The system reports temporal governance has improved
stability is now assumed
territory has been optimized
boundaries no longer require revision
decisions move through approved channels
desire is no longer a variable
people comply within expected ranges
habits were adjusted quietly
uncertainty reduced until it disappeared
time was reorganized
not divided, only arranged
even weather responds within acceptable deviation
wind behaves correctly
silence is logged as normal output
no interruptions recorded
a system check runs
nothing unusual detected
another check follows
still nothing
the system repeats the check
because repetition confirms stability
no further variables remain
only checking continues
status remains stable
there is nothing left to correct
and still the system continues monitoring
because monitoring has no end condition
the emperor is not recorded as collapsed
collapse is not a valid category!
After a few years, I visited an old friend at his
Office. He was not there, but I was informed
That he would arrive shortly. I waited, and
Waited, and waited until I could wait no longer.
I left my friend a message with words that
He would understand from one who' had
Ground older and learned new lessons
Of life. Message: "In years of not so long
Ago, I waited more on men and less on God.
I have now learned to wait less on men and
More on God".
The paths I have troded;
The places I have tasted;
The people with whom I have been treated;
The purpose of which I have been presented;
The plans that I have been assigned to execute.
My Lord and my life have been good to me;
Giving me cause for much gratitude.
I have walked in shoes crafted just for me,
Carrying me above and beyond, to points
And places both familiar and otherwise.
I was never afforded a life without pain,
But granted one more than filled with change.
So I adjusted and when required, changed lanes.
Through pathways both broad and narrow;
Traversing twisted and rugged roadways;
Leaving me sometimes feeling lost and lonely; But always belonging and evermore fulfilling.
What glows for all this glitter
Once adjusted to
A dull stone's, whose show off allure
Will turn back into.
And here you are, not one hour
Guest of duke, duchess.
Envy for, draining from the face.
Smile; but blinded less!
At a Vanderbilt mansion,*
Two bathrooms surprised,
With features too modern
For me to’ve surmised.
In the owner’s own shower,
One handle controlled
A foot-facing faucet;
If too hot or cold,
You adjusted the temp
‘Til you felt the right heat
Before water would hit you,
Just touching your feet.
Only then, when correct,
Did you turn on the taps.
Maybe otherwise, those
Really rich would collapse.
In his wife’s room, a scale
In the floor tiles was sending
Her weight at eye level,
Preventing her bending.
These accoutrements really
Allowed me to see
That the rich are quite different
From you and from me.
*William K. Vanderbilt’s mansion,
built between 1910 and 1936.
Sometimes I follow faded stars
Lost lonely souls with jaded hearts
But brilliant minds indigo smarts
Full of wisdom despite their scars
The beautiful ones have stories
Some of victory of green glory
But personally I prefer the gory
Truth of failure to be less boring
Life makes you like a dog collar
Is strangling neck so tight you holler
Despite experience status as scholar
No matter your position in beauty parlor
For beauty is a burning boisterous blade
that cuts two ways leaves you spayed
For others see you and miscalculate
The pain you have inside is dead weight
Yet there is a deadly denim denial
In creases of your courageous smile
They always tell you to be proud
To turn a bloody frown upside down
A faded star with a hole in red heart
Has adjusted to the irony and dark
Paths sarcastic laughs of lone sharks
Feeding on energy from the flower park
Not all pretty faces will win the rat race
Someone left behind must lead the way
For the rebuilding of the hearts that break
For the sacrificial lambs that find faith
While praying peace upon this day
some pause to wonder, “Does it pay
to seek God’s counsel? Skies go gray.
Such focus - short, infernal
forgets a faith, eternal.
When TV lauds man's rage and smut,
it blocks the truth and leaves it shut.
We question – why and how and what
of thoughts so mal-adjusted
they leave us well-combusted.
Recalling joy and quests unknown,
I realize it’s God alone
who rules this realm from heaven’s throne.
Deficiency defraying,
I settle in to praying.
It’s not the length of time I spend
nor any sweat which I extend;
it’s fellowship which wants no end.
Communion needs no journey
when doubts have found death’s gurney.
When times are weary, careworn, bleak
Christ’s swift forgiveness stirs the meek.
I take my Bible, let God speak.
Sweet cadence, trust’s own rhythm
outflows in concord with Him.
"For from Him, through Him, to Him - life."
I failed the relationship?by being myself too accurately.
There was nothing dramatic about it.?No betrayal.?No fight worth remembering.?Just the slow discovery?that I was a compromise.
You didn’t leave suddenly.?You adjusted.?That was worse.
I watched you subtract effort?the way someone stops watering?a plant they’ve already replaced.
Same sex, same bed,?and still I felt like?the wrong answer?arriving confidently.
I needed more than you could give?because I had less than I pretended.
I asked questions?that only insecure people ask.?I noticed things?secure people ignore.
That was the problem.
I made my doubt your responsibility.?I turned love into maintenance.?I required proof.
Eventually you realized?being with me?felt like work?that never ended.
You didn’t say I wasn’t enough.?You didn’t have to.
The silence was efficient.
I understand now:?relationships don’t fail loudly?when the flaw is fundamental.
They just stop trying.
And if I’m honest—?this wasn’t about timing,?or compatibility,?or even love.
It was about me arriving?already behind,?and asking you?to slow down?so I could pretend?we were equal.
Rudolph, the leader of Santa's reindeer,
adjusted his nose and gave the all clear
to steer Santa well with his braced flashlight.
But one Christmas Eve, he sneezed during flight!
He came to the ward
as a day case
for minor surgery
but when he came round
Graham was sobbing
overwhelmed
overcome with grief.
As a farmer
he had kept on
kept going
through one task after another
making sure all was done
until he had to stop
for surgery.
It was then
only then
that his loss caught up
overtook him
laid him flat.
How could he go back
to that empty home
without Alison
his beloved.
From day case
he was transferred
to mental health care
for grief work
until his soul caught up
adjusted
to the sad reality.
Politics is a thing in itself it’s a trust of most trusted
A part of reality akin to weather you take as it comes
Choose or not what is chosen for you anyway you’re adjusted
To a fate of some nation from which to drop out there isn’t a chance
So in the evening, beside the desk, you take care of the news
Seeing your facelessly multiplied fate in one line maybe two
Feeling generalized for just nothing you’d consciously use
You envy Descartes, and the rose in the garden that’s growing for you.
I brought him home for the other two dogs to see
they gave me the look of what's wrong with me
He was big and fluffy and ever so soft
a big puppy at that who seemed a little off
He adjusted to them but did they to him
he was calm and quiet I knew he could fit in
He was hungry like starving and ate and ate
not just his own but the other two dogs plates
I knew in time he would realize he would always eat
and in a few days his hunger defeat, maybe a week
Sassy was afraid to eat out of her bowl
I fed her in hiding so he wouldn't know
Genghis avoided him smart to do
for Cosmo was large and could squash the dude
Cosmo and Sassy like to run and play
Sassy growls like a grizzly having fun her way
Finally a dog big enough for her to play with
I hold Genghis as he watches miffed
Cosmo sniffs Genghis, he sniffs again and again
the old little guy gets annoyed but holds it in
He sniffs him from head to toe, front to back
finally little Genghis growls that's enough of that
Cosmo the third dog and my pack is complete
each dog a good friend with personalities unique.
Can you not be what you made me to see?
My siren song of woven poesy—
Sealing my choice on your brand with a roar—
Am I right, or have you blinded my core?
You are my mountains, my rivers, my hills.
Why, then, indictment after your cheap thrills?
Honeyed lips lie behind lipstick and paint;
My verdure, my air, my people you taint.
Your essence of playful epiphanies,
Perfect, filtered, adjusted sanctities,
Are the dreads of death in the heart of hearths—
A cavernous gloom of illusive arts.
And upon that stand, blow the Judas Kiss:
If repentance fails, who would be your tryst?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The gray squirrel spotted a broom
leaning up by the porch~
Had quite the marvelous notion.
Not one to consider the why or the how,
he scrambled right up it, tail twitching,
chattering to himself,
"I’ll master this stick with the straws!”
He perched on the handle,
wiggled his rump,
adjusted his paws,
then flicked his tail twice—there!
A leap? No, a shuffle. A wobble?
No, a lurch!
He clung with three paws
to his unstable perch.
The broom, being broom-like,
just leaned to the right,
then sloooowly,
politely,
keeled
over.
Just gravity’s pull and
a soft, leafy thud.
The squirrel blinked once,
sniffed the rude bristles,
then shrugged
(in a squirrelish way).
He rode the broomstick,
well... sort of. Near it.
He’d touched it while falling!
That counted! (In spirit.)
He flicked his tail
with a dignified air,
stole three porch-side daisies,
and vanished.
Somewhere.
To this day,
the broom lays abandoned.
Somewhere nearby
an adventure-seeking rodent
plots riding the rake
leaning next to the
old oak tree.
Kids In Commercials
Are Way More Well
Adjusted, You Know,
More Than REAL
Kids Are...
At Least They ACT
Like They Are...
You Know, But Kids
Are Cuter Than Adults...
***
Who Still Do Exactly
The Same Thing...
*
But More Generic.
*
They Should Be CUTER!
***
Let ME Just Say:
"Make
Everybody
Cuter Still,
Computer!"
-Gray Squirrel
09-08-2025
The surgeon
had successfully removed his libido
and fed it to the hospital cat.
Corridors became whispering tubes
for I.V. drip pushing wanderers,
their pale bottoms peering out
like beluga whales through the cracks
of gaping gowns.
He dreamed often,
the drugs swiped his mind,
he was a screen, that with flickering ease
erased and replaced his life
with crazily narrated electric poetry,
a hypersonic buzz
that pretzelled his thoughts.
A nurse appeared to him between
the sensual waves that spayed across
his surgically mauled mortality.
She was erotically enhanced,
her trance-dance of sexuality
poured into his flaccid organs
like a shot of ice-cold Taquilla.
Once she spoke to him - just once.
Her words were umber honey
between his parted lips.
He struggled to understand.
Clarity came upon him -
"You're my libido."
He had forgotten about the cat!
She purred softly
as she adjusted his pillows.
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