there was a lonely poet
who bled his sonets to the imaginary Muse
he had never met
and gave it read to the  outcast
he met hanging on the streets and some bars..
once he met there a goddess-like looking femme
wholy destitute, he imediatly felt in love
love to the marvelous *******
it was love from first glance

yes, she was a harlot
who is usually  short on time
he somehow managed
to afford her time
in motel
with blind windows
he came
and said her he want just
drink with her wine
on what, she wanted to throw him away
but he trembled by every nerv
and she said ok,
I will meet you after work
we will drink tea
she denied the hand reaching her money
and in two hours they met again

the man shined radiant
like he catched blue bird
she was tired she asked him
what do you want?
He tell, I want paint you in words
Not for you give me a kiss
Nor for you answer on my instant love
I love you just because I dont know you yet...
she laughed...
well, ok..
you wish to know me
out to touch me?
say, why are you so afraid?
He tald,   Oh, no, I afraid nothing,
since i have nothing to loose..
but in this life I feel the immerse grief..
my mother will never love me
in the way I need
said he, and tear shed on his cheek..
the mistress looked full of intimidation on him..
she seems never sow the man tears..
and he cried suddenly so bitter that she
fehlt eerie,
this big child touched the long forgotten string of her
heart and she also began to cry..
so they cried together  quite long time
poet took her hand
and they tenderly interwined the fingers..
she said, I didnt cried for eternity,
I thought all my feelings are dead.
My mother never loved me too
but because of this i never cried or fehlt any regret...
you are so vulnerable, my stranger..
you awaking me feel something beside
my only fact, that  I am luxurious toy for the spity men
let me show you my very ****..
you will perhaps recognise that I cant be your girl...
I didnt deserve this tender tears
I am Alaska, I am numb, cold, yet I am ok with that.

No, please, dont speak bad of yourself,
I will write for you funny poems
about wolfs, sheeps, dogs and cats..
your heart will slowly melt and mend,
you will again feel and may be one day
you will let you be my lovely concubine...
I joke, he added..

but howeverwhy.. god works on mysterious ways..

since that day poet find his true muse
and she, with her wanton delight, find a waiter for her sleeping heart
this is of cause just a fairytale, but somewhere near or far away
somewhere may be it happened in real life.

and isn't strange

that i'm sitting in my car

in a parking garage

thinking of you and missing

your stupid plumb apple face

or maybe it's carved from soap

or shaved glass

fragmented by pieces

collected in bindles

followed by bundles

of the joy i used to have

of the sleep i used to get

of the energy i used to take

and isn't it strange how

i have no desire to have you

all to myself for you are

an automous being that

breathes and thinks and acts

wholy different than me

but i can't help but miss you

and your kiwi colored eyes

with the seeds cut out

dipped in a ring of gold

and like smegal i yearn to

hold that precious ring of gold

in my shriveled hands

even though i know

it'll corrupt me

but i'm drawn to mordor

all the same



that's what it's like

missing you



wanting to go there

even when I shouldn't



and isn't it strange

that my world is shifting

complicit and complicated

a deficit of the senses

a pull from the void

a shake of the head

with such filigree i am sated

but blinded by such yearning

to touch your hot skin

feel it rest

against mine



again but



maybe i'm too addicted to sparks

you took me to your house last
night and held my mother’s hurt in
your arms made me whole again.
again i feel a sun of
an opportunity i haven’t felt since
the last time you

took me ice skating when i was five.
the snow has always felt like
entrapment to me
a boots on the ground
brawl to get above water.
as we slide on the
ice it threatens to crack beneath me and
break me by the leg that has fallen into the
thunder-rolling
ocean beneath.

but you tell a story of the time
you counted the slivers of white on the ice here,
the trembling pulse of a child’s whisper in the air
whistling through the trees.
and you dance with me without being careful
i’ve never felt so free

one day after your work decided to industrialize the father in you to death
and you decided i had died to you
and the feeling of the sun on my heart deferred
to a space on my forehead that my veins pulse out of
that next day i felt emptiness for the first time.
the ice underneath me broke me into an
avalanche of rumbling teardrops that shattered glass
and ice and
lasted for four long days.
the adult birthed in me breathed
and grew outside of my child body
and the little kid in me just watched until
her silence strangled her to
death?

today i know she’s living
child whisper whistling through my lungs and
learning how to dance in the day time
nurse the grown up to sleep
and take my space for her own
take my space for my own

for the first time today i played outside
found a frozen pond instead of that ice rink
and laid to face the sky,
fearless in the face of the wholy sun
but knowing that i am just as whole
-jmm

News Flash:
                     Religious Science has created life!
                     With heat and pressure
                     and Sounds Sounds Sounds!

                     Watch their lead-boy
                     dance and sing
                     recordings placed in his
                                    chest
                   ­  by People Who Know.

                    Listen close
                    to his strictures about what
                    is abominable
                    you can hear their voices
                    in the crackling gray
                    noise:
                    
            ­        The buzzing of cieling fans
                     in offices far away, Oz
                     The humming chatter of
                     "The maid found a dove
                     drowned in the pool!"
                     "Oh, how unsanitary,
                      truely abominable."

                      You really should see
                       him dance
                       in the Starstudded Ballroom
                       where the wicked pace
                       in the side-halls
                       dreaming of childhood summers
                       at the lake
                       and kisses in the morning.

                       Holy Science has smithed life!
                       Holy bullets smelted a fine
                       man.
                       Wholy Holey Holy Bullets.

She's my manifest destiny
Queen of my whole being
She brings out the best in me
Sees me for wholy me
****, this **** is freeing to be seen for wholy me, only me
******* I've been living lowly
Living without the curves of her mouth
The spouts of sweet songs her voice moans strongly
The acceptance without judgement of decisions I've made wrongly
The commitment to forgive what we have grown from
The acceptance of the fact that we attracted life lessons that shed blessings on the future we both will be bold from
There's certain **** I can't replace like
The simple caress of my face as I lay cross her supple breast
Hearing her heart beat in her chest in tandem with mine
Heaven sent is her presence
It's life changing
Time frames hold limits within loves parameters
Don't matter to her or I for all we got is time
Time is what made us realize realness
Oh four loves jones turn out to be my whole life, whole wife, future baby mom type...
Crazy how it all turns out, how every obstacle paves the way for greatness
Blessed is the life I pray we get to make
She's destiny, I'll leave the future to fate.

There on the tar
Lies paint with a purpose
We wander too far
Over the lines of hierarchy
Destined to face the consequences
Set by the ones whose eyes
Have experienced this all before.

Troubled souls state simply
That lines are meant to be crossed
They say this with impulse in limbs
With zero regard for the tarnished ending.
Souls of this demeanor
Will never wholy construct the finish
Solely being because of velocity.

You’ve state the line is blurred
The paint is worn or faded
Yet I still stand here listening.
This road has been shattered by youth
The less weathered assume the sun
Would’ve dried the paint by now.
Little do they know
The paint has always been wet.

What she finds in him
When whole night he keeps exploring her body
Every night, and other night
As if,or might be some new plant has sprouted from her seed,
As if eating fruits from its branches, mandatory!
But,
What everyother night her seeking eyes see nothing,
For the tenderness she needs ,
Only!!
For a woman is made up of light bkue sky
And pale coloured sand
Wind v fragile
And spark too shallow
And this tenderness encapsulates her wholy!
With trembling hands
Everyother dark night
While her stature he loves
Her hands goes to his heart
To find tender part
But it still is a story of everyother night!

who are you
to peer beyond each thing newly
truly to
beyond peer things newing? (i mere things knewly

when yoully
were but twoly

truly.)

Beyond peer things

, wholy?

I shall carry your body
Across misty mountian ways
Wrapped with
linen and holly

And lament the crooked paths
Of the leather footed thieves
With restless
dirks and brandy

The earth shelters your secret
Under water weathered stone
And i'm left
ever wanting

While grieving and broken breaths
Sing through outlawed ancient pipes
They focus
grief so grandly

One more lonely kiss goodbye
Upon painted wordless lips
A last wish
whispers wholy

But shouting and sullen eyes
Scream my naked barren name
While grinding
Dreams to nothing

get in line. What's your excuse?

Ignorance and lack of spiritual insight (ghaflah)

true understanding and illumination (ma’rifa)

just plain ignorance (jahiliyya)
==================
Today, we  answer, for before;
today, we answer, for after.

The ideas of limits.
Enclosing mind, holding time

Professing to know what cannot be ignored,
every speaker, each in turn, accounts
today idle time, free in turn to use
redeeming idle words, meaningful
for cursing, and promising hell
you pay mere attention,
to detail, unbelievable
for all willing not
to lie after knowing God cannot lie.
Truth known frees those who use it.

Is there any possible faith that ignors this lie?

1948 Anno Mundi - Abram  Kaballah
World year 2000 Abraham teaching oral Torah,

Let this mind be in you, this new mind, after
all that has called war God's soul correcting plan.

Cultural agricults, first the blade, then the ear…

"For without culture or holiness,
which are always the gift
of a very few,
a man may renounce wealth
or any other external thing,
but he cannot renounce
hatred, envy, jealousy, revenge.
Culture is the sanctity
of the intellect. "
[William Butler Yeats, journal, 7 March, 1909]

And poetic arrogance arises asking if,
one could envision war, as war occurs,
as anyone may, make a reason up for it,
since we all have seen now at a distance,
we all are aware of the destruction, none,
of us are aware of the holiness used,
the catechistical exercise in faith,

think only of the offense to Allah,
by calling all the invincibly ignorant poets

fools who bet mercy won.
------------

The poor man suffered, as a lad
to come unto Jesus, as a he was,
allowing what is true, his state reported,
as with any child suffered so, Is one angel's job.

As true as anything taken to heart for testing,
a child born into a long line of poor folk,
never in seven generations too poor
to offer travelers succor in need,
in deed, training up the lad,
to know, for certain, it is
better to give than take.

Time, the whole, none can hold,
aging, becoming wholy finished
by faith emitting substance of hope…
epiousion - plenty enough to share,
enough for the approaching need,
in deed, as Wisdom comes to lighten
one side's reason, with a touch of joy,

all children are made commonly good,
all children are formed in familiar wedom,
inside knowing's chosen fold, all blessed

with truths that balance years gone by
experienced against today,

perhaps the final chance to measure worth,
what good did you do, once, if once is enough,
what harm did you do, if once is not enough?
---------------

If we can measure a parsa walk,
while sitting still before a lit window,
looking in on all that's on the world minds,

many, many made up minds, truly granted
privileged exclusive inclusion in those good,

by grace of faith shaping conserved why tales,

reproved by wars… one side must be known
good for nothing but labor, twisted into duty,

as one must relate the military minds powers
and authority to deceive in righteous order,

rank and file, about
face, forward, at the double, march.
----------------

Run to the rock,
run through the ligation
split wide the healing wound
reach out,
feel the piercing point make
a way where no way was, made

plain as one when there was none,
now is our time to tell the mindless
to re think re stitching,

let flow the sacrificial blood of youth,
burn the idolatrous haters of religious
authority trading in holy terrors, free,

in exchange for single minded order,
accepted places, accepted tasks, duty
to truth only revealed to true believers/

good, beautiful, make it stick.
**** any thinker of otherwise.
------------------

Tension, taut, twanged to pitch,
strum a conceptual whole note,

humm along, one string, once
struck
pinging step by step, past then to now.

What cost each step, past when to ever?

Was an hour made from a day,
a day made from a string of second thought?

Was an instant made the cause of death?

Walking life's last competed parsa, a scenario.

-----------------

Knock, it opens,
ask it answers, think once

knocking heard, a door, appears,
closed on my side, I hear the knock,

and, lo', thinking no danger nigh me,
I open wide, welcoming any near

enough, to have knocked.

-----------------
In spirit form, a mind imagines
everything ever named in times past,

duty, classes of deed, when done, indeed
can never even once become undone, alone,

there are knots and there are stings…
and after all that was before, here is now,

when each ready reader asks what good
is done when knowledgelessness
causes the liars confidence to perish.

Contend for contentment, proud warrior
mind, let this mind be in you, eh,
be not afraid, thinking your self,

spirit in formed.
-------------------

Rule, point to point, draw
the line, we plan to follow,

or cross, this time, we have, Ai
be it measured in ancient times,

in minutes of arc as measured
from noon, until now, our while
in mindform thinking we an entity
in a message, pointing at an end
as in a point made for being
a thought, if nothing more.

We won a right to appeal,
perhaps we rethink times best used
produce second chances.

Incorporeal,
in bodiless form, in spirit
in truth;

from out, looking in,
from now, seeing then
from whence all laws arise;

thinker thoughts,
tinker toy's and dams,
tin solder solutions

"Solutio!" or did he say
"Salute!" loose salubriety?

Endlösung, wholy reforming

all the whys in Userous tyranny,
all the reason in Balance of power,
all the mastery in War against peace…
knotting
strings
of coincidence crossing the wake
of where we were truer sets
of posed causal effects,
twist and shout,
your own salvation,
in the end,
work it on out,
when you live ever after,
what you gonna do?

If it's up to you, of course.

No, it doesn’t work
But Yes, I still protest

Sure, they think I’m cracked
At least that’s my best guess

I wish to raise my voice
Before laid to my rest

We’re better than Donald Trump
But we’ll be worse unless

We open up our hearts
better angels, Yes

the future for the brave
the brave the whole to bless.

spin the other way, get another day seeming self aware,
on earth as it may seem any other time I am as so aware,

I think, Cartesian, slam dunk,
on point, quickill ready
I am set
to respond I am
to the least little hint
of hedonism advertised,
to religiously rethink the da'ath towb ra, deception,

perceived, as near as any claim
to know, deception
redemption, be not deceived,
implies holding wholy owned reception, once, aha,

I know, no way, this was ever wrong,
I know, so way too easy
to think, the old man doesn't

I know, Imogene was thinking
as she waited
behind the door
with that framer's hammer
in her hand, and I know
she nailed that old boy, and
got herself lobotomized,

so ****** or

peace
from a pipe, blown
into the wind,
my friend,

we leveled the floor and the **** puddled
in the middle, so we learned a hard truth,

adversarially opposing the circle
of logic,
using logos
to prove logic. .. spins

off the ends
of the galactic bars…

in mobius dual loop back to earlier,
when you forgot you did this twice.
Spin logic...

When I was young I didn't understand,
I was mislead and not taught right from wrong.
So I stole, I lied, I fought and I misused my hands,
Damaging myself and how my future might stand.

I grew up among many gay friends,
Who had flipped ways and flipped days.
But I wasn't aware of what this was,
And to them it was cool as the bees buzz.

I always had a bad feeling about their ways and how they act,
But I thank God he always had my back.
Because when I learnt what and how this abomination would end,
I didn't want to be friends no longer with them.

It's a disgusting and a disgrace to mankind and to all that is right,
And yet still mankind let these abomination get the chance to speak, get up and fight.
So now gay marriages, couples and their influences surrounds the earth,
Causing damnation onto babies before their very birth.

And the funny thing about it, is that they know they are wrong and will fall,
And they know that they are an abomination onto God and to all.
But they still smile, dieing, knowing their guilt,
With corruption in they hearts and their minds full of filt.

Judgment to the foolish who stand with them to support them and make them feel hype,
Making them feel like what their doing is right,
God will continue to test men in some of the worst ways and in the worst days,
But in these days men will fail and turn away.

So they blame God and say they become gay because they were abused,
But they sound so ******* stupid and so utterly confused.
At the end of it all every person has a choice to make,
And being gay isn't how you were born or become because of anything, or of any affect in life,
Its because of the choice you made and the path you take.

So I'll forever dislike their ways and the choices they make,
Because God is good and his love is powerful and great.
And remember He hates the sin and not the sinner,
But if the sinner doesn't let go of the sin then the sinner becomes the sin.

Are you discouraged by the way you were born or how your body appear,
Don't be foolish, there's a person meant for everyone out there.
Yes some may say your ugly, fat, skinny or what ever they say,
Just remember that everyone is unique in their own way.
Nice defines the person on the outside,
But beautiful is the purpose within,
So there's no sin by the color of your eyes, hair or skin,
But by how you choose to defile yourself and the effort you put in.

No drop of sin shall enter the kingdom of the Holy,
But shall burn in the fire not yet felt,
A lot of gay people have change their lives wholy,
But some want to feel the heat of Hell fire and melt.
An abomination is an abomination,
Because big sin small sin is still sin.
So if you think you can ask for forgiveness on your last breath, well try,
And see if it's Heaven's gate you'll enter in.