to make a point of pontifical polity

there comes a time
not much is ably accomplished
a wilt, if you will
t’which you can’t not
already been-
suffering under same
some basking with momentary ease
forego possibility
render outcome adjunct
bottom line is only happenstance
crawled between more than normalcy
the surrounding stench,
one indication that evolution
Is Of-
every bland look-back
met with the same dulled-out milky way

broke before knots loosened

crept from behind a tree
next to a stream, she said “There aren’t many secrets faces don’t tell.”
she didn’t know enough-she still knew
capsules chewed up, no need to wait for absorption
glimpses like rainstorm drops in a river
feeding can cure only momental troubles
monumentally foolish escapades driving everyday
take another look,
the same cannot be seen again
let alone, had
fingertip slipperiness
footprint misgiving
the once oneness
wasn’t what was wont
a becomed distraught
she says looking at some stormclouds “There is much, too much spoken that can be left for silence to sort out.”

most felines have liberal tendencies

and that’s something you can’t argue against
observe how they preen, how they clean
amongst the babble-they go on
you may shout
they may look
they will go back to the
there are a few lessons
we as humans should take ungrudgingly,
those garnered from the close cats next to us
those that should be reanimated in our own actions-
only sometimes, flash deathclaws
bite with love, not hate
roll back in the moments of joyous content
offer tail to be pulled when right
but never if they are not-
like some beatles,
those few that would never be chased to eat, spoke
live and let live-
unless it seems as a plaything
some things done never can be righted,
t’which’s where the line must drawn
twitching whisker-thin as it is
as grasp to life,
purrpose to pursuit
garnered regard reneged

kept to creeping certainty

suffocating flashes, dismantling light projection
suffering onboard, no “North Bloomington, Jolene” call
so, this is life
secreted differences amalgamate to naught
shrapnel doesn’t distinguish, no matter human try
succumbed rationalization is congratulated if abandoned
smiles only go so far
serenades fall on deaf ears
segue to
sympathetic meaninglessness

subtle glimpses, settled lapses

as that behind ear scratch
results in wet fingertips,
resolve becomes cliche-
from resolute to renowned
in a glimpse, taken away
not a clouded night sky,
but city-light diminished milky way grandiosity
being so far from,
kept captured by forms so close
it’s a loss shared, a little to naught realized-
we strive, pulling toes out of foundations
bloodshot eyes, bullet-scraped dermis
so few places to dodge uncompromising life
suck down another sixteen ounces,
even if you are not seeking answers
there’s but detriment in that unseen bottom,
it’s a fluke reception,
degraded signature, still looks as it did decade’s ago

stripped hamstrings, soddened backs, sultry minds

eyebrow filtered malaise, germ-infused common sense
slipped to dreams with no use, except release,
escape from the pursuing degrade-
rather be self-created dismay
than torn from wrenched existing truth
casted nets with similar shape-
can never seal the deal, (s)he is there, (s)he is of understood shared
could be the lack of life trying,
hovelling to a home
that welcomed warped, dismal staid state-
nothing has to change if no other can offer homily-
lost, with a oneway ticket-
tact, never has meant being on the correct track
adversary of such vice with over-riding result
it’s a decisive derision,
living life swell
leasing life as well
longing for life pollination,
ground to cornmeal consistency-
officials say
“These figures don’t equal.”
citizens respond
“Justice does not have numeration!”
yet, here we are
with the tepid speech
“Mine, is Ours.”
for history shot, those same will reiterate
’til their current position is unaffixed,
impossible to undo wrong
circular digestion

sittin’, spittin’, overgrown once-useful words

they clamor, essence of subtracted-theirs are subtle reasons,
structures crumbling before ribbon is cut
caught between life and existing
gawking-eyed voices procure little ability for regard
foregoing safety whilst risking others-
neigh impossible to reconcile
sweltered salvation
stretched sacrament
somewhere surrendered without deference-
torrential supplication
stuck, malformed
age inappropriate malfeasance, if only, for a few more decades-
aloft upon palm frond, cheek caressed burnt fingertips
stovepipe conspiracies spewing darkened soot
Candy cries for erased memories
to silence the hollowness t’which rages in us’all-
dwindling existence
matter is subjective
cursed regard
false memory, pruning tragic past
can never get back pleasant
grinded the present for such, t’where it’s but a fictitious fact
fret each second
forget first intent
it’s a dismal existence with little to parlay