viridescent wrench
adventitious
sparks prompt
yet
cloned camouflage
for psyche
rue’d quandary
withered wisps
nebulous
blind sweep
to bolster
plangent paean
of
helium hinged
extraneous
life sojourn
brazen folly
as
crimson cordon
ushers blurred
mystic squall
quirky quilt
engulfing
behemoth blemish
post sequence
encrypted kismet
punctual launchpad
to
wizard woo
violin mesmerizing
allusive pluck
sun-dried spiccato
bouncing bow
on
ear adorned
murmuration
intaglio instant
pregnant alms
luxuriant
gazillion gust
oe’r
hint endowed
sky syndicate’s
phantom limb
an
opulent cascade
ubiquitous umbra
bequeathing
lush serendipity
propitious prism
shadow conjuror
of
lilac lavishness
tangibly material
as
cerebral chakra
intuits rapt
sublime sublimation
Viridescent wrench
adventitious
sparks prompt
yet
cloned camouflage
for psyche’s
rue’d quandary
withered wisps
nebulous
blind sweep
to bolster
plangent paean
of
helium hinged
extraneous
life sojourn
brazen folly
as
crimson cordon
ushers blurred
mystic squall
quirky quilt
engulfing
behemoth blemish
post sequence
encrypted kismet
punctual launchpad
to
wizard woo
violin mesmerizing
allusive pluck
sun-dried spiccato
bouncing bow
on
ear adorned
murmuration
intaglio instant
pregnant alms
luxuriant
gazillion gust
oe’r
hint endowed
sky syndicate’s
phantom limb
an
opulent cascade
ubiquitous umbra
bequeathing
lush serendipity
propitious prism
shadow conjuror
of
lilac lavishness
tangibly material
as
cerebral chakra
intuits rapt
sublime sublimation
Cosmic Adventure
There, upon the launchpad, the countdown proceeds
as bolts explode, and the umbilical apparatus releases,
and massive amounts of energy bursts from engine ignition
to create propulsion thrust and lift-off reaction
for the vehicle’s escape from Earth’s gravitational attraction
in sequential stages, skyrocketing into the orbital trajectory
of slingshot phenomenon to the universe of cosmic adventure,
likened to explorers in olden days piercing the unknown aperture.
Through the porthole, astronauts marvel at the spectacular scenery
as they watch their country on the blue planet disappear gradually.
Emotionally restrained, the astronauts resume their mission,
methodically pushing buttons and recording observations
in a four-dimensional continuum relativity experience,
limited in scope by the laws of scientific ingenuity.
The feel of anger when you cannot shout,
it can be enough to drive someone mad.
Do you know what I am talking about?
I’m aware fellowship can make you glad.
Finding support within a conjunct pout,
you run catapulting off that launchpad.
Still, it’s easier to unleash your voice,
deprived eats you like an unpaid invoice.
molecules in body become aligned aware
purification a process of mind
equanimity the reachable finely tuned kind
keeping balance is a high welfare
pain and pleasure in equal measure
Faith Patience and Love together
Sun needs Rocket and Launchpad
Most High is Ascension and Grounded
3__________333___________3_________3
—A Lunar Ballad from the Year 2088
The year was 2088—
I stood in Beijing beneath neon skies,
Clutching a visa to the Moon,
Where dynasties now rise beyond the clouds.
China, bold architect of the stars,
Has carved empires on the Dark Side—
No longer myth or mystery,
But fields of fusion and factories of fire.
Helium-3, mined from silver dust,
Feeds reactors like newborn suns,
Its radiant breath beamed to Earth
Through radio waves that hum like prayer.
Moon is no longer a lifeless rock—
It breathes with industry and grace.
Two hundred pioneers now call it home,
Cradled in glass domes kissed by starlight.
From its soil, green hues emerge—
Lunar gardens bloom in synthetic rain,
A soft rebellion against the cold void,
Where silence once reigned unbroken.
The Moon—
A launchpad, a lab,
An empire of dreamers and coded command.
And above us, floating stations gleam—
Space Islands, fuel stops for tomorrow’s odyssey.
China now commands the current of power,
Energy pulses in her hands—
While Earth bows gently to the moonlit tides
Of this celestial dynasty.
I’m walking through the rough roads,
Losing traction in my current situation.
There is no scheme or death trap,
It’s a springboard to my launchpad.
A stirring is taking place during this hour,
Disruption and shift are in motion.
It’s getting messy and uncomfortable,
I sense climate change is in effect.
Discouragement comes and goes,
But life won’t be full of woes.
Lately I’ve been stressing out,
I just hope it doesn’t take me out.
I’ve survived tough roads in the past,
So I know I’m built for this, and to last.
Another chance to grow and learn,
That’s what milestones make a major turn.
Gently french kiss your darkness mad,
break the restraints leave obsession;
Lick up the buried aggression;
You may not be scantily clad,
yet soft skin becomes a scratchpad;
Repurpose gall into passion,
gently french kiss;
It’s not too much to hurt so bad,
won’t go on without my ration;
I can’t let go I’ll not move on;
A quickened breath is the launchpad,
gently french kiss .
Bequeathed of the faculty of
balanced return, of equilibrium,
turning the totem burn of caloric expectancy,
cause and effect
translating universal machine dialect
satellite positioning itself in the physics of
affection, affinity, sistered brotherhood in
reality check of relative fee.
Beneath the atmosphere, here,
clings one to another like faded dusk
to a pregnant dawn.
As he leaves, she returns, again
to meet him in circular run.
In Fibonacci launchpad portals of
action and reaction chained to loop again.
Chi and grace turns,- will and space.
Like a cog that swings the pendulum scale,
weighing relational phi in the window of pi?
Certainly in the window of possibility
where the harmonic scale is like two dragons
chasing each other's tales,
hooking claws into foothold of reality,
like a fitting piece of harmonic puzzle poetry.
There is no facade here, no illusion or trickery.
Science is poetry and poetry is the science
of the mind in artistry, intertwined.
Everything with potential, dependency.
Yin and Yang,
of the divine.
I will always wonder what sort of love we had.
I was naive and blindly infatuated.
You were seventeen years older than I, and sad.
From the beginning our shaky love was fated.
We had met and I fell, but patiently waited,
a fact for which both of our families were glad.
Even though we spoke with words insinuated,
I will always wonder what sort of love we had.
I wonder if we were a curious dyad.
Was this acerbic love become hate belated?
Only God will decide if this is good or bad.
I was naive and blindly infatuated.
Love faded rapidly after we had dated.
I wondered if I should remain calm or be mad,
I questioned guilty feelings that were created.
You were seventeen years older than I, and sad.
You were time-worn, emotionally armor-clad.
I understand now you would never be sated.
You bore the spirit of an unsettled nomad,
from the beginning our shaky love was fated.
Achingly romantic dreams I had created,
a basis for lifetime togetherness’ launchpad.
Alas, I have become confused and frustrated.
Tomorrow, in a renewed search for Galahad,
I will always wonder.
Prayer Summarization
Miracle Man
3-15-2022
My tomorrow’s are uncharted save by God,
and today a brief moment in His time.
Let this day be spent not behind a facade,
as any mountain placed before me, I climb.
Let today not drown in innuendo, but fact,
not repeating things, thought to be untrue.
Always considering others before I speak or act,
and my thoughts today be centered upon you.
Help me not become engrossed in newsy things,
for most broadcast news only highlights the bad.
Help me find joy in whatever this day brings,
viewing today as my tomorrow’s launchpad.
Amen
The man with launchpad hair glides by
Glowing orange in the mountain view
A red balloon bobbles by his side
The other man holds his diaper high
Blows bubbles and waves a magic wand
Hand in hand both men dance in circles
Skip right off the cliff together
Or is it to the left of heaven
As the media suggested
They kiss the world good-bye
Off to see the wizard and Jesus in the sky
And as many other constituents who can fly
Morning Musings
For 3/14/2020
By: Tom
life is an assemblage of days,
linked together, both good and bad.
For many, only a short phase,
for me, it's been Heaven's launchpad.
YOU? Why are YOU up in here, all on the prowl,
looking closely at me, causing me to scowl?
DUDE, can't you see anger set in my jowls?
I just arrived brand new, so I still remember
how my last life ended one cold September
when someone - YOU - forgot to yell timber!
Are you listening, seeing this face, witnessing
my expression of disdain as loathing clad?
You scad ... what, huh .. what DID new Mom call you?
NOT grandad, no - no, that cannot be true.
You and me, related .. that I cannot do.
The angels must have placed this wee doodad
on the wrong heavenly infant launchpad.
Oh, me, just great - I'm already living mad.
2015-05-20
Morning
This small fragment of my daily routine,
bathed in, drowned in coffee and cream.
When the animal inside my head awakes
my world rocks and rolls, quivers, quakes.
I love the morning, a rocket to the sun.
Launchpad, countdown, three, two, one,
zero, liftoff and another day’s begun.
I just wanna have…
…and I’m gonna have fun.
‘Nuff said!
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