THESE WORDS!
A madman shouted out.
That mad man had a blinding bout.
He did not know that words had clout.
You don’t need dat axe, boy.
Hey, ain’t your dad name Roy, boy?
Ain’t no name play here.
You step back you hear?
You come swing dat gear.
Somebody get a strike, boy.
Words have meaning.
Backpack feelings.
You gotta watch your tongue, boy!
Pretend you have a tummy ache.
You ain’t doing school.
Pretend you learned to ache alone.
Now, who is the fool?
They say they teach but, teachers listen.
Engage that dull roar and ignore dissing.
Pissing ain’t a contest, it’s wisdom glistening.
These pills hissing.
No pills missing.
My hiss fitting.
YOU PILLS LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU FUCKS!
YOU ARE NOT DUCKS!
IN A ROW!
I did not find you
The kinda you
Wanted to hide.
Not Hitler, not Stalin… your more
The befallen man. Unlessmeter, wexmight, I’m deadvtobtk
The music, it took them.
Away from the races.
The places
That held them
Contemptibly necessary.
Pieces of a puzzle.
Necessarily muzzled
For their own damn good.
They don’t think you should
Live with free will now.
You will now
Obey.
What’s that, that you say?
You think it’s okay?
If only today,
They do your thinking for you.
Because you
Thought one day
One day of thinking?
They can have it, okay…
Ya, the trumpets blared like
Someone cared but
Few folks cared at all.
None would heed the call.
Law and order
While the border
Fell for one and all.
Another day at the mall.
Raped and pillaged
Every village
That dare fall in their way.
A few come every day.
They don’t come to play.
They’re a new breed
Folks who don’t bleed
For the old red, white and blue.
They do not care for you.
They will do what they do.
No matter what your boo hoo.
It’s back of the line.
Where you’ll be fine.
Doing what conquered do.
You say you would die for me.
I ain’t gonna die.
You say you would hang wit me.
Buddy, I don’t hang.
Cutting this new row
You don’t know
Gard’nin or just an ol dirt mover?
This Hoover.
Sucks everything with no unsuckers
Welcome, you stay away.
I want you over they.
I know it’s bad Ungley but
You started speaking in fackwadery.
You don’t have to say you quit.
Don’t show up, be done wit it.
No one really gives a shit
They faking.
They taking.
My word like I meant it.
Frequently
Absently
I ask thee
Do thou now say thou now know how?
To overcome that here and now?
Was impossible!
No damn way!
Shit ain’t happen!
Not today!
But it does, and now you can not play
It off.
Cause there is no off.
The magic was here
Long before you.
And magic knows well what you can do.
But you don’t know and never will.
If you believe you have no skill.
And cannot use your force of will
To remember what you can do.
You were born into this stew.
Micro, macro, all the way down.
And up and there and all around.
Simply forget how you are bound
By limitations you have found
So comforting, you’re just like them.
Hanging on average til the bitter end.
Normal, pally, is not your friend.
It’s a cover over all that magic.
Remembering dismembering.
Broken bones every year now.
Can’t climb out, it’s a slow crawl.
Kneel, tho’ it hurts,
Because it hurts, so.
You want to cut yourself, ya?
You had enough of the bad, ya?
Forget about all a that glad, ya?
You gonna cut yourself.
You shoulda shut you self.
Here, in this dark room.
All spirits here bloom.
Like there was no doom.
Everyone goes to heaven.
AS IF.
The dogs knew he was nervous.
The animals felt his fear.
And he was alone in his feelings.
Didn’t know they were here.
In between in-between and
So unseen.
No one notices their making.
Like, Santa Clause loves your baking.
Set it out for his taking.
Now, is it the earth that’s shaking?
Or is it his fear filled quaking?
Is he generating
What he keeps on making?
Or is this another yank on his chain?
Radios, telephones, and rays of sunlight.
Not too bright.
Just so right.
All clear, right?
Not tonight…
Ray guns and play funs.
It’s being done
To everyone.
It’s a zero sum
To you, transmitter.
To you, go getter.
Spraying dat Loosh,
Like, big splash… sploosh!
Like, gimme dat boost!
Pappa gonna get his man on!
Buddy didn’t get dat joke.
Buddy ain’t doing woke.
He’s a self made man.
Anything he can
He does, an he does it well.
Buddy just gives life hell.
Ya, a self made man.
Doin what he can.
Open them gates of Hell.
Buddy, he knows damn well.
Gates are open,
Buddy’s hopin,
That Lucifer no can tell.
He’s the hungry sort
And a good retort
Might ring ‘ol Lucifer’s bell.
If he don’t, says Buddy, well…
He can make me sick
Where the Loosh runs thick
He can lick me clean
Savor my mean
And let my mean find it’s own damn place now.
The breeze was soft as a pirate’s whisper,
But it drew it’s breath from today.
There was never any doubt that the ship was lost,
As their futures floated away.
They bibbed and bobbed and although
Hobnobbed, they pined for this moment.
This drifting ‘pon the seas.
Them free of dis-ease, fore
The further they look’d
The more they was hooked.
That tomorrow was another day.
Yes, I kicked that lady’s dog chained to the clothesline.
That bitch tried hard to bite me
Not the lady, but her feed your dog yard lots pooper.
Don’t say you’re going on holidays
Then pull your blinds and stay home.
And who leaves their dog out
When they go vacay?
Critical thought escaped me
Just trying to make a buck.
And neither little Snoopy or the paper boy
Could give a royal fuck.
YOU BETTER START BOY!
YOU ARE USING LUCK!
YOU BETTER START BOY!
Before you run amok!
Mauly said there were deer in the yard or a sound in the air she had not heard. Or a cat on the deck or a bird on the truck, they hailed to everything they met.
Chase a little truck or snowmobile rider, ruff at crows and who cares you can’t fly?
Matters not why. Inside voice is a voice many don’t have and they don’t wants reply.
Topsy Turvey is a town near you and maybe a town you live in. People there are not just square, they’re male and not male, protected and unprotected and working from home.
They’re Russian or Ukrainian, black or not black and inflation? What’s inflation?
In Topsy, they mask to protect others and they keep a safe distance and their chefs hump their food to their door.
Lies? Ya, you can tell them some, but not too many lies in one day. In Topsy, couple daze for the old lies to fade. Then keep on your lying because lying’s the way… the way the cookie crumbles in Topsy Turvay.
Open up your mind, see what you find and it better not be negative.
Take stock of your killer instinct and that fight or flight instinct beside it. Notice how victimhood is right beside your intent to flee and marching in the streets is a last ditch effort right beside that.
It’s all there, in your foolbox. Every state, every emotion, and every outlook resides just a thought away and guess who does the choosing?
Welp, it should be you but that’s only true if you can realize your genetics, calculate your culture, and wade through society’s corrals of bovine scat adeptly placed to influence your path.
It should be you directing your emotions, but you aren’t the only one interested in your output.
The Loosh Lappers want you bad. As bad and mad as you can get. They want you hopping mad because hopping while mad is a sweet, love you long time Loosh popsicle that lasts for daze.
Don’t feed the tallyman because he’s not headed your way. There’s no fun and games on the high seize and those Looshers can live under water, you cannot, and they will pull you under.
Choose descriptors and emotions that enhance your power and starve the bearers of ill will.
Yes, open up your mind, use what you find to reveal a better you, then snap it closed so none shall pass, and Looshers can kiss your smarter ass!
You hate somebody. Or you hate some thing.
Like a rock radio station only beams rock music, hate must be created by a hateful projector. Is that you?
Better to do a 180 and unleash the maximum love you can – for yourself. Someone acting hateful must create hate to propel it. Hate creation is expensive. Takes a lot of energy to whip into existence, blast out, and monitor for effect.
Then bathe in that Loosh, wallow in Sting River and float until the burn diminishes because hate wears off quickly.
Love grows slowly and fades slowly. You will have to learn to hate, to overcome love. Love is born of the hope for increase. Hate is born of a desire for extinction. To extinguish your pain, you must create and end the suffering of others.
Love is in the air. It’s in every sunrise and every sunset, the lapping waves and that gentle breeze.
Bliss is a place worth visiting and from that hallowed place, Hell is visible. Hell – where time is ten times faster and slower. Hell – where it’s chocolate cake for every meal. Hell – where everything is available for the taking, including you.
Hate creation is expensive and loosh lovers have bad breath.
Love lasts for centuries and life lovers smell both the coffee AND roses. Project your love into the Loosh, stay away from Hell and hate and direct much love to yourself.
The point of your first ten years is to celebrate your life. To feel good, you’re alive!
The point of your teen age years is to overcome the strife. Of knowing you’re alive. And learning how to suffer without crying or denying that the pain that you now feel is about to so reveal your ability to suck up pain not pass it on.
The point of twenties is to rough you up, scratch you with kindness, see how a blindness can break your toes, swallow your woes cause that’s how life goes before thirty.
The point of your thirties is to ensure your flirting with evil gets recognized and have you been baptized by the fire that you started or will the baggage you carted slow you all down some and hey, are the children all watching?
The point of your forties is to find your my lordies, your gurus and glue too’s to follow. Try every character and as you do just beware that none of them are you but forge as forties do, forge toward the glimmer, that spark that spawned between err, that place between all places and you now.
The point of your fifties is reflection, rejection of all that you were. Before you got to here. But here now you see how that time is not numbers or hands on a clock. It’s the pace of our gate and the path that we walk. It’s the times we don’t tock and that tick went unspoken and something awoke and it’s like time doesn’t matter and matter doesn’t time. It’s a time of beckoning, reckoning with right now. Like, holy cow… couldn’t something be different?!
(to be continued)
Never mind the last ten years.
Don’t even bother looking back, I’ll do that for you, and you won’t have to pick any weeds, just have a tomato or maybe a pear…you like pears?
Sure you do! Everybody likes pears!
Anyway, I’m done talking about picking fruit. Now, let’s make some nice fruit salad. M’kay?
Ya, Buddy got stiff.
Stiff Person Syndrome.
His eyes cast a shadow of still.
Watched folks sway against their will.
Buddy used their avatar up.
Nothing said but that’s enough.
Finding that diamond in the rough.
Cause finding shit is tough.
Ya gotta pay attention
Not to even mention
You’ve got to see a diamond in the rough.
Buddy was a real deep thinker.
Deep like a deep well digger.
He thought before he’s thirsty
And thinking, he thought the worst he’d
Then encounter
Were thoughts he found there
Way out the plan.
Flipped off and ran
Their own game
Like they were playing
By their own rules
Ya, the bloody fools
Acted like they didn’t know the plan…
Maully was a bitch of a bitch.
Barged in as a kid.
Made chosen seem as if
It WAS her.
It became her.
And chosen then she soon became.
Like chosen was the name of the game.
The chosen one..
Chosen soon become.
The one where chosen run
The game that everyone calls life.
The game where everyone does strife.
The game where worries last all life.
The wise ones close one eye and see
There’s a bigger thy.
One that ye pray to.
One formed of solid glue.
The glue that we all knew
Connects humanity.
One eye for all to see
The other’s closed.
And those opposed
Are ginger haters.
And big debaters.
They’ll argue anything.
Logic is not their thing.
Confirmation bias?
They know the truth, just try us!
They know, my wonderful Bolt.
They know, my sweet, sweet Maully,
My two almost human dawgs,
You’re just one life away,
You know that any day,
We’re doing bugs next.
Buddy always knew people hate his shit.
Maybe little wobbly, canna deal with it.
Maybe take a blue pill
Pay a bitta mortgage.
See a ton of good used shit.
Think about the cartage.
Too much good used shit out there.
Bring ’em all under one life there.
Who gonna bitch or now be square?
This shit’s going to Richie Brothers.
Buddy had no clue he had no clue
He had no clue.
Didn’t know what to do or what to do.
He could not do.
Ya, he saw the edge that
He thought he really knew.
No breaking through.
What could he do?
He had no clue.
This wasnt new.
He wanted through.
But through, how… who?
His shadow stepped in for him.
Stepped across his real person.
Buddy watched a bitta fearsome
Nothing new came.
Relieved, he let it happen.
And later, as he’s crapping
He opened up his mind
To see what he can find.
And he found this.
Buddy ain’t pay much note to noise.
Seems like everyone else is poised
Take a liitle trip from those who know.
Shit going sideways, just below
Limen of feeling
There you go.
Now gonna be that someone.
Find those jerks who alla done.
Say you’re stupid.
Say that Cupid
Is particular
And here you are.
Just you and these arrows.
Get your tickets ready please!
Oh uh, hello there. How you doing?
Listen, my name is Barry and I'm the Conductor on this train so if you need anything, you just ask me, okay?
The bathrooms are right over there and please, pick up after yourself on account of I clean the place, too.
And uh, seeing as you're not from around here I'll just tell you straight out - although every story you might hear on this train is true, some stories are "truer" than others, if you can read between the rails...
Anyway, thanks for stopping by and, y'all come back now, y'hear?
Have a grand day, friend.
Barry Williams
Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada
barryhappywilliams@gmail.com
https://www.mega888cuci.com