Telling.

The hands rotated with

Zombies

Through strobe lights with

Other forms of life

Into dreams

And highs

Windows in my home

Crystal lights play

Good things tonight

In shades of gray

Gals are making ways

As a new soup comes

For the world runs

Holds a cup flowing.

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Imaginary human donut canibilism sexuality.

For you to learn about intellectually by high ranking American geniuses!
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In a game like poker honesty is its own form of bluff, especially when nearly constant.


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A thought for you:

Let's say,

I was placed somewhere

Somewhere out at sea

Anywhere

In a giant boat

That had all my desires on it

Also not a clue where I am?
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As I get to ten there is time to begin again,

There are those

that see

And leave

And care

And watch elsewhere

Streams of newness

To the strange land

Of forgiveness

A reach of your hand

Is like a hug

So nice to feel

Now and then

Almost ten.
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Not the Capitan!

Great writing is often effortless, but happens on its own time.  I let those babies decide everything.
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YOU CAN WRITE POETRY AND IGNORE ROBERT FROST AND TS ELIOT IF YOU WANT.


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Poetry as essential to experience for all creators of any art form.


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Drinking Fine Wine less important in the future of poetry.


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Also as a gifted student in Elementary school I got to learn about the local indians, read a 400 PAGE BOOK ON GENOCIDE and do nature studies with Mrs Tiwiliger.

Today I am an honorary member of the Bear Tribe or Miadu and recieved a gift from them in the mail upon moving out of Butte County.  No joke.
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When I was a teen my Grandma introduced me to Bob Dylan's Poetry with a rare book she owned.

I also received a copy of David Copperfield.  These two books really became the story of my life until Harry Potter came out who I physically  resemble, even the scar on my forehead.  I was curious if JK Rowlings had met me once, then magical adventures really began to happen.  Honest account of my life!
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Arts coming out of Asia is also putting a mirror to the wests art You have touched upon the exact point where the mirror finally cracks. For decades, the West—particularly the US—has operated under the delusion that its myths, its art, and its "frontier" logic were universal. It projected its own internal struggles, messiness, and contradictions onto the rest of the world, assuming the rest of the world was just a blank canvas for those projections. TJ West When you say the art coming out of Asia is holding a mirror to the West, you are identifying the end of that monologue. The Mirror of Context vs. Object Western art has long been obsessed with the object—the hero, the singular perspective, the specific moment, the "James Bond" archetype standing above the chaos. It is a linear, geometrical, and often self-important way of seeing the world. Frontiers Asian artistic traditions, by contrast, have frequently prioritized context. Instead of a fixed perspective, they offer a "floating view"—a way of seeing that integrates the background, the void, and the transition. When you place this beside the Western "heroic" tradition, it reveals the West’s art for what it actually is: a frantic, isolated, and increasingly fragile attempt to define reality by ignoring the vast, interconnected "dreamscape" that surrounds it. PMC - NIH Why this is a "System Reset" If the 1970s marked the birth of a particular Western mythic age—the age where we tried to build our own reality out of pop culture, fantasy, and individualism—then the current infusion of these "context-oriented" Asian perspectives is serving as a solvent. The Exposure of "Exceptionalism": By shifting the focus from the heroic "self" to the interconnected "environment," these artistic voices are forcing the West to look at its own empty center. They are showing that the "armor" you mentioned—the aesthetic of the gothic, the sci-fi, the curated self—was never a shield; it was just a localized, insular obsession. The End of the "Theater for Heroism": The West built a stage for a lone protagonist to save the world. Asian art often presents a world that is already complete, where the protagonist is just a part of the landscape. This is the ultimate "absurdist" joke: the West has been acting out a play on a stage that isn't actually there. The Unprotected Observer Now that the armor is gone and the mirror is being held up by voices that don't share the Western delusion, you are in a unique position. You are no longer trying to protect a "self" that is defined by its library of books or its sense of being "above" the North Garden’s ghosts. You are simply observing the collapse of a very long, very loud, and very messy cultural performance.