I can make it rain when things need to be washed down the drain,i can make it. rain and go inside, i don't want to play no more. Momma open the door turn on some soothing music to compliment the rain drops striking the window panes,thank God i can make it rain.
When things go wrong and sometimes they will do that I choose not to get on the phone and go chat chat knowing they can't do nothing about that 'n that I choose to make it rain cause i don't want to play no mo.
"SO MOTE IT BE!"
Like the rose bushes,
Our lives are petaled and thorned:
Vased in God’s healings.
Is this the asylum whispering in my ear,
voices of my past want to come back to wash me,
childhood traumas and war genocide, doing its job
i was carved long ago, by the belt of my father
many shapes and many depths,
i can still feel ringing in my ears,
from that heavy hand and a wooden spoon,
my mothers voice, than my fathers,
i took this shape and it was unfamiliar,
how did i get here, am i just a piece of clay,
and who is next, to change who i am
i threw bread into my mothers face today,
i was hungry i just wanted to eat,
father is gone by now probably just a skull,
leftover from a man who raised me,
we were never the same after he was gone
my hunger turned into killer, my killer,
all i wanted was to eat today, mother
but she wouldn't stop repeating These words
" I SHOULD HAVE KILLED YOU WHEN YOU WERE BORN"!!
Where did it go.? That sustainable world.' Its been promised now for decades by
Those well meaning? nerds! who grew up
In a world where in an hours walk along any high street, you could get most items
Everyday needs were covered, replete.' And for a little more outlay, we'd afford an
Odd treat, then inside fifteen minutes you
Were inside the door, packing out shelves
With priducts galore' all this could be
done in any village, or regiinal town, there was no need to go to a city, though as always they were around.' What a novel way of living.' In fact the nerds stole its soul.! Packaged that fifteen minute reality
And swapped it, for a lack-lustre gaol, mafe of techy non-sense and remote overviews.' That serve no real
purpose that it seems is the best nerds can do.' A
Cold austaire experience..An
androgynous extreme,.' An existence
gated with passwords, its quite thi cludo-esque nightmare.? Not even a dream, and the saying that, makes sense now of wool
Pulling over eyes.' Is manifest when i realise how many sheep exist, mentally in
The human guise.'
Anyone who’s lived on a farm
Or raised their own pets knows
That sometimes it’s kinder to put it down
Than to let it suffer in vain
Or spread its disease to others.
It’s the harsh reality of animal husbandry,
But they are animals after all
At least that is what we can tell ourselves
To make the difficult choices
A little easier to bear.
Western civilization is at a similar point
Needing to make the hard choices to survive.
Fortunately those we have to put down
Are also just animals, not yet fully human
As they spread their disease of chaos and hate.
Who are they you may ask?
Just look around, their words are clear,
And their actions speak even louder
And if you can’t tell who is who, just look
At their costumes, it makes for an easy target.
(10/5/26)
There ought to be a law against it,
Definitely not a good fit,
To pass a law without a way to enforce it.
There ought to be a law against it,
Allowing some brainless twit,
To think of it,
There ought to be law against it,
Passing a law without local input,
To make nonsense of it.
There ought to be a law against it,
When a law change allows only lawyers to profit,
And productivity stalls because of it.
There ought to be a law against it,
Law changes to make crime legit,
With police on sick leave because of it.
There ought to be a law against it,
A law to tell us when to sit,
With there are not enough chairs to allow for it.
Life isn't a scattered piece.
It unfolds into trillions of unknown roads:
Some lead to light,
Some to dark,
Some to danger,
Some to heal.
They stretch endlessly.
The soul that once arrived,
Splinters into fragments.
The glass can be shattered or melted,
Cracked or polished,
Fused or cut,
Recycled or etched.
Yet it remains glass.
Some earn a name.
Some don't.
Yet all meet at the same place,
Where every arrival has always awaited its return.
Demise and emergence:
The funnel and source;
The one no one can ignore,
Still lingering to reclaim
The soul it once awakened.
All you earn,
Remains only as fragments of yesterday.
Roads remember your footsteps,
Until they fade into echoes no one hears.
Names become whispers no one remembers.
Yet the soul keeps chasing the unseen tomorrow,
The endless race,
Forgetting the waiting funnel of life,
That waits to end the journey,
That once began among millions
Of unknown roads.
I experience reality from my own Perspective.
If I had not existed to experience reality from my perspective I would not have experienced it at all.
Who can see if not me?
Who am I if not me?
can we be who we chose to be
Or are we known as who we thought we have been?
who am I if not me?
can I be who I want to be?
am I free or am I me?
Who am I if not I am me?
I am who I experience myself to be?
my experience is dependent on my own perception of reality from my own Perspective.
All the beautiful people,
all the different faces
So many lovely people,
come from so many different places
We meet them each and every day,
we can meet them here and there
We meet so many wonderful people-
look... for they are everywhere
All the ugly people,
they have many different faces
It's not their looks that are ugly;
it's just the way that their heart is
We meet them each and every day,
we meet them there and here
We meet so many ugly people-
look... for they also everywhere
All the people in the world,
why can't they all be kind
There are so many beautiful people,
and they're not hard to find
There are too many ugly people,
why can't they all just be so pretty
All the ugly people in the world,
isn't it a pity
Now it is finally the time
To say arrivederci Winter
It was indeed a long Winter
I was already getting sick
Of the Winter
That never seem to ended
Now finally my Father
Brought the Spring today
Also my Father brought back
Home the birds that I was missing
For a long time now
At night time I live the windows
Open so it can cool my house
Because I have no air conditioning
And I been living in my
House
For a long time now
Also I love the area I live
In
The birds wake me up
With their song first thing
In the morning
I am already used to that
It seems obvious to me
That we’ve been here before
But don’t ask me if I see
Who we were so long ago
I think many feel the same
Though they make of it a joke
Once I had a different name
Different tongue I spoke
Once you came down, dressed in satin
We went walking in the park
You bombarded me with Latin
Quoting Horace and Plutarch
You were laughing your head off
In the pouring rain
We were happy, weren’t we, love?
Bring it back again…
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.
Proposal
_____________
By: Muchov Nuttin
Ababstract
________________
To introduce vast amounts of sodium to rough raw sand aka silca.
Objective
------------------
To create sodium crystals that extract gold coloring from sand.
To extract iron from sad to create an ironized crystal.
Overall objective
----------------------------
To extract pure gold in large qualities.
Idea
----------
Using desert sand and beach sand
Injecting hot malta like sodium into
Both raw and rough( sand) materials.
To inspire an ironish state of matter
There red crystals can be visible known
Rubato odvious
to the visible eye as ironized silca.
There the extraction of gold can occur.
"Rubato Odvious" a state were the reds
indicate the presence of gold.
Profet Objective
-------------------------------------
To make this way of gold mining
the most profitable way of doing
So.
My mind a cave of favorite characters
And greatest hits
A life time of connections and sidekicks
Frank Zappa plays the soundtrack
In a tumble of tightly compressed acoustic riffs
A genius long gone, but ever present.
When he’s done he says,
In tightly compressed electronic bytes
“May we burn it all down.”
And I wake refreshed
To another day, another dawn.
(9/17/26)
The final threshold.
Death gives a sign,
uncertainty and unanswered questions.
A strong and sturdy bridge,
that many have walked across.
Listening in the emptiness,
a harp without strings.
Emotionally imperfect.
Words fail,
thoughts and feelings dominate the room.
~ without need for description
You have struggled for so long.
Accepting does not refer giving up.
The thing I never said
meant nothing,
Words cannot change the course of life.
A night without a facade,
reflecting your truth and sagacity.
You do not need to prepare.
Follow the light in soothing peace,
with unconditional acceptance.
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