A song piqued my curiosity
I wonder what you are doing in Heaven today
Sometimes I feel you are so close
Other times you seem farther away
Farther away (I mean of the day you went away)
(I do also mean how far Heaven is away)
But mingled in each thought
Are the memories of which I fraught
In the places I pass remembering our walks and talks
Talks of everything under the sun
These thoughts come rushing in every time I go for a run
So, what are you doing in Heaven today?
Did you wake up late or did you get to sleep in?
Have you met and talked to anyone famous?
I have so many questions, where do I begin?
Are there flowers there, how about hours?
Are there colors and possibilities we’ve not seen?
Are the day-to-day happenings
Like the things we’ve seen on a movie screen?
Please know that I am doing okay
Even though Earthly life looks like a horror flick
I’ll keep trudging on in and with my reveries
Even so Lord Jesus come quick
dew-like dreams descend,
drifting through daylight,
drawing distant depths
down into doing~
delicate, deliberate,
divine.
Darling love, my darling love
Can you see me from above
Doing things I used to do
On my own, without you
Going up and going down
Backwards, forwards and around
Going fast and going slow
Sitting in the afterglow
Thinking if you think of me
Like I do, waiting for thee
Playing solitaire and stuff
Wond’ring where’s my darling love.
THE LOVE THAT IS LOST IN THE WORLD,
I DON'T THINK IT WILL EVER BE REGAINED TO SUSTAIN HUMANITY. ??
(JUST MY THOUGHTS)
When you want something done right you just have to do it yourself
When you are young
What do you know of old age?
Then life is at a high noon.
But old age comes
It comes with loss.
Your heart begins to weaken
Your breath becomes quite short
Your muscles are not strong anymore
Even walking the dog is a tiring chore
And the days at the sea are no longer fun
Life often seems sad bleak and without sun.
Sleep and prayer offer some relief
But I can often can hear these words
“Enough is enough of this grief”
My mind sometimes says to me,
“I’m too young to be old”
But my body says, “you’ll see.”
So, I do what I can
Usually pushing for more
I regulate the days to spend
Most time with art and garden friend
I breathe in God with every move
Sending out blessings of deliverance to all
For all the good I still can do until I go.
"You are the poet, I am the poem," she said.
I love doing this life thing with you
Where you call me Sweetboy
Like it’s a place I belong,
And I call you Pretty Sally
Because the name carries my whole heart.
You love my freckles, the way I look at you
The quiet details I never noticed.
I love the sound of your voice, the way it stays with me
The way you can't see without your glasses
Yet somehow, you always see me,
And talk of your smile,
I love the sparkle of braces when joy catches you off guard
And the way you dress, effortlessly.
The little things that make you, you.
"You are just a girl who doesn't like wahala"
Guarding your peace while you walk.
Even in your high platform sandals,
You’re still short
But you're everything I look up to.
I love how close we are,
How love between us speaks without explaining itself.
And when I’m at my lowest,
When life empties my hands,
One call from you fills them back up.
You believe in me when I forget how.
You carry faith in us, in me, in tomorrow.
That’s why I love doing this life thing with you.
Not just the good days,
But all of it.
I Love You.
DOING LIFE'S MATH
Negativity,
Squared by NI’s competence:
Positivity!
NO FEAR OF WISEHUY DONALD MASSIMO PELLEGREN FAKED HIS DEATH IN FORT MYERS TO CONTINUE DOING HITS FOR THE MON RUNNING THE WISCONSIN WOMANS PRISONSADLY MASSIMO DECIDED TO IMPERSONATE MY DECEASED FATHER BORN 9.14.1942 CHICAGO WHY SIMPLE LOOKING FOR MY GRANDFATHER HERITAGE SERVING IN ROME SEVERE IDENTITY FRAUD UPON VETERANS AND THEIR FAMILY GAMBINO HITMAN HIDINGBOUT IN DETROIT RUNNING PRISON GAMES THE MAFIA'S HORROR SHOW SEVERE DEATH THREATS HITMEN ATTACKING DISABLED MOTHER ATTEMPTING TO RACKETEER MY AMERICAN POETRY EMBEZZLING A TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY CLAIM ON MY BEHALD FORD MOTOR COMPANY THIS WISEGUY GARMENT DISTRICT HITMAN FAKED HIS DEATH TO BECOME MY FATHER IRONICALLY OBSESSED WITH 1942 MY FATHERS BIRTH DATE
six jars full of buttons and a magic tin
these treasures by grandma were put in
when we began to sew, we could have our pick
out of any jars but not the tin, so thick
The tin is for certain buttons, you are not there yet
we sorted the other buttons, and did not fret
The tin is for when you are experienced, she said
We did not question this, choosing buttons red
When she was gone, we separated the buttons out
my sister and I, getting along, neither of us had a pout
But then my sister reached for the magic tin.
What are you doing? I asked my twin.
Grandma is gone, she reminded me.
Let’s take a peek, at least let’s see.
We opened that tin and stared in awe.
At the prettiest buttons we’d ever saw.
Doing
seems as moving
then~nothing is
moving~nothing
Doing~~
If
separation seems
and most would
say it does~but
the word "seems"
is nothing seeming
as separation~ a
wake-up call for
no one~~
Not
knowing is
a conventional term
for unease with a
desperate need
for a fix~
which seems to
veil a suggested
freedom to know
and not know~~
they said it was justice,
like a clean knife through the heart,
but I’ve seen laws drunker than sailors
and meaner than a kicked dog.
they wrote it down neat,
black ink on white paper,
as if death could ever be civilized,
as if morality had a gavel.
they called it premeditated—
like love, like birth, like failure,
as if we plan our ruin
while the sun still shines.
a man kills a dream,
a woman has a baby,
and they suffocate them for it.
mother and dad brings a baby into this life
knowing the world will eat it alive—
and nobody calls that murder.
florida just found a new god,
and he likes his laws clean,
his gallows polished,
his prayers whispered through clinched eyes teeth.
somewhere, a baby cries then dies
somewhere, justice is laughing at he grins.
He's a jungle boy
Smoking his pain pills
Steadily rolling his blunt
Jumbo size is his favorite
Doing whatever makes him happy his priority.
Always smoking
When he's not, maybe he's
Asleep, bathing, eating and more
He said smoking is his hobby
Because it keeps him reasoning not thinking.
Lost his parents at a very tender age
There was no guidance
Started living reckless and dangerous
Never jealous of anyone
Always zealous in all his endeavors
Many sees him as a savior
Because he always savor every moment.
Article of Congress
Homekey apartment buildings destabilized by
state Assembly and staff
#cagovernor #asmirwin #mikeytaylor
#vcpublicdefender #venturapolice
#vcsheriff #realdonaldtrump #tonybiasotti #latimes
Case Files
Officer in construction site causes?
Injury of structure in perjury of location
Those articles are published and cannot
be legally retracted
Uppity dippitt missing econ man woman
Low grade gottas
Can't find night right
Around thousand oaks Newbury Park California
Little chance make female over come little
income able
Homekey homeless surplus fraud cause
Destabilized democracy
Rex is always doing something over-the-top
We ask him to slow down, we beg him to stop.
He dresses whimsically at the sound of a drop.
For the fourth-of-July he was over-the-top.
He came into sight, and I did a genuflect.
Isn’t it enough that he is a giant t-rex?
No, he wants to do something we do not expect.
He gave us a wave, their neighbor, T-Rex.
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