jpapy was a drunkard, for sure, and a boor, and gave the boot to sprouting hopes

pappy sire

in the healing
a light much like an aura
scared sound
sacred mound a mewling

in the mourning
nothing more than one old meister
he's a drunkard
he's my sire
he's my pops and he's a reeling

as i listen
and await what may not hop in
could he ever
could he ever
grow sober
afore he passes
?
is a pasture
not the place
for this hymn

will this hopechest unfestering resume its way within me
or will i find my self loner than every before?

NO, in my soul
my father always dies drunken
laying in his own piled pukelings

and i drumroll into the manger only to be beaten yet again
by his hopelessness trumps the sacred and the new

noticing stuff is hwere it tis at

let's notice like newton all the stuff about us and not find it boring like grownups so lame

let's open our kidmind and notice stuff and be wowed by it tall

these i saw and myself, they each me didst see as well

Things I just noticed by the dozing steppe row
(not on ice were my noticers; not forgoing was my built-in
mindlessnesser)
I 'served

a small caterpillar with a redspot as if it were of creation-myth origin 'sniff' and thence ignominiously 'whatever' a purple,expiring slug(If i coulda, I woulda helped that there sluggardy snail cousin but cosmo, even though i don't 'gree with the "Don't interfere with nature's ways and the circle of death philosophe", it was beyond my ken for helpering
P.S. surely collegians , on a mediocre day, could devise a world cosmongeny wherein dog Does Not eat dog
where all
(as in the watership downs beginning)
are vegan fruitarians/grainarians(after all,corn is gonna wilt and one can pluck it like old nose hairs being trimmed)(possibly pagans or perhaps manytheistic)
and the birds of prey are actually only carcass-munchers(anything what wants to chaw away on my dead-end body(once I'm through usering it,now, mind you) well
they's welcome home to it
burrow and debride all the want.

I saw a bit of rope which was knotted in several places
sort of like a 'witchering' string as in The Shipping News replete with its own awakening scene. I wanted to immediaely call out
Yes, goddess, use This as swell in your artings.

I saw a chunk o' plastique which had been gnawed by the edger(mosquito like in its dense hertzian ouchings, and dangerous in extremis to use. keep one's eye on that cordon string or expect and accept much reddening of hand and bracelet)

i saw two different fruits(one a stranger fig so-called, and one of unknown plucking/felling) which had been stepped on, apparently, and the skiddings showed that newtownian effect still prevailing: all reactions include their own 'possum playin' opposite and apogee

I saw leaves unfurling ,yes, this late in the season
wonder how long they will have to live with such an inopportune birthing this time 'round...

all this was by mine eyes noticed
and each was wished
in her own way
to be placed with immediacy and without any pausings
into the end-all/be-all/do-all of the valency artisanery
which has now plummet plunged into\
a fearlessly feral awe and shamelessly hussy-like shamansessa to create that which can help bring to the brink of awakening as well so many who are so in need of the aha, not the unrelenting ha ha ha...

none too high(not on dirges but on WE WON kinda stuff

"Good Evening, We are conducting a poll for BGOS network can you please answerve a few quewstions?"
Alright, please proceed
"Thank you Very much Sir-"
Ma'am, that is Ma'am, Ma'am
"Very sorry,sir, now I mean Ma'am(embarrased pause: i was pregnant about that long last time...)
Are you finding yourself gloating at the good fortune of your candidate?"
Well, I used to--you may find this difficult to reckon--be quite a sportsfan and half the, no, most of the joy in winning is knowing the unalterable fact that
they lost.if you see what I'm saying here...
"I do Sir, and thank you--Ma'am Ma'am---thank you Ma'am for your time. Good Evening to you and your family..."
I'll call them right now and alert them to your concern for their well being.
EOC(end of converse

despite their statemetns i trust me

even when thihnking about the w
i have returned to my belief that i am doing goo
EVEN IF the boars and snoars try to gaslight me and tell me otter words

the dear friend is hurting and i cannot help her from afar

my greatest dark times hits
(generic nonspecific)

well mainly when i feel less than

when i don't know

when the car musses up

when people are mean for zero reason I can figure

when my soul aches

when a beloved friend is hurting and i cannot reach to help her

friend's hubby mussing with her mind musings

so i encouraged her to go to or read about again or on line chatter with the family groups they are sooooo healing

standing, 'tending to watch my pocketwatch, in fact viewing the orchards with their orchids, all a tremble, when behold: the soccer matchers strode by

a dear former friend strolled by with mate and shouted my name and i smiled and was so happy for 'em both
and all the while Brian Eno's The True Wheel was bleating mindfully repetitiously, the sublime mechanist himself, from the headphones which area always like a collar surrounding my longish hairline

so this gal says to me...makes good bacardis

she says These make good margaritas(sunflowers, en espanol, you know?)
i almost always say WOW(i was buying frozen starberries and there was no alcohol about)
i'm an alkie in recovery but she was just trying to be nicety so i just said Really? I didn't realize that

fresh fruit
said the bagger after her papyrus or le plastique fantastic query
Pardon, says myself?

help you to your car?
no...thanks

O, fresh fruit: its FF that makes the greatest margaritas

and ironically iconically used to live in this deserted desert mount deseret wherewithin wildest of sunflowers grew over the tallness of t he tallest ballplayer
promplty whent next door and got myself a smoothie with zero shots

always bored or always fearful pick 'em

she's never bored
i'm always bored
with my own frettering
but when i listen to her coresong
my boredeishness and fetteringness
turns to healersong ya now now now

always bored or always fearful pick 'em

she's never bored
i'm always bored
with my own frettering
but when i listen to her coresong
my boredeishness and fetteringness
turns to healersong ya now now now

her own litthe babysoul soaring within needed so much 'lowances of love

she flagged her own babysoul
and selflessly soothed all surrounding
sussurations of coo caw all about