ICECREAM

I heard a wise sheriff say today, I want to make this a PARADE, not a PROTEST!

There is yet one good person around and thus we are all given the benefit of the doubt.

I feel the same way as he does…YES!

Let’s celebrate our lives!

Not follow lies.

Trump doesn’t represent us. 

We love each other, we want the best for each other, we love nature and we feel a deep desire to be One and also to be known and respected as persons. 

We all just want our best lives here now minus the anger and fear.

This morning, watching the riots, I saw children marching instead and they were all laughing. I walked up to one and asked why are you marching and he said, ICECREAM!

The riots are complete lies. Personal rights are misunderstandings. 

Everything is a sign of this.

Then Seneca wrote me a letter, https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Moral_letters_to_Lucilius/Letter_16

Every moment, pointing here…

“You must persevere, must develop new strength by continuous study, until that which is only a good inclination becomes a good settled purpose. 2. Hence you no longer need to come to me with much talk and protestations; I know that you have made great progress. I understand the feelings which prompt your words; they are not feigned or specious words.”

“How can philosophy help me, if Fate exists? Of what avail is philosophy, if God rules the universe? Of what avail is it, if Chance governs everything? For not only is it impossible to change things that are determined, but it is also impossible to plan beforehand against what is undetermined; either God has forestalled my plans, and decided what I am to do, or else Fortune gives no free play to my plans.”

It doesn’t matter if God, Fate or Chance is rolling all this out. 

“Whether the truth, Lucilius, lies in one or in all of these views, we must be philosophers; whether Fate binds us down by an inexorable law, or whether God as arbiter of the universe has arranged everything, or whether Chance drives and tosses human affairs without method, philosophy ought to be our defence.”

“There is no reason why you should put confidence in yourself too quickly and readily. Examine yourself; scrutinize and observe yourself in divers ways; but mark, before all else, whether it is in philosophy or merely in life itself[1] that you have made progress. 3. Philosophy is no trick to catch the public; it is not devised for show. It is a matter, not of words, but of facts. It is not pursued in order that the day may yield some amusement before it is spent, or that our leisure may be relieved of a tedium that irks us. It moulds and constructs the soul; it orders our life, guides our conduct, shows us what we should do and what we should leave undone; it sits at the helm and directs our course as we waver amid uncertainties. Without it, no one can live fearlessly or in peace of mind. Countless things that happen every hour call for advice; and such advice is to be sought in philosophy.“

We let philosophy hold the wheel. 

“She will encourage us to submit to God with cheerfulness and to Fortune with defiance; she will show you how to follow God and bear what chance may send you.”

Seneca advises to not let the spiritual enthusiasm cool off or fall away. 

He says now that you have it, keep a hold on it and put it on firm footing, so that what is at present an enthusiasm may become a settled spiritual disposition. 

So it goes, even smelly goats learn self integrity is the most valuable substance in creation come hell or high water. 

What are you gonna do when alone with the alone?

How will you act?

How will you know what to do when it is only you?

Others have been generous with me and I pass that on joyfully. Kindness has taken hold of me. This is the best way to be. To freely give and receive. But there is a balance between loving fool and deadly bastard, we must draw from both aspects.

Natural desires are limited, but falsity has no point of termination.The false has no limits. The road must have an end or one wanders in falseness forever. 

What wisdom humanity has realized, and haven’t we asked the questions we do today yesterday so much more clearly it seems to me. Seneca is a human being and his account of life is true wisdom, practical knowledge, the greatest stuff really. I love Seneca as another Father. When I read him, he sets me straight and is a clear mirror.

It is like the Tarot how I find this letter. This letter was written to me across time. That creates a wormhole. Space collapses between us. The universe sees me struggling and in it comes to set me straight. 

Who guides my steps indeed.

“But it is not my purpose now to be led into a discussion as to what is within our own control, – if foreknowledge is supreme, or if a chain of fated events drags us along in its clutches, or if the sudden and the unexpected play the tyrant over us; I return now to my warning and my exhortation, that you should not allow the impulse of your spirit to weaken and grow cold. Hold fast to it and establish it firmly, in order that what is now impulse may become a habit of the mind.“

“Recall your steps, therefore, from idle things, and when you would know whether that which you seek is based upon a natural or upon a misleading desire, consider whether it can stop at any definite point. If you find, after having travelled far, that there is a more distant goal always in view, you may be sure that this condition is contrary to nature.“

My deepest voice says to me…you must never believe anyone else can help you. 

Damn, so it’s like that.

And so it is, but I suspect still, this all is for our best. 

I have found my Fathers, now I must know my Mothers.

Straight on.

the poet drinks by moonlight

with the grey ghosts

with red eyes

until he pukes

he spits and cusses

at the birds

he pisses anywhere

he feels to leak

he kicks down doors 

seeking the face of his god

denying his existence

with venomous word

and dead thought

he shoots for the stars

anywhere he can find a vein

he wastes away

in a green haze

you seen god

he’s the flasher

on the corner

the priest who is waiting

the killer stalking prey

the deer shot in the heart

what fool would 

chase his own ass

the donkey wants 

the carrot 

not until he stops

does it swing his way

then a bus hits him

one day the poetic bum

fell down hard

laying there in the grass

a child sang a song

a flower bloomed

dogs barked

and for once 

the poet truly saw

through bloodshot eyes

and a bitchin headache

how much he hated life

how much he hated that song

when would it all stop

this is the best it gets

the way is no way

when you try to leave

you always arrive again

the poet drinks by moonlight 

and always ends up where 

he last felt his heart beat

in between

flower petal falls

water feels the earth

rain falls on ocean

Kinetoscope

I like to flow and grapple

And turn things inside out

The great secret can finally be told

Only the bold will know

There isn’t any truth one can hold

It’s best to just keep things above board

Life and death require no explanation

Only our participation

They often cause airy consternation

No need to see behind the curtain

Knowing the way doesn’t

Ensure one will win their game

Not one serious moment

So we play the game

No longer seeking higher ground

Here is just fine

Twiddling my thumbs

Projecting space and time

Turning on a dime

I am not alone

When you finally awake

You don’t remember a damn thing

Until the next time you play

The game between all games

strange brew

The other day I took a walk and I stopped for a bit and found myself staring off into space thinking about a fish or something. Something caught my eye in a thick bunch of vines with orange pink flowers.

I saw a leaf move strangely I thought, must be a stick bug. I thought I saw a small arm. I didn’t move, my breathing slowed down as if someone poured honey in my mouth.

I began to feel quite thirsty. I saw the leaf move weirdly again, but this time I saw a small hand holding a golden thimble slowly reaching out of a thick thicket of flowers. All my hairs stood at attention and the air felt electric blue and had a golden odor. My god I gasped, it was a a faery girl almost as if she leaped off a page.

As I was quite thirsty, and feeling like I could trust this little faery, I thought, why not. Now I see I was bedazzled, which isn’t quite fair now is it. I had no inhibitions at all in that golden blue light. I took the thimble and said thank you, and then sniffed the golden thimble. It had the strangest earthy smell that hung in your senses. The thimble was warm and seemed to actually be glowing.

So I drank the little thimble down and almost immediately my body was electrified and I felt waves of electricity crackling over my skin, little golden sparks were popping all around me. I immediately fell backwards stiff as a statue.

I felt frozen. No thoughts. Eyes staring into nothing. Then I saw a little face peer up from around my ear and I heard, I’m sorry I had to do that to you. But you never know what kind of human you may meet. That seemed practical to me. She said I would soon be able to move, but she wanted to have a little chat first. This seemed reasonable to me at the time.

At this point, looking back, it all seems like a dream. I remember waking up alone. Very groggy. With a taste in my mouth like I had eaten moss. I’m not sure what we spoke about. I just can’t remember. I do remember her face very clearly. I also felt totally refreshed and had energy pulsing to get up and get back to the car. I’m sure it was all a dream now.

Be careful who you take a drink from. Especially if they offer you a golden glowing thimble.

Moonlight Shining

The Coyote howls to the moon

Moonlight shining down

Paradise we have found

Dancing Coyote

Waiting for the Blue Bus

Where are you taking us driver

Taking the Coyote to Dance with a Star

💫

Galileo Galilei

I worked it out, then I ate the pages I wrote it on and I seem to have forgotten it all.

It seems I always held my self by the hand. I saw it as a child. The child I forgot. I thought it spun around me, but like Galileo Galilei, I found my self spinning around the central sun.

But then the walls melted and I could no longer hide inside my garden. I was carried out into the deep wood filled with 👀s by 🧚‍♀️s I was driven to the top of a cold mountain 🏔 where I met an old man who just muttered about 🦋s and 💐s and then I met a 👧 and we found some 🐕s and 🐠s and live happy on the edge of being filled with 🌺s.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/1561_celestial_phenomenon_over_Nuremberg

Straight Spinner

Spinning round
The central pole
Where we stop
No one knows
Should we slow 
Or should we
Go Go Go

Straight On

”Look down at me and you see a fool

Look up at me and you see a god

Look straight at me and you see yourself”