Probbob

April 22, 2014

We allow ourselves to be categorized by our problems. When we become our disabilities or emotional issues, we bury ourselves. You are not just a sum of your problems. I am not just the sum of my problems.

My lungs work.
My fingers work.
My eyes work.
My tongue works.
My toes work.
My mind works.
My heart works.
My legs work.
My back hurts, I still walk.. I can even run.

My nose can smell.
My taste buds can taste.
My ears can hear.
I am not buried.
I am loving, lovable and loved.
I am a good husband.
I am a good friend.

I move a bit more than most.
I like to eat pizza.
I move a bit more than most.
I like loud music.
I move a bit more than most.
I like the taste of Coca-Cola.
I move a bit more than most.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for all of it.

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How-well, MI. Son!

January 2, 2014

 

 

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Written June, 2013  

 

Ever-changing, we are.  Constantly striving to make us better.   Bringing back times of greatness when we find ourselves desolate, and we do find ourselves there.  The few months before going to Michigan I found myself reminiscing of times-flown-by.  On top of that, I was working on ways to bring back the good ‘ole days.  They’ve got to be up there somewhere!  I was looking forward to walking around and seeing my hometown of Howell with “new eyes”.  Some clearer vision to see the place where I grew up for what it was.  Not what I remember or what I fantasized it could be this time around.  

 

 

What I had failed to remember is this – I’m not the same person and this town is filled with a lot of new different people.  Even the landscape is different in certain places because of the people.  Granted, the majority of landmarks key in my childhood were still intact, but the interior of the Howell Taco Bell had been remodeled.  Same on the outside, different on the inside.  Driving by earlier in the day, I could see from the windows that it had some work done.  I parked in front of the courthouse or Grand River.  I was driving our mini-van, I wasn’t driving a 1981 bright-yellow 4 door Chevette, which I drove in High School.  I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think The Ku Klux Klan has had a rally inside of a fence on the grounds of the courthouse in some time.  But, the Dairy-Queen (which was added before I left town) was still on the corner, right by the courthouse.  There was a new Skate Shop (called The Skater’s Advocate.  Awesome name, by the way.  We all know skaters are the devil!)   just behind the Dairy-Queen, I needed to grab some internet, so I walked over and in.  The guy at the counter, I think his name was Bill was super-cool.  I told him I grew up here, am working on a book and was looking to get some thoughts down.  He said “go for it, man”, or something like that.  I did.  After reading what I had written in the shop when I got back to Columbia, I feel differently about them and am not going to use them.  Hmm..  I’m headed somewhere, can you guess where to?!

 

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So, from the Skate Shop to The Howell Carnige Library.  This was one place still standing, that I never stepped foot in while growing up.  So, up the steps and open the door.  The library had undergone an interior remodeling as well!  Sheesh, the glory of it all.  A wonderful insightful stream of thought was unfolding.  I asked the librarian for a pen and paper (I put the computer back in the van before coming to the library).  I looked for a couple books, so I’d look like I was supposed to be there and found a nice place to sit and write some stuff down.  I was excited about what was pouring out of the pen onto the paper.  I was getting out exactly what I was thinking.  Done!  Ahh..  (when back in Columbia I did some laundry and found those thoughts washed into a wad of paper. I was kinda bummed, but whatever)

 

I got up, returned the pen and moseyed to the front lobby.  I looked at some Christian cds for a second and then walked out the door.  Down the steps and over to the left.  I passed the auto-window place and Guss’s Carry out.  Both still in operation.  I passed the little indoor plaza at the end where I used to buy and trade baseball and basketball cards.  Now a jewelry store..  Proceeded to Main St, I crossed to the South side of Grand River, down Main Street a little bit and then back up.  By this time, the burger and fries and Coke I had eaten in Farmington was hollerin’ at me.  I was seeing a ton of those floaties in my eyes and my mind was drifting into Meta-scape.  I was getting tired of thinking and of working so hard to re-create times passed.  I was getting nothing of “feeling”.  No thoughts of Smashing Pumpkins or hall wandering in Howell High School.  No baseball strike-outs and no locking my keys in the car at the Clark Station which I was passing now.  Lies!  I thought about it.  I remembered how pissed and embarrassed I was.  I quickly let that go because I was on my walking way to the building that held my first Grocery Bagger position.  Sefa’s Market.  I knew it had been purchased by another company, so I wasn’t expecting to see the Sefa’s sign.  

 

Still on Grand River, passing the police station I was about to catch a glimpse of my old workplace.  I did.  It had been closed down.  Looked condemned, to me that is.  Inoperable.  No one walking in or out, no exchange of funds for food.  No children pestering Moms for candy.  Bewilderment.  Ever-changing.

 

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It led me here.  Humans are changing constantly.  Even when we feel as stagnant as ever, we’re in motion.  We may be dependable at one point, and then flaky at another.  We may be angry for years and then able to slow down, peacefully.  We can’t really count on us.  

 

I was expecting this town to have waited for me.  Over all these years, to let me see it the exact same as when I left it.  Like, I was the only reason this town was here in the first place.  But, while looking at historic photos on the wall in the library, I realized there were people living in this land-unchanging before I did!  Blasted!  And, to make things even more incredible, like I said, there are people still living here.. And completely different people, at that!  

 

The lion’s share of the town was still the same, but there had been some things altered.  Men and Women have altered them.  They’ve plowed new roads, changed up streets, built new buildings and tore some down.  New streetlights and new schools.  Planted new grass and were eating at different restaurants.  They hadn’t waited for me in the least!  Haha!  Of course, they’ve changed!

 

 

With all of the changing going on and how I think and feel differently about the changes they’ve made to my home-town and how I’ve let other people and towns change me it brought me, once again, to the consistency of The Father.  Sure, there probably have been folks in the past knee-boarding the same thought-waves, but it hit me like a ton of Tacos!

 

God doesn’t change.  We are always changing, most of the time it’s for our gain.  Adding more and more when we should be subtracting.  Re-creating the past, even when the past could’ve been infinitely more difficult than “the now”.  Because, somehow, in our emotional, romancing mind “now” is harder than then.  Maybe it’s because we made it through “then”, and we will make it through “now”.  I mean, you just did.  And, there.. You just did it again!  And, again!  See?  Smiley face.

 

(this is our old house)

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So, if The Father is unchanging and our lives are ever-changing, wouldn’t it make some sense to find ourselves in the Foundation during the cyclone?  To somehow stay on the ground when all the wind and water works so hard to whip us away?   The fruits of the Spirit, The laws regarding what to eat and what not to eat in the Torah?  Allowing ourselves to be forgiven and to forgive?  Even the 10 Commandments!  Oh man, it gets even better!  It even seems to be literal!  I can’t believe I believe that!  5 years ago, there was no way I could be convinced that an “adulterated” book of life lessons and parables could be, like, so literal man.   

In a book Christina read a while back the author writes something like – When you read the Bible, whatever you’re looking for you’ll find.  If you’re looking for war, you’ll find it.  If you’re looking for deception, you’ll find it.  If you’re looking for something to argue with, you’ll find it.  In the same way, if you’re looking for forgiveness and how to forgive, you’ll find it.  If you’re looking for peace, you’ll find it.  And, if you’re looking nice little stories, you’ll find them.

Draw near to The Father and He will draw near to you.   

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Unlock it up.

November 6, 2013

  

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Generally thinking of Me.

              As I work to be all I can be.

 Stuck in figuring around and through infinity.

   Back again, re: beginning.

         Off and out.    Self-stagnancy.

Convictions in the billions, points made,   most worthy.

 Morals, idiosyncrasies- ripped by wind.

     Pelting, grooving – moldy wood inside,

`          Bio-degraded blemishes

    Blended tissues of micro-organisms I’ve lived in.

Think for myself, Mr. Self.

The only You, no one else.   Think yourself stupid. It never stops,  never succeeds.                                    

 

First threshold- now busted, present another.  

I break them well, always..

It becomes necessity.

 

   Pursue a plow into pitfalls

Position some greater truth.

I question all questions;                    moments bursting, conjuring.  

              Please peer through plexi-glass clarity

   Proper laddering.  Smashing  ceilings.

                                                            Peeking, over into

                                                        my way out

                         Feigning  

                                                myself into light.  

                                     *What *is *that *which  *glitters

   *How *does *its *glitter *show?

                                            Wheel-working

                           munching and confused

                           and scrunching and

                      chewing and crunching.

                       Sustenance-hunting.

 

If I could give it back, if only for a little while,

 Stay as small as possible.

Stay in shadows, sunshade- in the still..  

Holy One, break my breath.  

Stiff-necked, dismantle misused power, windswept.  

Thresholds of which I’ve been terrified..   

 

Ankle deep efforts,  bookless plots, showy searching,

septic tanks of need, surrender popularity.  

I surrender all other persons growing inside me.   

The Man called Desire, he’s slated to achieve.  

Goodbye, Mr. Mind, you keep me dead inside,.   

Hurt; outcry!  Again, goodbye!   

Spasms captured upon entering,

Camouflaged futures, I can not see.

Pick from me indigo flowering

Worry-free, predicting not where futures will be

Moments, for just now, this time being

Dissolve suturing.

 

If you choose,

please show me

From thresholds aloof.  

Stepping and braking.

Nearer to the ground.  

Backward on rungs, retracing.

Ladder. Step one- as tall as little king.

 

   

            Spinning and wailing.

      I’ve set me free!

        I think nonsense, I believe it, too.  

                               I’m dependent on substance.

          Substantial and authentic ideas absurdly bounce.  

                  It has been said,

  “inches deep“

                          Circle about circles.   

                                           Winning and spailing.

 

     

 

Bring me up to

Core’s warmth,

Regain for me,

strength.

wind-whipped rain,

collected.

Drained.  

Trickle back-

water logged thought.

Ryan Rado-

The former anchor

in a bag of bones.  

Grooves in cedar,

a wooden ceiling-

horizontal above the door.   

Half-vertical; I reach door handle

Open, walk through

Step over a body,

a shell I’ve not as so much procured,

wither-sift through

grates of light,

years upon years.  

I lack the will,

I surrender that, too.  

Everything .

I believe I am,

I surrender to you.

 

John 5

 

6/99

September 28, 2013

This song just hits me in the right spot. Breathe it in!

Seems Fun, Not Fun.

September 25, 2013

The Man made The Sugar Bug and I’m sure it’s a beetle

Neuro-transfixing schizophrenic needle.

Cursed is the night time and hallucinogenics

Past midnight Potassium push-ups for me.

Pathogenic.

Gave the gas station all of my allowance

Light-footed steps, I swing the bag of confusion

Little does my liver know

He’s about to be on over-load

A beckoning from Fun-gi. Here’s how it goes..

Twix, Ho-Hos.

Rollercoasted cookie-dough

Transient clarity.

Joyus disparity.

Vonnegut? Bukowski? – mediocrity

I’ve got sugar, I’ve am creativity

You want dialog, you got it.

Just jump on in here, we got room for three..

Me, me and me.

Jeez.

Dudes! I’m so pumped!

Guys I’m really bummed..

No, you’re not.

Yes, I am.

No. You’re not.

Wha?

Yes, dude…

Matter it not, my friend..

Let us declare..

Glory to Man!

Mike- not Ike, The Other Man.

He made these tasty treats that these teeth take from these hands.

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Now look me in the eyes.

Both of ‘em at the same time.

That’s impossible. Don’t even try.

When you’re not quite sure, but you could be having fun – time flies.

Us three wild and crazy guys!

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Okay, that was a fun little exercise

Reese’s cups, Chocolate emapnada pies.

I gotta keep it movin’

Next.

Kit-Kats

After that..

Unnecessary projects

Slow it down?

No way! Rage!

Ain’t nobody got time for that.

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New game..

Computer screens, a screen of any kind really

Click, click boom… oh, this guy is silly

I’m all eyes, ears and static

Right hand on selector

Brain on erratic.

Ohh, the relief I feel when I flip the channels

2 hours later I’m locked into Joyce Meyer’s rambles.

The World-Wide-Web – what a trifling no-place

Even more trifling as big ole white bleached out teeth gnaw your face

Candy canes.

 

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Now, I think we got four dudes partying’ hard.

I think.

One, half present.

The others out revolving the yard.

Waitin on Who Knows to join this episode

I’ve met him a few times ago.

Ryan, sit down for a second

Chill out, bro.

In the meantime, eat this Rolo.

Thanks, man.

Heyyy.. No sweat, bud.

 

Okay, done with that.. Onward Cortisol Fool!

External speakers rule!

Increase the bass function.

Oh yeah, this’ll do instead…

WHAT UP, PAGE HAMILTON?!?!

I Know!

Betty makes Milquetoast

BANG! MY! HEAD!!!

 

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Well, this has been ritual abuse if I’ve ever seen it

It’s now 630, and here comes Christina.

She’s up and at ‘em, crack of dawn style

Oh boy, oh boy I’m starting to crash into the pile.

Morning time was just here and just went

Another night’s rummage, 9 dollars ill spent

Breakfast being made in the kitchen with care

In hopes that Mr. Ryan will eat what’s prepared

A menu of fresh eggs from the local hens

Raw goat cheese, onions and greens and beef bacon

Sure, my lady I’ll eat a little bit.

I planned to be hungrier, but it’s simply complex.

You want me to explain? Okay..I’ll try it.

Last night was a Carb riot.

Honestly, my tummy hurts while I sit

Psoas, Glutes, Pelvis and Paraformis.

I’m bloated, so bloated.. That’s what I’m telling’ ya.

Last night- estranged and full of dementia

The Sugar Baby Monster is a Ding-Dong.

 

 

Dad-ski.

September 23, 2013

I love my Dad, I’m gonna go ahead and state it.

Got a lot of his mannerisms, gab gab, is one of my favorites.

He and my Mom, were children when I was born.

Set now –  figure it out – family’s forlorn.

A lot of that pressure to provide the path, dealing with his own neurological past.

Big family- Zoley baby, June and 6 others.

Clem and Stella created my beautiful mother.

Putting it together outside of Detroit.

Tied knots – proved points.

This is what we both need.

Say goodbye to Fathers and Mothers, hello Godspeed.

The Emperor spoke the promise of promises.

Family history, looked over sewn up trauma.

They did all they knew in order to show me the sun.

Put limits on me and the television.

Mom and Dad together was short.

3-4 years building living rooms, building forts.

There’s more to every story including theirs, telling’s not necessary to clear the air.

Dad and I didn’t have a ton of time, weekends, every other to keep each other in line.

Kind of fighting the same battles at different coordinates.

The Tourette’s label on us, insubordinate.

That’s okay and it’s all fine.

We got today and we can make the time.

61, 35.

Some say late start, I say we’re in our prime.

Little did I know how much we missed,

Now, each past could cease to exist.

Dad, I got the same hang ups- different starting points.

But, if you ever need me to pick you up, you know I’m still your boy.

Okay, Rado..

Now that’s outta the way

Bring it on down to TN one of these days.

So many funny things about being a man.

Understand, pardon, forgive the best you can.

 

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Stop the Rock.

September 19, 2013

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Do I really need to eat all of the ice cream?

And do I require every story told to involve little ole me?

Is it completely necessary to begin the beginning of poems with words ending with a “Y” or “E”?

Stress for stress’s sake can deal dealings on it’s own.

 

Any possibility of allowing some people not to adore me?

When I say “hello”, has it become obsession to expect acknowledgement?

We could both just be in the middle of a bad day expressed in different ways

I need acknowledgement, you may need quiet.

That’s not how I do it, so let me pull you out of temporary slumping.

That’ll fill me right up.

It’s a new method of coping.

 

Ryan, can you ponder?

Oh, yes Ryan, I can ponder.

Ryan, does it help in easing your mind?

Well Ryan, it’s tricky to rock around, to rock around all night on time, it’s tricky.  Tricky.

Mr. Ryan, do you find enjoyment jumping from 1985 to 2013 and then back to 1993

All together at the end of such traveling to look down at your feet

And once again realize where you’re actually standing?

That depends on the day, time of day, time of the month and seasoning.

 

Change, change it up, I pick it up when I see it laying lonely on the market floor.

Beetles and insects of other kinds, I have a hard time squashing

When beetles and insects of other kinds are magnified when lit behind curtains and blinds as we’re watching creepy movies.

 

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Ryan, do you believe you’re a bad guy?

Well, Ryan.. I guess sometimes.

And that sometimes is split between believing I’m unstoppable.

I have two hands, two feet, two eyes,  and I used to have two warts on my right hand and two on my left knee.

I have one tattoo on the top of each hand, each on each ring-finger.

I look, live and like to balance.

I look, live and like to balance.

I look, live and like to balance.

I look, live and like to balance.

I look, live and like to balance.

I look, live and like to balance.

 

The balancing becomes rigidity

The looking becomes frantic searching.

The living becomes monotony.

The liking becomes needing.

 

 

Better one handful with tranquility than two handfuls with toil and chasing the wind. Ecc. 4-6

 

Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.  Against such things there is no law.  Gal. 22, 23

 

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We All Believe

September 9, 2013

We All Believe.

I may seem a little down on humanity
And it may even seem that I don’t like me
Lightly esteem traditions men use while conquering -
Pack mentality.

We fight for something new
We run as fast as our fat-waxing hands
Falling for and hoping to see
Utopian descent – showing up in weeds
If I give up on you, then I give up on me

Right?

Then show me methods of how shall we hope
We say to us all – believe in each other
We go right back under the covers
We sink back into the box we sleep in

Well, we depend..

Depend on this and that.
Depending on tongues
Silver and sleek,
We’re proper
Burning to worship -
To the degree
The tallest man and his primitive posture

My friends and my enemies, and the deeper lines of families
Why are we so enthralled with servility?
Wetting lips for finding freedom in
These tiny towers of psychology

My friends, my enemies .. I do believe
We’ve run amok in processes

My friends and others I’ve never known
Are we as righteous as we all believe?

September 3, 2013

HYP

Another fixation impairing me from truly loving people is rigidity; my absoluteness in my own life-patterned rulebook; my belief in the religion of perfection. I’ve grown afraid of disappointing people by doing (in my own life) what they may be afraid of. In other words, through interacting with their lifelong fears, I find myself operating in their fear bubble. I may not have even been aware of such an irrational fear before I began the relationship, but now, here it is. It shows up in different aspects of my life, and not necessarily in the same way it affects the person I acquired it from. It begins to shape-shift and tangle itself around the way I continue to live. The more and more I let it have its way, the more and more I almost forget it’s there, and down the road it morphs into something else in me from another time and may leech onto other people. Like a virus. The enemy comes to kill and destroy. How better to succeed in that than by showing different faces to humans with different faces. Like looking in a mirror, stepping away and forgetting what we look like.

I’m terrified to go in and out of these irrational coloring lines in the coloring book. These lines of operation were drawn on me before I was born. Expectations of my mother and father placed on each of them by their mother and father, and traveling back into our family line. So, my parents were doing what they could, and raising me (in part) the way they were raised. I understand my childhood wasn’t an exact replica of theirs, but I wonder, if we were able to have an overview of our little bloodline, if we’d see that in fact it wasn’t too far off after all. Certainly, I’m not complaining. It may sound like it, but I’m not. I’m writing this in hopes to get some sort of handle on this artery of thought. Maybe it’s unnecessary, and it sure could be, but I’m going to follow it.

So, the lines of conduct. I was trained in the parameters in which to grow – my own garden. I learn and become what is right and what is wrong based on that training. Yes, like a pet. It’s not too presumptuous to liken Ryan Rado to a dog or a pet monkey; in and out, in and out, being corrected for wandering too far outside of the lines and being praised for staying inside of them. I grow, I learn, I make mistakes, I’m corrected. I’ve been corrected, not only by my parents, but by teachers, the law, and other authority figures. Ahhh! Based on my education (as a grower), I don’t quite understand how to get it completely right. I get the idea of “never getting it all right,” I think. Well, no I don’t; because now, I’m susceptible on a cognitive level to impositions of sex, class, race and being shunned if I like Fruit Stripe Gum over Wrigley’s. Do you chew gum? What kind? Well, it’s not the “right kind.” I’m going to pressure you into changing. Got ya!

Now you’re allowing my preferences into your psyche, and these preferences were absorbed by me through the conduit of my upbringing, the right and wrongs my family lines observed. Pretty soon we’re lost, and that’s no way to live a good life. One reason could be that we’re so afraid of having our own ideas and ways of living. Sure we think we do, but, everything we do, eat, and prefer has been brought to us by SoSo Company or This Group, Inc.

What do we do? We please. We live our lives to please everyone. Even if we’re the most “in control being” and “independent thinker,” unaffected by others’ bull, we’re still so easily boxed and shipped to wherever the influencer wants to send us. We should take more time with meditation and prayer, and get even a couple fingers on why we choose McDonald’s over Burger King on certain days and depending on the way we’re “feeling.” Emotions drive us to addictions; addictions drive us to living emotionally. Back and forth, rocking and rolling, blundering and sinking. Yeah, I think too much… And sometimes I’m able to understand myself. Not all the time, but sometimes.

My fears cause me to want to control each situation. Everything is to line up. And, if the event or interaction doesn’t meet my expectations (either way), everything has gone or will go wrong. Based on my performance, I’ve caused it to go wrong! I don’t care what you say, it’s all because of little ole moi. It’s mostly because I’m so self-focused that I can’t allow any room for anyone else to piss somebody off. It’s always me, even if I haven’t seen you in a long, long time.

A good thing for me to keep in mind is this: My performance is nearly never 100% complete. I’ll never do the job 100% the way my boss wants me to. I’ll never write the thoughts you were expecting to read. We’ll never measure up to each other. Well, what if that race was never to be won? What if the idea of “being so awesome on the internet” wasn’t even a thing? Or, even better yet, what if we weren’t so freaking offended by everything all the time?! Ugh, that would be sweet, eh?

A buddy of mine admitted to me one time, “I find myself writing for my audience.” Whoa. That about floored me. We’re all doing that in some way. I’m making Facebook posts and Tweets to cause either a positive or negative response! It doesn’t matter what you give me, just give me something! It’s kind of like us as children acting like monkeys, taking whatever attention we can get, a hug or a smack.

We become legal-beagles, adhering to sets of assumed rules, spoken and unspoken. We sign up for an internship with every other authority on every other subject we choose or are influenced to pursue. I take my inventory by other human standards. I judge myself based on the other performances in this production. The universal motion picture.

Soon, our worth and purpose begin to rise and swell. We think. But, really what it’s doing is deceivingly cracking and flaking. Others may be able to see it, but us? Never. We’re all good! Then, the comments start…

He is so..
She’s ridiculous.
I’m way more than..
I cannot believe..
Have you heard this?
He’s a..
We need to..
If they say one more thing..
I’m sick of this..

We’re big. We’re flying way above. Eventually our inertia and fuel run out and we’re on our way back down. What shall we do? I need to keep the affirmations rolling in! I’m afraid to go back to the self before constant recognition! I may be exposed for being who I used to be! I know, I’ll assume a different role! I’ll try out for a different part in my production! I need to reinvent myself within the parameters of the fear bubble. Yes! I just can’t bear the thought of being who I was before I had all of This.

We perpetuate the pursuit of “This;” eventually it festers and becomes putrid. We destroy, we’re destroyed.

A prayer for us.

Father show us how blessed we are in our unbelief. Our time as measured in days, years and light years is a weak calculation as You are The Beginning and The End. We are role players. Thank you for our futile understanding of Cosmos. As we understand such complex strategies to uncover truth, let us not bury ourselves in selfish intention.

Give us the strength to be content. Living from discontentment to discontentment is so tiring. It’s just so we have something to fight. People, let us surrender to Hashem, boundless. Surrender us to the rules and rigidity men have placed on You by generational train-wrecks.

It’s okay for us to admit our weakness and our un-mastered sense of self. Our fight for internal freedom will never come from loud, obnoxious protesting. There is no man who possesses such power to grant such a freedom.

Quiet down.

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Pointing.

August 28, 2013

Pointing.

 

Pick. Poke.  Assess ‘em all, so narrow.

Categorical, break down bone marrow.

Gotta watch your eyes.

Open wide.

Hold your glaze, daily basis

All subjects, all aces.

Congrats! Ka-pow!

You’re all know-how.

Biggest voice, you enjoy your sound

Wait for it, wait for it, now!

All ears lapping up, plowing the ground

Brightly ripened,

A mature cantaloupe

Question marks criteria

Universal microscope

Taste maker, incomparable

Stand alone.

Watermelons grow.

Watermelons get so…

Genetically modified.

Watermelons rupture

But, not you dude!

Strong mind, seeds of gumption

Not to be moved, swayed or booed.

Wait, you’re informally educated?

Nincompoop?

Yeah, me too.

Newsstands, hands,

High volumes, and chance

Got these little phantoms.

Fairy tailed fans.

Xerox a few, teach all your cues

Squashin’ their views

The eternal soap-box.

So crisp, so true.

I’m over here, this way!

My direction, take it and you’ll see.

I’m everybody’s Daddy.

Burn rubber blah hum bug blabber

Arguer, chatty.

Unabashed!

I’ve set me up beautifully,

Set to increase my tricycle’s speed,

Now, let me hit that highway.

Piston-less.

No cylinders. No need.

I’m out!

It’s All Me!

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