Ye olde Yo-***, advises get thee to a nunnery of trees, leaves of sunlight scorched sunrises and sunsets to clear the cobwebs and recall more fully the good stuff,  like in Oregun,

allow it to resonant via ****** shots of temporal, but seasonal natural harmony, a more regulat visitor of the upcoming comes of good weather and the life by the water, on a tiny islansd, long lazy days, and a lessening of the
mental haze-ing

punctuating life with long walks and teardrops of tears, poetry suggestives, will be dropping from icy white cumulus every day clouds, moving to uncover the elaborate and running trills of colutara words lurking within, no more the blaring horns of trafficked sounds of First Ave., trucks fighting to de-liver-er the urgencies of consumption (a most excellent disease) and the potpourri symphony of marching bands blaring of ambulances, fire trucks, and the EXTRAordinary impatience of horn blaring taxis up and down York Ave., dropping off patients 24-7 at a laundry list of  "specialized" Hospitals with "views of the river in every room"

I miss the quietude noises of summer breezes tickling minds, trees frothing a
cappucino sun heated breeze to stir the blush and rush of words forming faster than the mind can absorb;

alas, alas, this same mind can never fully squeeze out the sins of memories of winter's travails and yet, the mere suggestion of my old friends embracing me, sun, wind, green landscapes, sea and land animals coming to greet the human interlopers makes me all stirred up, like watching white milk in black coffee spread its cooling affection and lightening the black; aerate and mixing the perptual continuum of my ever slowly chilling bloodstream streaming to mind
                               and I sigh, for many reasons...but in my heart, I am, and remain, forever a summer man...
aerate and mix and I sigh, for many reasons...

Absent brain surgery, the mind wanders following the sun's trajectory, wither?

“If you set out to be liked, you would be prepared to compromise on anything at any time, and you would achieve nothing.”

Margaret Thatcher

<>

right your writ,
to the high est
standard of
your satisfaction

when they tell you,
get topical, or even worse
AIM TO PLEASE,
be hip, never gray,
or to grab the edge
with just one hand
to prove if you need
that forced bravery is
a falsehood of youth

tell them flat out to
take that red marker,
to shove it up their
scholarly *******

you’ll know pretty quickly
those who’ll line up beside ya,
not behind ya, and jump in
front, they don’t desire your
liking, and nor it, do they deserve

it cuts both ways, both ends are
not the means, ‘cept means to a
unsatisfactory ending, dishonorable

ah, yes to thine owned* self be true...

a twisty verbiage, but stop!
it is not cutesy or frivolous,
but an awed respect,
for that fact;
the complexity of the monumental
is the sum of:
the bricks, the letters,
the words, the lines, the stanza and
of course, the spaces in between
that makes simple so ****
complex

a slip and fall, busted up face,
an ambulance ride, cute young
docs, a his and her, in a busy ER
always apologizing for causing
any pain, and now again, in
another waiting room for the
specialist surgeon to,

make reperfect what was imperfect
naturally, seasoned and aged,
a face lovely and decanted,
a nice blush, though she looks now
a fresh mugging victim

and here I am, thinking about
all the waiting rooms in a long
life that I’ve called home, a temporal
temple abode, for waiting, praying
and now surmising and now, even for
composing

let’s not talk of bland, pastel colors
way past the over limit of blandness,
acoustic tile ceilings water stained,
and “leatherette”  furniture,
that no else ever wanted in their
life, all sent off to die in the classical,
traditional rooms for waiting

births, deaths, diagnoses, verdicts
delivered, way stops on a traveling
life

a statement, a viewpoint directive, a casual formailty,
it says much about you, but is most telling, that, you,
took the time to debate how you wished to be percieved,
by the masses of humanity, as
  tucked of untucked?


for by it, you communicate your chosen philosopy of life