“You saw them two sticks of that chicks’ and you know when you saw them you would easily be teased until on your knees, bereaved and pleased just by one simple hint of a squeeze breezing by the easily greasy feasibly weave that would succeed the mead that would come from honey by the bunny that would breed the pleading steed doing the deed that would not only completely beat the heat but accomplish the feat leaving the steep cleat carousing creeps to seek a new discreet meet up to wreak their teal dealing tear drop one stop hop hillbilly thrills of the buzz kills that go to stop the lot of pill popping pushers of the lush gush ers who stutter when one blunder makes a whole sunder of plunder wonder scum but humble for some done shunned gunning under-run mung crumb grumblers who then became grateful because the fate of the hate breaking masturbating mating rituals became habitually cyclically mystical in the fulfilling pill-killer of a psycho thriller!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Stare from stop point,
for a stand point
Worthy the pillar devoid?
lost in lasting why?
Details of tale, entail,
characters who maintain,
So is author's explanation
authority often torture,
Frequent and recent capture,
claim is, best option,
See habitually, their dislike
come, see.
Barely forced,
in doubt, ain't indebt
Consider profit,
a source of balance
And much ahead,
ever come to conclude
Hesitation,
of immersion in self?
So within intention,
a pace form face
Lucky born form,
pursue no shadow
Left in reverse, realize
in rage, or revise level
Far be, reunion with hate
funny to guess try?
Repeating with courage,
speculations root
A fair teary concern,
from doubt
Come,
See...
(“Outside Looking In Merit Badge”, 2011, original oil)
In a dream
The repeated pattern of my own conditioning
Like a Groundhog’s Day set on reset
Reveals to me the futility of the human condition
Habitually doing the same things
While expecting different results;
As Einstein said, THE definition of insanity.
Yet again and again we also wake
With at least the hope of sanity,
The freshness of not being habitually driven
Until we once again start to do
And the conditioning of all these lifetimes
Kicks in again, as we
Without thought, without effort
Take the easy path of least resistance.
(11/24/25)
Dogs are honest.
In other words they don’t lie.
And so you can learn a lot from them.
Humans on the other hand
Are great deceivers and disseminators
In the cause of self interest.
Dogs like self interest too of course
But it’s always a lot more obvious and simple.
Humans more often than not couch
Their self interest in kindness.
There’s a big difference there you know
Honesty being simply what it is
And kindness being up for question
And interpretation,
And so way more superficial.
I like kindness, in fact I habitually do it,
But I like honesty more.
And that’s why I tend to love and trust dogs
More than most of humanity.
Maybe that’s a sad state of affairs
But I don’t think I’m alone.
(10/25/25)
Awakening humanity.' Struggling within the breadth and depth of possibility's revelling in those possibility's and also an
Obstinancy.' Blood-soaked actions stoking their reality wanderers all' Lost leaders exploring so much iniquity bursts of good; with some intensity! Travelling in orbits so
Habitually. Builders of edifices in great vanity' until redemption through the veil of flesh; to humanity.' By God
Good Father and intervetionally, in records; and at places
Known historically.' We can follow direction to equanimity'
To Love of all by His path to unity.. No competing teachings.. Some of religiousity.? combine of all factors
Universally, other volumes speak of gaining peace by violence? and volitillity.' In divisivness and opressivity."
By opting children into marriage or co'habitation.. There
Is also taught' forced subjection and much rapicity.!
The merry widow’s marvelous mincemeat melody
Was gradually heard around three by the old oak tree
Honestly said Bert, the bumblebee, is this the Grand Prix?
Miraculously, there was a royal red revelry
A chickadee landed on the right knee of Diana Dee
Making her a friend in furious practicality
Old oak tree receded into the loving forest canopy
Forming a deliberate, desired universal solid symmetry
Would you like a chewy chickpea Lee asked widow and me.
I heard hyena-like laughter from Leroy, the red-butted monkey
Rolling them in warm tortillas is the chef’s secret recipe
Flamboyant frog huffed away, jingling her copper jewelry
The rest of us stared, which we do on Wednesdays, habitually
Being yourself and making no apology is the key said monkey
The faeries made themselves tinier, they were in fact now wee
Lovely monorhyme in progress, guessed my observant cousin Vee
I must agree said my boss, the pompous persnickety Mr. McGee
The rhymes are rather delightful, and frankly, there are plenty.
("Lonesome Day Blues", 2025, original encaustic)
Spinning Stories
Waking or sleeping
Continuously we spin believable stories
Ideal or terrible
Or just simply boring or strange.
Obviously
It’s what our minds habitually do
And we believe them
Even when it’s clear we shouldn’t
Because they are our stories
Spun into a web
To hold our attention, hold us up
And hold something,
A lack at our center and beyond
Our periphery, back.
We spin believable stories,
A spider in a matrix of its own design,
To bring order
To chaos
Because that’s just what minds habitually do.
(4/20/25)
sweet smell of her envy perfume
drowned that stench of betrayal play
stygian smile blurred by church-white veil
her heart habitually astray
Alas! You dark, grotesque, vile servant of Lucifer, the antithesis of the morning star.
Once again, you have sought me out and endeavored to siphon my light at the end of my tunnel.
In the past, you may have thwarted my desires, cast me into purgatory,
and whispered sophistry in the crevices of my mind.
But NOW your machinations are no threat to me. What once was a callow mind has turned into growth over time.
I have learned to see where there is no light, how to climb where there is no ladder.
So do your best, you nocturnal fiend. Your reign is over; you no longer have influence over me.
Now I know, good times and bad times are like tides that ebb and flow.
So traverse the realms to shroud my days in night.
I will say to thee, “Hello, my old friend. Do your worst, because God has bestowed upon me my own personal light, and I walk by it habitually every day and night.”
suddenly the bird sings, quite suddenly, startling
the stranger-to-the-dawn of day; he thinks the bird
is where the bird shouldn’t be; but knowingly,
with amusement, having quite habitually heard
the bird tweet, as the morning sun stretches its wings,
the wife informs the stranger to the waning dusk,
“oh dear husband, the bird sings from the tree,”
but he must widen the slats of the levolor blinds,
to open his eyes, to the world that exists above
his office in the split level basement. where did he think
the melody resounded from - the deck? no,
the great by and by, the bluest sky, the sun’s rays…
its hazy, at best. the mind needs a rest…startled
It's a sad state of affairs,
People habitually stuck with
noses in their phones
Before they know it, they are old,
and precious years,long lost, have flown
By:J.N.R Dutton
And how much chuck could a nunchuck chuck if a nunchuck’s Chuck is Norris?
A chuckling nun habitually chucking her habit soon has none.
What’s done is done
As the chips fall
And the die is cast
Each of us
Taking a part
Donning a mask
To play
Our allotted role
At each step
The road forks
With freedom and tyranny
The choice to make
And so we do
Instinctively, habitually
Compulsively or consciously
A choice that’s always ours
Whose world do you live in after all
One inherited from deceivers
Who apply bandaid visions
To your mind
Or one you find revealed
In each moment
As you joyfully sacrifice
All that has come before
(9/30/24)
Based on a true story
A torture
device
from the pit
of hell,
a sometimes
necessary
evil,
one pair
of shoes
nicknamed
Annoying!
I would be
an habitually
barefoot
person
if not for
cold rain
and winter,
both are
a bane
to my
happy
existence!
(Methow Waters, 2011)
Dreaming
In the space of dreaming
I awaken to what is real,
again and again, dreaming
that everything that has been
has been but a dream of separation
on a journey always coming home.
Layer upon layer these dreams
have built into lifetimes,
each filled with relationships
as real as can be,
but never as real
as what actually is.
In every dream I wander,
the grief of loss and separation
marking each step
that defines a life,
heart broken at the core,
recognized only in the reunion.
And yet, still I know I dream,
a dreamer outside the illusions
habitually spun,
knowing that someday
I will awake at last
and this too will be a dream.
(2/4/24)
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