tenderness and viability with gumption and cheer.

To see is prayer for guidance in order to mature to the point where one may be responsibly sensible. The extent of the adventure that we take in grasping our becoming is neither to be set aside in the way of good company nor what sanctimony there is in a familiar table or the head and nut of interspersed manners of assembling our needful store.

To greet peril with props for the drama that fate is in our core and what grounds we have for enculturation of those same endemnified characterizations is no real trepidation but a put on. Give up the caveat to the gerrymanderers of later days. Nothing to say 💭 is a pessimistic way of airing that moot is the worst and most egregious feeling of being a lack in a world 🌎 of untried respites.

Recipes for reminiscence amongst the mingling days of a well drawn interlude. At such a juncture in the day and its diet we should guide the foal and the pup to remit and acquire the gnosis of a fitting condition for continuining on with good relations succinct in the convivial art. At while the wanton or bereft may hale other shores. Not to tell the dam to break before the Lord. As well the faith in a happy grave supercedes its soporofic need for contest.

To eat and to eat well. By God Thank you Lord

Between Stops

If the rancorred out of alms surfeiting quidditch bedlam were, all sudden and joyous, to say we do receive you. Your joy, your pain, your serious examples of precience in your charge. This is the calm repose of an expectant and much concerned citizen. The queries unto the publishing of pride at a time like this is persona non grata at best. There are inequivably straight and narrow passes to roll by but for the inner lambaste of the hilarious ‘five spot’ returned in the middle of a trafficking street.

Why do you appear so full of glee? What does Saturnalia and wassailing must have knitting the psalmody of Providence. Is error to do with going a souling up into the Winters for solistice. The other side of the Moon is cracked open by taxidermist duck waddle. There are schools of ‘Bluebird’ busses that make their way pre-dawn down the same passes as the Roman legions in the Mythraic gear. The souls of Osiris and his children make due on the Summer side.

The tropic of Cancer takes her bath in a wheelhouse. There comes as well the Sud of that once archipelagoic North tolerant transmigrary of nascent love, long under the chase of the quaint and contrapted. The Orient makes final assessment by consensus of the high borne heirarchied repasses going up a frustrate pitch at the sight of a yearling hopping at the door. The breezy fireless equine strength is almost undue the remittance to savagry by the Levant and it’s sequence of events.

This makes most certy the bough is not to go nameless. As at last there arrived the old man with penchant airs. This all culumnating upon the mileu like airborne rectitude and mourning of the esplanade. New days dawn right on up and out of that same get back and stamp enth degree. Same as the time on my travelers’ papers I got a long ride back to tinsel town and Hollywood LA. There’s a tree cutter got to miss his date. And the deserted confab hutch has a few cats’ prints to explain for itself.

With these few time honored figs and mints of my imagination may your calends end upright and your domain get you through the steps your taking in your life today. This is returning and this is awakening. May your songs upwell bright. If the child is a million strong give him the 4th estate for his bearing and moor. The thoughtpot and the ringback vicarious be with you. Live and Let it be lol The BuddyHollyWoodyGuthrie Sign fly bye to you and you and you.

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