“I told ’em you will grow to be something tenacious and exalted, you are mighty, you are gracious, you are lauded”

Greasy Grimy Gopher Guts; Poolside; 0 for 1 and don’t forget spoons twice
Lukewarm folgers; mold on his moonpie
Rooms in his home that dissipate into fruit flies
Suicide lane wide load ride looting in the wake of an amicable marooning
My duty go from moving in packs to sharing food with a cat. [To Moms:] “it’s me, I accidentally sawed a woman in half.”
She said “I’ll keep you in my prayers, ” I said “I need to hide a body, ” she said “ok honey, talk to you on Friday.”
Apparently we share a common plasma so the growing disconnection doesn’t matter. according to the blood-and-water chapter. weird
Who wrote the blood-and-water chapter anyway? probably some surly dad; only child, 30 cats.
Looking for a way to reconnect with an averted past.
Except it doesn’t always work like that
Today I pulled three baby snakes out of moss and dirt; where the wild strawberry vines toss and turn;
I told them “you will grow to be something inventive and electric; you are healthy, you are special, you are present.” then I let them go


You were sitting at the gate awaiting spirits and provisions
I was privy to a headache over pirouetting innards
In the mirror sweating pictures; who’s there: simian or lizard?
As it were there is a disappearing difference
In ambition and material;
Antiquated gentleman outlaws reduced to a ferris wheel of vitriol
Move as a godless heathen; black gums, tooth gone, bootleg ‘Yukon Cornelius’
I’m a… that’s better, here we here we go. disenchanted face printed on a zero-dollar bill
Got a little plot of land where authority isn’t recognized, contraband keeping the core of his Hyde Jekyll-ized
Check! nevermind a misanthrope vying for affection to the wretched sound of mysticism dying
It is something he must handle on his own; the wind blown way, wanna win? don’t play
Today I pulled three green frogs out of leaf and bark where the grape vines climb a convenient barn;
I told them “you will grow to be something tenacious and exalted; you are mighty, you are gracious, you are lauded.” then I let them go


I have been completely unable to maintain any semblance of relationship on any level
I have been a bastard to the people who have actively attempted to deliver me from peril
I have been acutely undeserving of the ear that listen up and lip that kissed me on the temple
I have been accustomed to a stubborn disposition that admits it wish it’s history disassembled
I have been a hypocrite in sermonizing tolerance while skimming for a ministry to pretzel
I have been unfairly resentful of those I wish that acted different when the bidding was essential
I have been a terrible communicator prone to isolation over sympathy for devils
I have been my own worst enemy since the very genesis of rebels
Today I pulled three ghost crabs out of rock and sand, where the low tide showcased a promised land.
I told them “you will grow to be something dynamic and impressive; you are patient you are gallant you are festive.”
Then I let them go


(On and on and on and on…)


3 responses to ““I told ’em you will grow to be something tenacious and exalted, you are mighty, you are gracious, you are lauded””

  1. Charming, astute, jester-like undermining boundary or nicely aspiring simplicity of experience once discovered. Oh…highly engaging and rewarding. Thanks! Oh…got more, got more, got more???

  2. The reference to “lizard-monkey” brain struck a chord, which friends and I nod to when discussing a good many behaviors we (average blokes) appear locked into, personality-wise. We affectionately call them the Lizard King and Monkey Lord…our alter egos (unacknowledged selves) or instinctual compulsions, sensate or cognitive, that seem to actually ‘frame’ (inform?) basic, fundamental and rudimentary experience (though less the higher-order functions, the “better angels of our nature” as it were).

    It’s always interesting to juxtapose these several traits in a non analytic manner or style, such as a freer association of ideas, sentiments, observations, confessions, speculations, ruminations and aspirations, in hand with the Present in all its sliding fluency of potential orientations that allow a clearly spontaneous and creative engagement of Agency, as distinct from the obvious determinations, necessitation or unconscious chaos of a liminal awareness.

    Oh…it’s always something, and ever something…more.

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