First Became Last Became First

What are you afraid of?

What gives you hope?

How can you say that?

What form does it take?

If you can, get it all out. If you can't do that, get a bit out. If you can't do that, then squeeze a few drops and slowly watch it grow into the looking puddle, where energy is free and you shake hands with carrier waves that we all ride on.

Like that guy who walked into the Qdoba while I was supervisor, fairly inebriated and with a guitar and a tip bucket, he sang his beautiful song about twice as loud as would have been comfortable. Such a powerful lovesong, so honestly and fearlessly delivered, and in such a strange place and way only added to the shining honesty and humanity of the whole event.

Just for the record I did give him a tip, but then felt obligated to ask him to leave. It's sad that we all can't always follow our heart when we have to follow our intellect or disallow for our responsibilities. I would have liked to have heard more of his songs.

Not sure where this is going. Life is funny and so are people.

In response to funny, I give you bending sculptures of industrially be-font-ed words. Some were the first I wrote, some are the last. It's never too late to reverse a trend or change a card trick - just keep your eyes away from distractions and speak your cause as much as you can. And I'm now officially finished producing 'ado' about my poetry.