To be laser like..

limes explode in my firing line

Steeped in myth around death

Weapons moves behind cloaks

But lightning eyes penetrate it

Even smiles betray wild hatred

The laser is as fast as water

Time changes in new winds

Abnormal violent end robot

Crashing crayons in violence

Smashing loud within

Dirrect questions!

Please listen?
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I was told today I look 28 which is about half my age?! Weird.


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In this dry land there is no rain...

yet their are actual paintings

People reaching like rising seeds

There in Marin vastness

Signs of liquid cash spilling

And hopes come like dreams

Curious people waiting

I seem to notice a secret

Like an tomb of life

And a wave in key hole

Rocks tumbling down in maddening

Sounds

As cracks appear

Sounds
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Today is my birthday and 24 days later the death of my dad two years ago.

If living means anything to me it has to do with my research on happiness.  I firmly believe that when some degree of happiness happens most people grossly exaggerate how happy they are and lose the passionate effort that is required!
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Yellow may be a form of green.

The serious question is how colors like green and yellow effect vision as green is a color in the mind, an atom and and a ray of light.   If some people suffer unreality anxiety than green and perhaps yellow may help.
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The issue surrounds the more ethereal nature of black, white, blue, red!

Plants are an example of yellow and green, but is that really worth noting?
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In my quest to find myself I discovered a big ball of lint and proclaimed:

I find lint therefore I am!

Then I bounced into a cloud!

Feeling fluffy and alive!

Embracing the vacuum of space!

Falling through space!

And into my room!

Only to discover a refrigerator!

And I was hungry!

But so was the Aligator!!  
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As an American man I am here to serve and work on my tan!


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Again why poetry?!

When a child reads a good poem they get very enthusiastic and gleeful.  Adults will head to the dull part of the poetry section hidden like a badge of shame at the back of the book store or library.

So what does the future hold?  Does poetry matter?  Does Bob Dylan matter?  Do poets really want change?  I mean you!  I mean everyone!  I  am an ardent fan of poetry and think it deserves much more..I want you to listen to this message and do something.
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All my love to you..

A perfect Meety Christmas!

May Santa bless you

With futuristic toy

For joys

And to inflict pain

Still the season of love

Not cyber stalking

So merry merry Christmas

My narcistist darlings!?
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It seems I am beginning a my LITTLE PONY ADVENTURE MOMENT THIS DAY!

Not again!
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Setting: Inside a dark, echoing bathroom plumbing line, right before a major flushing event.Urine: (Splashing aggressively against the ceramic walls) Look at you, slacking off as usual! I’m in and out of here six times a day, keeping this body filtered and clean. You show up once—maybe twice if the human had a fiber bar—and expect a standing ovation. You're slow, you're heavy, and you take forever to get ready!Poop: (Thudding heavily into the water, sending up a massive splash) Slow? It’s called craftsmanship, you watery amateur! You’re just 95% water and a little bit of leftover urea. You require zero effort. I am the grand finale of a 24-hour digestive masterpiece! I represent the steak, the potatoes, the complex carbohydrates! I have structure. I have presence.Urine: Presence? You mean odor! You completely ruin the atmosphere the second you walk into the room. People have to light matches and turn on exhaust fans just to survive your presence. When I arrive, it’s a quick, polite zip and a wash of the hands. I am civilized.Poop: Oh, don't act so pure. You turn bright neon yellow if the human takes a single multivitamin! And let's talk about urgency—you make the human panic and run like a maniac just because a movie ran over two hours. I have discipline. I give a polite, rumbling warning hours in advance.Urine: (Steaming slightly) I am the frontline defense of the kidneys! Without me, the system shuts down from toxic buildup in days. You're just the stuff the body couldn't even use. You're literally the leftovers!Poop: Leftovers? I am the ultimate metric of gut health! Doctors study my shape, my color, and my consistency on a chart like it's fine art. No one is out here making a "Bristol Stool Chart" for your boring splash patterns.The Toilet Handle: (CLANK)Urine: (Swirling rapidly in circles) Uh oh. Here comes the swirl!Poop: (Sinking into the vortex) See you in the septic tank, water-boy!