Real Conservation, A Week Later

all you have to do is stand up and speak
if you fake it you can grasp for foul language
you can slake out your propaganda stale mix
or buy an ounce of my altruistic stylist tricks

you thought a success wouldn't be messy
but then you found your brain being sold
to the sun-eater, the moon-beater, so sad
you sold out before the bid war had been had

so soft my danger wafts into your strange ears
you pump Listerine in place of Tetra-hydro-chlorine
so empty places grow unseen
then one memory gleans a piece of cancer genes

at last at least at most we've seen a chump
who comes hard against himself and the world
is it simple to turn a child's temple to something
so simple it scrapes the bottom of the credit dump?

To: Barack Obama; RE: the Civilian Corps

The teens crave attention sir, a program we'll give them,
their parents won't be let down, so we'll have to include them,
our armies are mighty though their cause rarely bright,
we'll call all our neighbors to help us,
though we think that they think that they're right.

We'll call it the Civilian Corps, and what a core it will be,
marching through trouble, solutions on the double,
since hand and hand sees us intrinsically free.

The Corps isn't for volunteering, or for the stand-and-cheering,
the Corps is the business of fixing our business,
by keeping the promise of a community's togetherness.

So that; things begin where they ought to, not just where they can;
things stay afloat when trouble's at hand;
folks can obey because it's their choice;
voters can hear the sound of their voice;
homeless can sleep safe, so their families can too;
professors can teach a way that is bright;
so preachers can preach what is to all of us right;
so parties of interest in politics form,
to demonstrate new where old ways are worn;
so that everyone knows there's some place to go;
and everything works towards what's best for newborns.

I'd call and request immediate press, but I'm just as scared as all of us left.
I know you've a calling to make history right. Please take my idea and relieve us this plight.

Intentional, Miss Spell

Insipid is the lust for sameness; we'll rout that demon yet.

This and other revelations are coming to the theatre near you.

Our fabric is collective, not singular. Our behavior as a group does more to us than our behavior as an individual. As an individual I may make any choice in my realm of probability - or, in other words, how many sides does my dice contain? How many ways can my eyes delight or complain?

I make my eyes out of my physical inheritance, but what my eyes may see is inscripted by you and everyone you know, not me. Any capacity of humanity - love/hate, war/peace, liberty/slavery, actuary/philosophy, accounting/imagining, running/programming, giving/taking, using/making, creating/breaking, filling/starving, hoping/carving, struggling/waking - they're all just what you gave me, plus my part in the philosophy. You give me substance, but I give me purpose; nevertheless we're all distracted by what's written on Jerzies. Because, if I choose what's cross to your purpose, then you'll inflict what you will to what's yours of my substance. We try to sign contracts to counter this nature, but only ever will instincts be templates of purpose.

Even the sun is given ripe room to breath as its course may merry along its own borders. The moon is blessed with the spiral it has even though its work crosses many many paths. Humans meanwhile are animals of possibility, where our courses create their own brand of nobility and life is sensibility crossed with simplicity.

Grand Standing

I've got eight-million great ideas a second, it would blow out your gaskets,
I wish no harm no call to arms here's rooms with views just for you,
Ian Dunbar just said dogs humans and horses, are the three saddest animals,
since all three will apologize after they've been punished with their victim's eyes,
I'm sorry I needed all that crappy abuse, cause I'm crap ever after no use,
bbbut red flags bang! attention gang anyone who said the above's gonna lose.
Negativity isn't necessary but a tiniest fraction of time and everyone else is just yelling -
you're wrong when you throw hate out, though it's your right, you're wrong to anyone it's done to.
Investing attention to detail, bringing details to action; the modes of better tele-communication.

Be All Cling to Fall

Because we couldn't survive without protecting our child.
Because we had to share the watering well.
Because we taught the young to survive.

Since sometimes survival is unfolding new ideas.
Part of the sacrifice is the difficulties we render.
The less of Violence in our Capital Cities
where villains face verdicts written in sheep skin.

Remember remember the fifth of December
and the time together we've got.
I know that November is hard to remember
but January won't be for naught.

I once faced a map in the hitherto world
choice was bas-relieved into clay
when chemical earth and fire and ocean
collided to combust into new will of mitosis

What resulted was patterned and caught life
like a solar plexis where messengers fleet
when clay or paper united a tyrant a culture

Aspire to all that dares greatness, forgiving it
followers be also where fortune may find you
but for All's sake, keep that knot at the end
your rope steadfast be all cling.

I like Hugo; Buddha; Fear the Reaper; Healthy Fear

You MUST get THAT monkey OFF your BACK!

since the World Evolved like Monkeys - no matter How much You were taught Grossness was Only Monkeys and not Just Your metaphorical Fish man/god that I've no Beef With. Thank you very much.

So we're here on Shakespeare's stage with the swidden of monument crumbling our stumblings onward with effort through lights charged. Makes sense since traveling satellites rely on charges carving solar creation erections, not dirty, just buildings we're providing the energy for building by feeding the builders with leftover barley that taxes the quelled ones paid for by standing in glory of the attempt by the glorifiers to get larger in history by impressing their neighbors.

Bhagavad Gita's influence; Qur'an; Torah; Bible; bibbly and bubbly all warrant of troubling humbly; all the way to mumbly and diffused from vaunted vaults of scripture and sacred support to average Joe mumble's bumbling retorts.

Don't we quibble a lot where my Grandparent's granges brought goodwill to share lots. By our own labor we trucked, when bare was laid to pavement. The ultimate equalizer is giving your time to them, maybe taxes maybe not, maybe the script and the barley have lost. Maybe as wheat became millet and rice, and fish came to chemicals to fetch up the price; maybe these things are important as numbers, maybe some vital junctions in vest in bed in houses are best left to choices unaroused by attention, while others with infamous clicking insiders could be best brought back to the light right beside us through calm and attentive re-evaluative focus. I'm speaking of course of our famous discourse, where our chorus is sometimes oddly or seemingly unanimous, since if boiled down to our essentials in politicos, there really only ends up being two of us or four of us. We're blue and we're informants through vestments and wallets or watches, where we tremor with rocking if robbed or corrupted. Most accidents occur where only a few miles has seen us, where someone can catch us, depending on their focus. Naturally these communities greenly grow with whatever tools they're told will unfold the tragic victory to history through those stories we gorged them into. It took pockets of innuendo where heroes unbounded interacted with their matches in ego, just as our head comics unfold our alter egos and foibles fought as our promises reflected. Such a rocket expected nothing. Nothing less. Where more was what was planted not bought, or where a fence was mended since such work is sought. Out. Perform. Be willing to dance that part with charm and vigilance dark or dreary until happy rewards just what we'll not know till the kaleidoscope stops.

Part of our inheritance is wrought from antiquity bought - self-sacrifice lasting recasting our Caspian technologies in every bog and swamp of mucky life mired in messy fertility of progress from tribe stash to swamp rat. Didact that if answered flat with greed's acts redeem that chance you took when willows brooked through reedy solutions potions from every civilization we took or borrowed - these ideas. We wager every day that books and t.v.'s and family and friends' prescriptions or scriptures will vaunt our pictures and deliver our prominence to each other.

How fond we are of druthers, misdeeds, a sorrow brother, the coining sprinter outspending perhaps outliving the gestures and deeds mis-given and philanthropied proper or out-landing. and or. and or.

How many dimensions go down, or does the smaller we look mean the smaller we see and the larger the starving the more stars that we breathe. Sequentially through epiphany after epiphany knew, but couldn't see further than time and wisdoms' cue. Or, we'll trouble a robot to need oil, but how nicely, when we don't eat the brown rice our bodies are after? So questioned hereafter our Plutonic disasters, where cash crossed the rafters without nets or with daggers, and subsets hereafter will know those decanters and add chalk to their grip not fumes of burnt lanterns.

I'm parched of the moment. I'll dimension a round up of upcoming disasters, and grow naturally towards the path that we're after. You know when it gets there what fate has re-mastered for soundtracks that hum in omnipotent equations, so frames in brain lenses can pitch to the Sable coast, so that the feverish host of fear or fun time can repair the loss from our apparent misjudged events.

Ergo: oops. Egalitarian uniter. like sports, or the sounds, or a super-collider. Reform can accomplished when rays of reason give form to our prime and our season, when time tosses lease to our spawn once emerging.

May the harken of history give pity to our dreams. Merry may recast our hope everlasting, while we trudge through the toil of this annual swidden. Bark loud at the moon and trod on forbidden, but keep some promises safe so our children will get them.