with the wind at my shoulder

standin on the rooftops

with a shine in my eye

standin on the rooftops

the wind gets colder

but hey, ain't life just divine?

a bond between one and another, sinking in my back and curling through the stomach, pouring out the front, pouring into champaign glasses, on and on and on, at a party with different kinds of hats.  wishful thinkers, doing what they do best, making conversation that is pleasant, without a worry in the world, a stitch in the fabric of time

this group of people, have their white cloth and their pretty talk, think themselves the center of the universe, and why shouldn't they be?  the words have meaning, and the theories discuss take on a myriad of expressions and history

and at the same time, in the same instance, there is poverty, what of that thing?  clay pots and water that is cherished every day, brought in the daily bucket, brought in with heartbeat, heartbeat, heartbeat, drum drum, drum drum

A system systematically serenading itself with rhythms changing clockwork calculated nonsense

indifferent to itself, fluctuating frequently, standing still

quiet on top of an owls den, hooting its own demise at the wrong time

pass it on?  keep it alive?

drum, drum drum, time, time time

what of that thing?  a writers worse curse, I guess

but then again, what of curse?  what does it mean to be tortured by ones art?

non non non the apple falls and it falls

oh oh oh the sprinkling ties tickle the membrane of fruit flies


I'm just messing around, isn't it great!  to have nothing to say at all??

its like being encapsulated in a warm vessel, while the thorns on the outside continue to prickle the desert ground as it is blown in the wind

unaffected by bursts, emotion, thinking is so over rated

to wish for the boredom of an office job, ironically, but secretly know that somewhere inside you are something

but don't feel the need to show it to anyone at all!  the bluejay nurtures its young that never need to leave the nest!  

and one thought leads to another, cushioned by an inner strength

self esteem, perhaps

what of boring???  that thing which I've sneered at for so long, looks so welcoming, an external cloak, a hiding place for a muskrat whose had enough days of contemplation, fixation, beyond his wildest imaginations, skipping across the fence with a front of business as usual, a tie and a vest

frustrations that are trivial, anxieties that are irrational, a normal, normal
normal man

Superb!  It's alright to take a few things for granted, but then I notice the little things, like the way the yard is centered, like the way my hair grows into the right place, like a girl I love reciprocates, and a few more things I don't need to mention.  But

The body floats over itself, occasionally, and

blah blah blah, today is okay, right?  

Yes, the right people say the right things at the right timing, and your love ones move in tandem with the rhythm of your needs, the rhythm of self

what I'm trying to say is, things are looking okay, and okay is a shield moving in front of a mind that is a lake of misfits, all trying to get on board a ship of understanding, and hey!  they all got their hands on!  even the most absurd found a way to hook their clutches to the side

and perhaps this feeling is fleeting, like so many other things, but then again, we have a magic ability to remember what needs to be rememberd, and the people that love us remember, too

to be comfortable with ambiguity, is probably the greatest blessing of all...

to not need to write is probably an even greater blessing, when the porch and the sunshine contain all the answers in the universe, space and time stand still, the news is on a paper that is small or on a television that is turned off

stability, my friends, is all I ask for, in this life,

and I am content with that

forward thinking, trying to make the best of situations

willing hands, willing fingers, half smiles

eyes ahead, romantic, language in the brows, in the looks, no passivity

whole hearted annihilating punctuated meaning

or none at all, none at all

where's it all headed?

but intense, to the scorpio, to a capital S

where is it all going?  where am I ending?

burning eyes, burning brows, expressions add up

looks, mirrors, goes, in

battle with myself, sin

needed help, got it, needed numb

got it

folding over the balcony of expression, the generation of honesty can discover malleability

and the music turns religious

again

and the dancing becomes formal

again

how will that happen?

time, it tells

of wind

chill my sternum

make new friends come, and they make conversation pleasant, please let me be


vibrant

hesitant, chills, chilly, distant voices, calling

wild, wild, ways, of their habits, their songs, vibrato

core gutteral gashes at the spasm, reaching for a bit of relaxation, reaching for a bit of calm, perhaps of acceptance

people

nothing but with an added extra something, life is the whipping cream

flakey

but delicious


blown over a thousand times, over again, again

wanting, yearning, looking for answers, built up an array of

prejudice

devoid of feeling, over time, and craving new things

and days go by