Best reckoning

Most men could be wrong on the first guess,
Sometimes, not all the times.
I guess, or hope, you know, that
This bit is becoming a portal, a
Backdoor to the city…

Knowing when to look and when to listen,
Children were taught that when I was young.
Are they still?
Suppose so.
Stop, Look and Listen
Duck and cover
Don’t let Dad put pennies behind the fuses _
That was a neat trick,
Learning to do wrong things that work and
Spark fires and set off bombs.
“Kids knew that kinda stuff when I’as one,
I Swanee”, as Mrs Cordelia Webb oft said
Instead of swearing.

Don’t Be a litter bug
March for dimes for UNICEF
Under God is where this nation hides,
Mr. Eisenhauer sagt
Wee Feel Stew Feel
Stop. No codes. No hidden, dark grown-weak lamps.
We are too close.
Babel events increasing,
Chaotic Kee Ho Tick,
Kokopelli tricks, stirring
Every thing years in every direction

So, settle.
Punctuation, line-feed,
New pages, chapters, books –whatever,
Mundanity before insanity.
Hell is full of followers of good intentionally,
The path to Hell, I meant to say–
Say what you mean in writing
So the people with eyes may read
And be converted,

Beauty for beast, be our guess.
Century, maybe more, prolly more, axially.
Body takes a while t’osify like that in this mire.
_______

There is no control outside your understanding
At this point, shutting the book wouldn’t wont won’t don’t
Change a thing. And that’s no a bad thing.
A cuppa vini fino pinot noir
_____

What if you and I were conversing and our very good friend,
Jesus, walked up behind us and said, “hey’ or ‘hi”

First I ever read some one say hey instead
Of hi was that scout girl that killed the mockin’bird
For stealin’ Bo Did’s diamond ring. That was, 1964.
Twenty years until 1984, and sooner
If the commies win in Viet Nam. Give a damn.

Jokin’ guys. What’s ah happening?

He askin you
Ain’t He axin you

Too, please. All who are reading my words right now
How do you feel about
Enduring eternity in a place filled
With losers who got there by Grace?

Lot’s of laughing in for ever after.
Must be a reason, eh?
Cain’t be ticklin’, that much ticklin’s sho’ Be-en torture, by now.

Joy.
I think that is the reason
For all the laughter in for ever.

And what weapon did you think
To be prosperous against us? We’re thankin’
Sum yammerin’ ruth could steal m’joy?

katzenjammer (n.) Look up katzenjammer at Dictionary.com1821, in a German context, “a hangover,” American English colloquial, from German Katzenjammer “hangover” (18c.), also figuratively, in colloquial use, “remorse of conscience, vow to mend one’s ways,” literally “wailing of cats, misery of cats,” from katzen, comb. form of katze “cat” (see cat (n.)) + jammer “distress, wailing” (see yammer (v.)).

The katzenjammer kids were in the funny papers in my grand father’s prime the 1930’s and 1940’s, probably in his youth as well, I ll check for us…

He always said he would see me in the funny papers.

Have you not read
“the joy of YHWH is your/our strength?”
We laughin’. Bro, We be laughin’,

but not like at hell
Kinda like with hell

sup’witchew?

Same Oh yes dear
day to day to more oh for ever more.
Come, and see.
_______

Look, Hotel California billboard
Across from the hostess cupcake
Mission on Fourth Street.
I must’a’ been in L.A.
Fall o’ ’76
Hotel California
22 weeks on Billboard Charts May 77,
So, don’t we agree
Hotel California was hyped for release
In time for the giving of gifts
In remembrance of the Bringer of the Promised Yes
I
Had to be in Arkansas by Christmas, ’76.
That’s reality. In a clam’s shell plus
One grain of silicon
To build a pearl around the pain.
_______
Decades are days at my age
And I find that beauty full.
Fullness is my focus now, fullness of days,
Fullness of years.

Eternal is all we have, to start with,
When thinking about mortality modalities.
Be or not be forever where ever but

What if, I can imagine a universe
Where all of adam’s seed save noah
Has been genetically modified
The old fashioned way in a rut
Dug by wheels within wheels within wheels
Forever grinding through the mire

Screwin’ around with Nephilm, King Jim’s “Sons of God,”
Mighty men o’ reknown or unknown, born
Mayhap monsters as well,
Satyrs, Centaurs, Sphinx n’such.
Male and female were they born. Mustabin.

The rule of the mightier than Adam is Take.
The role of the meek son of Lamech is Live.

Right use of time, cousins, YHWH
Saves all within these walls.
Help us.
What ya payin’, Noe boy?
Pearls’ o’great price? Droppin’ from the sky? Ain’t that nice?
Love a pearl in me ear better’nbeans.
Wadya do for a cuppa m’ wine?

Tubal-cain’s sister’s niece sallied forth and said,
” I’ll help sir, fer yer first born son me to wed When alls’said to be done’s done.”
“And said, so it is, I say” said Noah with a grin.

Not so, I say, here’s how it’s gotta be.
Shem’s the first born but two years
Post the doom the doom doom
Downloaded? What?, thought, Pop? What were you thinking,
Nought that ye ought?
She is mine, this mixed-up niece o’mom’s.
Shem’s sweet on so and so, your father’s daughter’s daughter
Jay frets for Jubal’s youngest and darkest
I, Ham, am without a wife, alone.

She is mine, this niece o’mom’s, so fine

Tubal-cain’s sister’s niece sallied forth once more,
“Fine. Yer last born son, and I’ll split yer timber
With my great grandaddy’s ax.
And if it really rains, room inside. Swear.

Post diluvial fluvial confusion we all wake
Lost. Take hope. What once was twisted and shattered,
Trillions o’christaline Lego shards scattered all to kingdom come,
Are joining one by one, two by two

Add Oxblood, Batshit, non-nucleonic sugar-free cellish stuff,
and the nitrogenous base of Thymic Acid
The highest parts of the dust of the earth
Resequenced, like magic. Magic being what magi know.
The original form
On earth as it is in for ever. But

It’s complicated. Same ol’ same ol’
Who knows what you don’t? What’s that, you know?
Prayin’, youthin?

Everything is new,
If there are things of evil I once knew
Still lurking in the dark
I know now the how
And the why and I am
Not scared nor scarred inside.

May I walk beside you?
Am, he, yes, yes
Abijah, that’s my name.
What’s yours?
Ha shem, the same, Yahweh is my father.

Passed that test, did we not?