Question any advice from a friend at 1:12 a.m.
— it’s probably unsound—
but better than staring at the ceiling with your thoughts.
The solution to existential dread is just… outfits and vibes.
Last night, as I slept like a baby - or a log - or a baby log -
I dreamt of vintage Gap dresses and 80s ivory pink glam glitter cocktail frocks.
Sometimes the only available response to civilization is
to buy an imaginary vintage Gap dress and call it coping.
And for some reason, I dreamt, briefly, of Trump as Jesus.
If sleep fails to restore the mind, at least it deals vivid
images to decorate our unconscious unease.
Trump thinks of himself as Jesus—but the question is:
Has Trump actually read the Bible?
Maybe Trump doesn’t know what happened to Jesus.
Spoiler: the Romans got cross with him.
Some jokes are so stupid—they have to be true.
.
.
A song for this:
Dreams by The Cranberries
.
note: You don’t have to read the Bible, you could stream the movie:
The Bible (1966) directed by John Huston
.
prance'n 'bout
mine pit
fire
triplettes
wit
forest green
amber cotton
redwine
stay back edvard frocks (he jamez)
blindz meanz
')
My hair falls free in wind and rain
And in sun, it flows free again.
No scarf nor cloth shall press my locks,
Nor bargain me in dismal frocks.
Around my neck I wear no chain.
I brush my hair, I snap my mane.
The banal bonnet I disdain.
I listen not where evil talks.
My hair falls free
Cast not a slur to Music's strain;
Music that lets my hair remain
In wild, symphonic flowing locks
That spurs remarks in envious talks.
My hair falls free in wind and rain.
Fragrances of roses wafted throughout the garden
No idea why I had been invited, but I cherished this scent
Others milled around in fancy frocks and expensive suits
My dress was a plain blue with tiny yellow daisies
“I hear you traded silence for roses,” someone said.
Thought he was talking to me. Turned to answer.
Found myself facing two gorgeous apricot rose bushes.
Knew I would have to speak eventually, but not yet.
Did not recognize the rest of the staff, as I was new.
School had not started yet; we were at an ice breaker.
Was going to ditch this activity but my mother talked me into it.
She loved roses and asked me to take pictures.
I pulled out my camera and began to get some close ups.
Pink, peach, red, yellow and white blooms posed innocently.
“I hear you traded silence for roses,” the same voice said.
I turned and faced the speaker. a handsome young lad.
“I guess we both did,” I replied.
He had a nice smile, beautiful light blue eyes.
“I am glad I am here,” he told me. “I do adore roses.”
He made many points in my mother’s book for this.
Little feet tender and coy
The streams mirror her luminescent joy
Golden locks cascading down her arms
White dahlias cupped in her palms
She roams endlessly the mountain of rocks
Frolicking about in her bright frocks
She stands clad in a white veil
Her tears a muffled wail
White ribbons harass her wrists
Church bells resonate through the trysts
White visatrias' frangrance wisp away
As sweet as her innocence is stripped astray
Pray tell, the wretched life of a dame
We preach in God's name
the choir chimed in
a chorus of rebuke
or stones we'd hurl
abusing the adulteress's skin
shoot your pocket rocks
passing judgment comes down
like diluvial rains splashing
gory-red upon your frocks
it was to be...
her luggage, some water-jars
Samaritan's soles cooked &
cured by partiality &
cancel culture, burying stars
Desert Rose Parchment Gazette
circulated the dame's tragedies
watering-hole purists rebuffed her
like Hester of Scarlet
it was to be...
but five (4+1) days late
the state of death
arose, rank and proud
with results beyond debate
Brother Lazarus' fate sealed
in the tacit tombs
there for the world
and his women appealed
none was to be
ne'er was to be
Oh, Creator of Earth,
& Heavens outweighs the
chains of men's destinies
enters seas of dearth
that i should gain
Your cherubic fiddling surceased:
extemporizing treatises in sands
divining springs quenching pain
How impossibly the author
of Tomorrow and hero
of souls and spine
of faith, the purveyor
of Paradise and mercy
of the made, despoils
death's feats & fervor.
Selah. Let it be.
.
i felt that giggle
rising up mine throat
az
suddenly
it screech'd to thuh halt
somewherez 'bout mine
vocal bandz
for i caught the notice
uv her flecks
most notably
'bout hern innocent
yet
perceptive
visage
back to it though
again
i stunned
az she dropped her
frock
*just for the record; oh yeah, most
uv the feminine wear frocks in the
back woodz...lol...at thuh least,
'round my land ,)
.
frolic'n in the
temperate grasslandz
'hind my inviolable haunt
thuh eager nymph
whilst mine digits 'pon slip
explicate such wander
hern learnz me
diaphanous white frocks
fresh out uv thuh
chilly creek
cauze think
mine think
thinks
'bout
hern
naked 'neath
peachy
blush'n bloom'n
rosette sheath
az we speak'd
Ohio is right here, and the rattling gold of
earth-born corn is here.
All over creation the sky is wide open
and the green and yellow stalks are swaying
right here.
Here the wind-songs are rough and ready,
yet they are as holy as any prayer.
Over there a stand of trees
where the olive frocks of summer
sway and shimmy.
The mud and dirt here is as good as any,
all just as rich as anywhere else
and the grubbing creatures in and upon it
are our wealth
These fetched-up farm fields
are sure-enough an atlas,
the roots of heaven rise below us,
time delves and sprouts here,
the sky descends to till the soil.
This is the land beyond the great river,
the sun nests here, and the stars appear
reflected in up-turned eyes.
We are the unrolled map, we are rural Ohio,
come walk over the world here,
rest on a wayside bench, linger long
or stay - right here.
"Flowers, the emblems of beauty and fragrance proudly assert that loveliness can catch every eye and brighten even the gloomiest heart" ~ By Poet
look at these white blossoms,
attired in snow white velvety frocks,
unassuming and elegant
under the canopy of the starlit sky.
though tiny in size,
en masse they exude a hypnotic charm.
birthed in the stillness of night,
they proclaim their presence,
in dazzling white.
decked by dewy beads,
they dance freely unnoticed.
some perfume the air
with exotic scent,
permeating the nightly breeze.
during day, they wait to be garlanded,
by the amber beams of the sun,
longing to be hugged and kissed
by the amorous butterflies.
these simple beauties are the silent partakers,
of life’s most beautiful romance!
Two skinny legs dangle from hand-me-down frocks.
Elastic bands holding up her socks.
Scuffed shoes on her feet so small they barley fit.
Water leaks through the crack where the sole had split.
Wheat coloured hair pulled away from her face.
Tied back in a pony tail with a crimson lace.
Blush Full lips hide a row of crooked teeth.
Always on show when she opens her mouth to speak.
Deep blue eyes and pale white skin.
Her frame is petite and she is painfully thin.
Her existence is humble but she is rich beyond compare.
For she lives in a home with love in it, a bond that they all share.
Many years have passed, a woman is she, respectful, beautiful and kind.
Now re living fond memories of the happy child hood she left behind.
Me and my friend, we had a tea party,
She poured a cup, our laughs rang out hearty,
Flowers in our hair and frills in our frocks,
Red blush on our cheeks and curls in our locks,
A big slice of the cake that mom had made,
We ate, shared our stories and drank and played,
We smiled big smiles, and had fun without rest,
On the whole, our tea party was the best.
Picture #2
I love my socks, all colours and design
The brighter the nicer, simply sublime
Socks warm feet, cosy and snug as a rug
Fabulous for dancing the jitterbug.
Many times I find there’s holes in one sock
I wonder should I keep the odd one in stock
Do I throw the odd sock away, oh no
I wear odd socks and merrily do so.
One may suggest wearing odd socks is strange
But look how one’s money would slip down drain
Getting extra wear out of an odd sock
In these days of inflation odd socks rock.
So guys and gals hold onto your odd socks
And match them up with your shirts or your frocks
Bestow quirky brightness to every day
Nevermore to throw an odd sock away.
We had never seen such a creature at Lake Shady
She was a cross between a fox and a lady
Built with all the curves of a human being too
But with fox eyes and wisdom, said observer Lou.
She is the utmost, the quintessential lady of the lake.
Will protect all of you beings, of that make no mistake
She is a princess, warrior, wise woman, a foxy-fox.
She looks wonderful too in her armor and dainty frocks.
Damsels in golden frocks,
Dance in warm Spring breezes.
Distinctive trumpet blooms
Dazzle the eyes after
Dreary Winter's grey gloom.
Delightful in bouquets,
Dangerous if eaten.
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