in the true universe

in the true universe no one fights

and bed bugs don’t bite

in the true universe you don’t need sin

for the moon can be held in the palm of your hand

that’s right! no guts no glory no nonsense whatsoever

in the true universe you have all the time you need

and can carry it with you in a small red bag

taking out just enough to make ends meet

in the true universe imagination rules

mountains sigh and waterfalls whisper

so much left to do

only a fool would choose to linger

chin up! my friend!

the laws of nature get broken every day

in the truest of the true

universes

so now it’s 66

sitting here upon my high perch

gazing through the haze of a world ablaze

astonished and bored at the same time

so now it’s 66

years upon years have piled up

haphazardly without design

there are treasures out there somewhere

if only i knew where to dig

it’s as if i have some other self

dressed in the finest suit

whispering in my ear

awake awake!

the day has just begun

and so…..66 it is

the number of a man perplexed

a change is needed

i love it up here atop the mountain

the air may be thin but look at that view!

nevertheless…sometimes

a change is needed

the wind has grown harsh

and fears abound

high atop this mountain

better to descend into the depths

joining the restless crowd of seekers

for whom any port is good in a storm

when the same is the same is the same

a change

a change without arrows

is needed

the rocket’s red glare

it can be hard to make out

with the rocket’s red glare

and all the rest of it

but there are actual wars

being carefully prepared

and the next booms we hear

may be bombs instead of fireworks

war can be beautiful to behold

the flares so bright and colorful

the clashing of mighty armies and navies

and the blue angels battle the red

but the carnage is real and cannot be reset

for another round of play

fantabulous

fantabulous will be the day

when all rules are suspended

and love is the only law

fantabulous will be the way

we walk and talk and live

rejoicing in what makes us

what creates us

a never ending bursting apart

at the seams

what a fantabulous scene!

rejoice

rejoice in the preparation

rejoice in the completion

rejoice in the building

rejoice in the demolition

rejoice in life and rejoice in death

for it is but a wheel within a wheel

rejoice in our ignorance

rejoice in our knowledge

rejoice that we even exist

there is something far greater

than our hopes and our fears

we are but children

taking our first steps

rejoice!

it just is

it isn’t better

it isn’t worse

it isn’t worrying me

it isn’t not worrying me

it just is

no comments needed

no poem required

lookit!

lookit! i’m swinging!

lookit! Mom! lookit!

lookit! I’m climbing!

Daddy! Lookit!! LOOKIT!!

all our lives spent with nobody

lookiting

all our exploits

all our tricks

un noticed

lookit! I’m crying!

lookit! nobody loves me!

ah no, self pity won’t do

self pity never turns a head

no lookit for you

a fruitful endeavor

i would like our relationship

to be a fruitful endeavor

with the juice running down

both our chins

a bond bursting from it’s boundaries

gushing forth till we are in it to our knees

fruitful for our seeds

giving life to our needs

fruitful in a way that cannot be contained

by the dry analytical models of our brains

be fruitful and multiply

giving forth worlds upon worlds upon worlds

as the juice runs down our legs

a message in a bottle

my poem is like

a message in a bottle

tossed out upon a stormy sea

maybe someone someday

will find my message

and say

so much garbage in the sea these days