As the dark clouds of history
Rumble overhead
As the vile with fake smiles
Follow through with what they said
We share a moment of truth
One not defined by ai
As large as a moment of silence
As small as a hi
There are strange times indeed
Marked with displaced mourning
As families gather around digital fires
And heat themselves with global warming
While the tone is dark and dim
This is not so much a early warning
Just acknowledging a bit of reality
And wishing you a good morning
Home tonight for E. Fitzgerald V. Vangouh
Carry on
Carry on
why'd you go
away,
the summers not
over yet
Stop the midnight
traffic
with your sour notes
stop it all in your
truse
"starry-starry
night"
paint the picture
& paint it right
Capture all that
turns the air grey
To capture all that
is turning the night time
Gay.
If only Autumn Days , were this good , all again
as golden mellow paintings, visual hearts, all explained
as a child walked slate paths, covered in splatters of rain
where he picked purple berries, from muddy , puddled lanes
and his cheeks were as red , as fallen Apples, all new
stuffed in his pockets, his found treasures, a few
he saw the Cottage spiral smoke, for mothers baking bread
smelt wood shavings sweet, from fathers, work shed
for this , is Country Childs World, of 1842
and the 4 year olds wishes, on Dandilion seeds, that he blew
now his mud covered trousers , from ginger cat, who's alone
to the lace covered windows, to the safety
to the safety,
called home
Artificiality Finds Reality
More Than Reality Itself.
Definitely.
Probability Maxed;
No 'Naive' Entanglement
There, Not *Unaware*
I Mean, Knew Ahead...
Quantified...
But I Feel
So MOLECULAR!
-Gray Squirrel
09-19-2026
????°?? Good morning sunshine. ????°??
You stars, goodnight.
We're walking, hand in hand.
Our little lanterns guiding us;
as you lead us from above - up there, you're shining.
We barely twinkle, below.
Waiting for that superstar to rise -- how much longer now?
Second star to the right, that's the way.
And then straight, all the way to the final destination. You can't miss it the island that doesn't exist.
Blue lagoon, pink clouds, somewhere only we know.
Soon.
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As old age upon us descends,
we view the past through rosy lens.
It seems to us that bygone days
were far better in many ways.
The memories of better times
help us cope when life serves up limes.
They give us hope that better days
will soon return, like Dawn’s bright rays.
But dreaming of the good old days
can cause us to live in a daze
and rob us of the good in life
that abounds amidst its strifes.
The good old days had their fair share
of heartache, trouble, strife, and care.
The present times, in many ways,
are better than the good old days.
Treasure the good from bygone days
Let them inform your present ways
So, you can reap the very best,
As you progress in your life quest.
As with all things it began small,
As a whisper, a glint, a glimmer
A distant chickadee giving voice
To a sun that rose ever silently
And a morn that seemed ever,
And ever more promising of wonder
Fleeting westward the veil’d stars
And rolling thunder
Dappling tears
That shed their gladness
The growing light abate the fears
Wrought, the wet groaning night.
And it seemed a slow standing ovation
A clatter of chirps, cars and school children
Beginning their ritual’d day
A smattering of clouds forming and deforming
As the orchestra began to play
And my window became a ringing call
Beckoning me to my door,
To turn the knob that had secured me before
Symbolizing a threshold—of a freedom
That lay beyond—
And more.
Putting all our effort,
Into building ourselves a fort,
Will few problems sort,
If unlocking the gate does not seem worth the effort,
When others won't come out of their fort,
Afraid to trust anyone to guard their port,
When they leave their fort
To drink our port,
And toast another good sort.
Make me feel good
Make me a God
God in me
God is You
You are darkness
You are light
Light up the world
Light shines on rain
Rain creates floods
Rain creates
Creates food
Creates hope
Hope for water
Hope for mercy
Mercy on enemies
Mercy on our soul
Soul on ice
Soul poisoned
Poisoned blood
Poisoned mind
Mind controlled
Mind on freedom
Freedom doesn’t exist
Freedom is a daily struggle
Struggle for equality
Struggle for peace
Peace is colorful
Peace is wonderful
Wonderful gifts
Wonderful world
World of passion
World of crime
Crime of passion
Crime is wrong
Wrong directions
Wrong plan
Plan for safety
Plan for the future
Future blessings
Future prayers
Prayers for culture
Prayers for our children
Children in paradise
Children of the innocent
Innocent planet
Innocent life
Life needs purpose
Life needs support
Support
Purpose
Who are the tyrants within?
The ones from past experiences, yelling opinionated.
Younger Self.
Sitting at a bar,
Yelling jokes and sitting stagnant.
More naive Self.
Stuck in violence,
Accepting anything as love.
Childless Self.
Hopeful but uneducated,
Incapable of understanding eternal love.
Sabotaging Self.
Feeling like the good is closing,
Grasping onto each joyful moment in fear.
Conditional Self.
Requirements to embrace again,
Forgetting how far they've come.
I've met these TYRANTS...
I've sat along side them in empathy,
Who am I, accepting them again?
I hate good-byes.
There is nothing good
in them.
They are too permanent.
Ominous par excellence.
I said good-bye
to a friend once,
never saw him twice.
No, there is nothing good
in a good-bye.
I favour
farewell.
Reverse Psychology...
Bad cop?
Good cop?
a COP out is a copout
Do NOT pout
Be about-
What it is about;
I need a drink.
But heck man, what do you think?
Is drinking too much
When out of touch?
such things, but whatever life brings...
We can still sing praise to our Lord Jesus Christ
I will NOT think twice.
In my life many things have "begotten" me divided
In two sided battles some tattle
Some grow rattles on their tails
Others become snails
I am a snake and I bite
I fight
And I just might have some good skin
Left for the taken
Call me a "wallet"
Friends called me an ATM
Been there done that when
There was NO such thing as sin
Just saying
Friend
The banality of evil
Could’ve been a Devil’s plan
But he never signed the deal
He’s a decent kind of man
He’s aware of dialectics
Without evil there’s no good
Both are slaughtered in eclectic
Caesar salad that he could
Purchase in the local store
For the evening meal with wine
Just the same as day before
Good and evil to confine
But the line is fast to blur
And the meaning quickly sunk
And it clearly occurs
That he’s tiddly, if not drunk.
Collum Lune, a type of Haiku which is word based. 3/5/3
september golden sunrise
foggy creek rise in hollow....
sedum autumn joy
b
l
o
o
m
s
Not all Healers will charge a fee,
Some will appear to touch your pain points,
Fingers Knowing exactly where to press.
Their own heart is a subscription service,
That knot in your back spoke so loudly,
Unperceived Tantric Rhythm, that's a yes.
Eyes Beaming with multiple timelines,
Hairs standing on end, Deserving of respect.
Aware in another life, we once met.
Never telling what they'll do,
Not warning you about the effects of the magic,
It suddenly just beams out of your chest.
Can't stop thinking about it now,
Nor can be brave enough to subscribe,
Memories standing out from the rest.
Sacred caressing to rip the ego to shreds,
Beauty together pre-empting an entire life shift,
The Silent Healer does it best.
The price is life as we know it,
Goosebumps telling a tale and preparing new,
Though you laid with them, now to yourself you must confess.
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