My world, my people will have no hunger because they will know how to grow, how to produce.
My world will have garden and farming, every jurisdiction will have a farm and everyone will volunteer to do something.
My world will have a walk in and eat for free place, everyone will be biometrics so we can identify you and make you feel comfortable.
My world will have drone police and actual police, no one will get hurt, we will all feel safe.
My world will have walk-in and sleep places or sleeping pods, making no one sleep in the street.
My world will work around the natural world and not destroy nature, because the animals live in the natural world and they need the space.
My world will let everyone have their reservation, their own president, and flag, and laws, like the Indian reservations, making everyone feel happy with their living space.
My world will recognize evil and good, and will work together with love.
Lifting prayers to God, today and always.
I awake in the stuffy camper living space,
and begin rubbing my hands across my greasy face.
Mosquitoes destined to die fly above, about the neon light.
Friends and family already awake waiting for me outside.
The door opens letting the breeze bring new life to the stuffy room.
Grabbing my white shorts and brown glasses I get up and exit my tomb.
My eyes begin to adjust to spring’s bright gloom.
My brother and childhood friends play by the lake shore,
father is cooking sausage on the little electric grill by the back camper’s door.
I open the fridge door and grab a V8,
while letting the sounds of laughter fill my soul till it aches.
Mom is rocking in her grandmother’s rocking chair,
the smell of pollen and mid-spring flowers fills the air.
I stride past my mom and perch upon the porch rail,
the glistening body of teal takes my breath away without fail
We will laugh, we will play, and be childishly free all day
and wish things would always be this way.
And this my friend is this poet’s ever perfect day.
Intelligent
are elephants,
not negligent.
African herds
are killed for tusks -
cruelty loud heard.
Asian giants
lost habitat
to growth tyrants.
Family styled,
elephant hearts
are love compiled.
Despite great strength
they gently love
their long-life length.
Stop evil shoots,
grant living space,
and pray peace roots.
Blue life, blue desire, blue style
I want to leave an aggressive life
Aggressive life, this world. Human
I want to go to another life. Blue style
I can’t understand this world. Human
Killers, terrorists, war heroes. Human
Some people are talking about innovations
Others create conflicts, wars, and death
Hmm. But coming to the end. Hmm
Attention! Dying common living space
The space is not enough. Need find
For love. For life. – New world, planet
Blue life, blue world. The life. Desire
Not human. Then what? Blue life
Peace of life
I can’t find
Here
Said
Satan
Appearances
in time
seem as living space
a home for now
a place which allows
the morning paper
with coffee and
planning a day~
a story unfolding
with expectation and
maybe emptiness~
perhaps suggesting
bondage as freedom~~
Written July 05, 2025
*************
I am anchored when I am a garnet,
The mineral topaz when I shine.
A midnight fantasy of moonstone,
This precious gem's spirit is mine.
Emerald ideas are proliferating,
Within the gardens of my brain.
As opalescent moods still fluctuate,
With indeterminate strain.
I illuminate, akin to a glass prism,
When elation continues to rise.
A Sapphire flame symbolizes justice,
Increasingly irritates my eyes.
When shadows start to thicken,
I don the obsidian stones' grace.
And allow the illumination of jasper,
Restore equilibrium in my living space.
Each diamond carries a whisper,
A truth that I have been able to flow—
This even caused fractures in the facets.
Still catching the dawn glow.
I evolved from stardust,
With spiral galaxies to approve.
Should you perceive that sparkle—
You are stardust, companion, and groove.
They are under the hedge, the elderly,
the silver whiskered. Threadbare possums,
frail chipmunks. The feeble,
squeezed into narrow parts of the day.
Her apartment is hedged in.
Her telephone is a blank land line.
The television is deaf.
A groundhog comes out to gaze at the sunset,
some myopic sniffing, then shuffles back
with that stout old man rolling gait of his.
She forages in her living space,
from a window she blinks at the moon,
only yesterday it slipped from her purse.
Her hands hang soft and blue.
Pills pend under a bedroom lamp.
The hedged in
listen to the small, contained movements
of their elder days.
They will abide here
knitting the hours together
until the long forgetting.
Where is human dignity?
Where is the border? Lamb white cloaks??!
Humans. Women and men. Personal respect
Humans with souls and personal living space
This is a natural sphere. This not psychology
The personal living place and sphere of Life
Comes from the Creation. Parts of humans
Lamb white cloaks
Lamb white cloaks
False science owners
Guilties, sinners!
Lambs with wolf souls!
Why? Why? Answer!
Why do you destroy
The Almighty God’s Laws?
Please respect
My sphere
Jesus was right
Here is the dark age
Future or Death
Ununderstable the powers of our world
This planet full of innovations and solutions
to make bombs, guns, super killer technologies,
but there are eight billion people on this planet
wants to live somewhere. Somewhere…
Soon nine, ten, eleven… billions of lives.
Here is no space, but empty the Space
Planets, solar systems, galaxies, all the Universe
Make living space by murdering our neighbors?
Disgusting will, racism, fascism, evilest mind.
We have super scientists, science to find the way
to the new living spaces, and create more technical
death by guns, missiles, and hyperguns.
The life is our interest, together we can find the way
out from this loved small planet, its life is also limited
With our technologies and minds, we can find
the new living spaces for our human kinds
Together
Organ-ize it
like some sort of sick
symphony
I suppose
though the latter half of my A&P
studies
suggest otherwise
working together in harmony
a kind of homeostasis, (it makes me
shudder to think of any living space being like that)
organ...ized
like fossilized something that sets out a course to
take place over eons of time
that no one small
frail human could ever understand
much less scratch with tiny hands
at the surface of..
it just feels so cold, so
desolate,
but despite all this languid poetry
and verse
the room still has to get cleaned
As he entered the room he pushed the oak door firmly against the wall trapping the shadows in a makeshift Tobelerone his hands frantic on the light switch
Even during the hottest summers he declined the comfort of the shade of towering trees.
Each room in his home had rows of light bulbs
Candles flickered in every corner
Neon tubes hummed in dazzling arrays
The constant thrum of individual generators for each living space.
At night thick slats of iron covered every window
opening only with the touch of sunlight yawn
Why do I whisper hello in my empty spaces he pondered his inner voice answering you know why
He shivered as a draught of unknown origins invited the candles to sway in unison
You fixed Mongolian stew
on a two ring Russian-made burner.
It was understood,
that we would not be drinking
salted milk tea
in Ulan Bator anytime soon.
I would be moving on,
you would be moving into
this one room, bed-less apartment.
Kazakh embroidery,
added an exotic ambience.
to the threadbare living-space.
Later we laid down on goatskins,
imagined that this cold room
was a warm yurt.
Our bodies were a perfect fit,
for an imperfect love.
We kept ourselves warm
beneath thick woolen Deel's,
which we both knew
were the national costume,
of the desperately lost.
Practice the pause. When in doubt, pause. When angry, pause. When tired, pause. When stressed, pause. And when you pause, pray.” —Toby Mac
~~~~~~~~
A movie runs on.
In a high tower
a facsimile of your open eyes
burns through a celluloid strip of film.
A pinpoint of heat
made a hole -
It burned through perception.
A sentient hand reaches out
from mindfulness,
it punches a large button
set at the back of a seat
in the back row
of a movie theater.
The running-on - stops.
You sit back a spell,
re-light a lamp
you had kicked over
in your hurry to keep ahead.
A spool of cooling reality
unwinds,
forming a jumbled heap
on a cutting room floor.
Once again you recall,
that paused living-space,
that prayer room
you could have entered
at anytime.
Lampshades of beauty come in every shade
everyone should have one in their home
for when the moon refuses to cascade
inside your darkened room, then you alone
can light your inner world with glow and shine;
Bruise of night, ecchymosis of the soul
each fearful child of God should have their own
for when the stars refuse to spark, extol
within your living space, then you alone
can light your inner world with glow and shine;
Expensive trinkets I don't need my friend
for dearer still is inner light of heart
a lampshade is a blessing, a godsend
inside a darkened room, yes you alone
can light your inner world and make it shine.
A dense sky-rubble
trundled and spilled above the rooftops
a runaway thunder ground along unseen tracks,
a near salvo rocking mind-cradles,
then a muted detonation over a far off
storm bruised landscape.
The tumult cracked and sizzled-
leaden were the rayless shades.
I returned home in the nick of
a dispersing moment.
The house seemed crouched,
ceilings low and cowering;
a living-space quashed by a heavy hand
rooms sheltering from the weight of imminent
upheaval.
I paused for the searing glare of lightning
yet a deepening gloom
sparked no ignition nor flash;
only a pressing portent of menace.
Then as rapid as the booming
onslaught arrived
the heavens broke open,
gravity expelled a lighter breath
to rise ballooning into an airy light.
All who huddled beneath that cacophony
sighed now in shamed relief
a prayer unspoken upon their lips.
I did not leave my dwelling that day
until my timid tabby cat
bravely led the way.
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