And flap burning pain
It overcomes the masses
To be numb again
And flap burning pain
It overcomes the masses
To be numb again
To be numb again
open the light hole
may be the darkness leave my soul
darkness leave my soul
the oil of blessing in it
make a puff pastry
se non e vero, e molto ben'trovato
make a puff pastry
with butter, milk, flour and yeast
Food for the soul, yes?
"Man, of all the animals, is probably the only one to regard himself as a great delicacy".
Jacques Yves Cousteau
Location: Turks and Caicos Islands,2003
food for the soul yes
with the early morning dawn
yesterday is past
Yesterday is past,
Tomorrow has not yet come,
Today is our time!
I try and just kick it but what can I do.
We've all got our junk, and my junk is you.
-Steven Slater, Spring Awakening
Today is our time!
let us break bread together --
and catch up on news.
Our task must be to free ourselves by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature and its beauty
~Albert Einstein
and catch up on news...
Lead story: People switching
places with their pets.
Places with their pets
What if we were ruled by them?
A sight it would be!
a sight it would be
if the massless photon swarm
ever made it here
se non e vero, e molto ben'trovato
ever made it here
struggling with my feeble pen
'gain to pen a thought.
.
...the smell of flowers through metal labyrinths.
gain to pen a thought
to lose a mind to shadow
infinite regre(t)ss
se non e vero, e molto ben'trovato
infinite regrets
infinitesimal joys
ad infinitum
.
...the smell of flowers through metal labyrinths.
ad infinitum—
those who mess with other's poetry—
change to suit themselves...
Some of us laugh
Some of us cry
Some of us smoke
Some of us lie
But it's all just the way
that we cope with our lives...
change to suit themselves
the portraits remain unmasked,
sways among the dead..
Greetings and hugs, my dear Uncle Pen!
I miss haiku, I am sorry everyone, I am getting quite rusty
Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions!
the whole boatload of sensitive!
— Allen Ginsberg, Howl II.
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