No.25 T*R*re-member M*e

Another Night

Magical birth of my holy night.
I seek the light from under the stairs.
Just where_the under worn hats are borne.
Live at the mystery theater. Shorts.

Bending over at the end of the table_ stillness arrives.
I live here in the mind of the boy___ in question.
I love this young man.
He has potential, as a  plenipotentiary.

An actual partition of moments is occurring.
There is no question, I am having a moment of real vision.
I like the unlikely continuance of what I only half expected.
No broken pieces…only outstanding breaths to match…
My exclusive rights to these special envelopes of now.

What can I say? What am I working for?
Obvious answers would be__the self absorbtion of lens.
Eyesight is the serial line of time given to mission space.
Orders of business resume upon the latest request.

Unusual eyes seeking light action_ Corresponding to movement.
Synchronizing my catch to the vessels sway of two and four.
Beats per minute. A second passed in earnest enterprise.
I am ignoring this night, because of things that disrupt. Point!

I have no reason to think_ I am in the well with the fish.
My line is slightly askew. I want to reach the other side.
Beneath the waves there is more.
I am familiar with my place in this sea of sights.

Like a whale I cruise deep and slow.
Rotating around a point of amber darkening.
I know my weight is weighing in.
Values of the great matters burst forth.

Ruling the chances to find the pathway of description.
The sunlight lies under the skin.
My enterprise __ my night of a thousand winds.
Once more a door opens, and cruises out into perpetuity.

Light ladders weigh at the center of definitions edge.
Singular thoughts come in fractions of suspension.
I am a little like my life. Depends!
I want that to mean more, even if noone can see the sighs.

One Day!
Light and dark. Right or wrong.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Right thought, right action.
Changes everything.
On the the spot. Perfect rhyming time.

If there isn’t a poet in the house.
Only a pure center being, Who is__
Not quite as pure, as he would have you believe.
I come to the supulchur to be purified. Light!

Weightless…
God’s indulgence is the rendering of passage,
and unperfected right taken tries.
I have been here _the whole time trying to blend and re-call.
Everything that lies ahead_ Is beyond my command.

I lay at the door reeling in the center of that spot under the stairs.
Imaginations end_ has only beginnings of  ‘therefore’.
With love I begin over, and try to remember_
why I think my chances are taken_
To be the right way.

I allow myself to think, therefore…I follow my lead.
I think I will commend my effort to a real anxious desire.
To find the ‘Wherefore art thou?’ A personality, a trend.
A message free reason to exist in this cyber factory of words.

Nothing can dissuade my personal blend of self satisfaction.
The audacity of breathing chances in the night.
I am a song sung enterprise. I am not the music or words.
I am a language I learn each day, because I am my voice.

It says, ” These are  words. These are the meanings of saying things.”
Differently, as in the order of new chains.
Laying about in the raining mist of a new night.
I ruggedly, softly command the titling floor of my escape.

I lift the page_ to lower the door.
Endings are many, and they will not come undone.
I did not try the other way. Guaranteed satisfaction.
I don’t know what I am doing this for. Beyond!

Question? If you are still in my room under the stairs.
You know more than I will acknowledge.
I admire your curiousity. You have been here before.
That is what I love about the night.

When a personal night ends and preparations are made.
Sleep…, rest is or is not a choice, but eventually it descends.
We begin again, and find our rebirth in the deepest earth of night.
The lighting of the streets we pass_moving forth_
are the difference in tomorrow’s ends.

Stillness is what I will be looking for.
This ends tonight_on my time.
My run of time is blending forward into_
Pleasing thoughts of dependibility.

Listen, I’ve talked enough.
I’m done being this unusual creature of division.
As soon as I say that…
I know my chance is only this.

I will do this again and wonder why…
And I will try to render a better rendition of faith.
My practice is not a crime.
I am working on the perfection of the sublime.

My time, my ends.
I delight in being me. Again.
Childhood’s great enterprise.
The crossing of the deep dark sea.
Above the starry night.
The horizon ahead.

One hour in and I am done for.
Ta ra …nighty night… TR
Emotion:Love
Loving the giving
of Self.

2008@beeswax.call

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Sunday February 3, 2008
 Poison, Perfidy, Recourse ~*~ Uncovered Refuge_Limits Performance…a Glance __Truth Art

Radiohead Pyramid Song Live(perfect audio)_Title Escaped from YouTube Thank You (fabiocchi) channel

I have not a clue.

Bunches, Details, Disturbance.
Realization…All hell breaks out.
Rough time of no dimension.
Furthering expressions_ art. Time suspended.

Just trying to get on the page.
No hate…only flame. Surging.
Beast, Who is there?
Can’t hail a cab on my death bed.

No surprise. I am art__ for now, a little stand.
At the edge of the forest …the relief of my heart is beating.
Hard at the middle of the night __above.
Call me over….I come along for the ride.

Where is the last straw_ from my heart.
The veins of life run along the edge.
No violence…using words of heavy order. Describing!
Rage over me___Not getting my way.
Courage! You maniac. You are being too kind.

The nature of this love is the subscription_
to the very Much Evolved Human Race.
Waiting for your report. I find myself staggering.
At the edge of the cliff_ over the narrow sound.
Fly with me…I am found in a new order of things.

Glass eyes and antlers frame the bold new visage.
Manufactured substance of writing on the lamb.
Wings of watery blue light. Vespers, prayers.
Voyaging the senses, Waiting me _away.

wHAT i FELT IS NOT THAT i SHOULD.
but that i Could.
It felt like this, because _all that was here_
was something other than.
What I am.

I am a text report_waiting to happen.
How does one get to the full use of their holy brain?
My spirit _for the life of creation….
Weighs on the waiting words_just off the screen.

So we seal the disturbance of ink and light.
Papier mach’e  molding the dimensional  fusion.
Text phone tonight…Hard scrubbing atmosphere.
Wanted to blow the doors off_of fear.

Idiocy is not my fort’e. I am the principal’d architect of you.
Storing outside myself
My protection and production_ score the life
of what this all about.
It is all over the page, and it is happening now.
Incidentally, I am the ultimate arbiter of my mistakes.

Mistaken request for my truth………………..Questions?
Can blame me_ Sometimes it’s just hard to be young again.
Look how this ends…It is with a subtle nod to the dark.
It ends on a dead tone…never to be seen again.
Because I said so, I only want to ascribe to the old age remedy.

God’s love and light art the truth.
Massage of the negative fear_ can only blame …
Mistaken Identity.
There is always this question…How do I get above?
The longing for what was lost in my life.

How can I_ now_ make it right?
This is the only thing that makes sense.
Scrubbing out the night.
Scaring myself into reality.
Writing the prescription, as I see it.

Exercising my right to explore the holy attitude of transcending.
What is there, when you have lost the aptitude_
To just go along for the ride. When you bring the house lights up.
The demeanor of knowing the rules_ as they are written.

God’s love is in the word, and the word was God,
And the art of living is
In the description of appreciation and  grace
Of Living__I have said before these same things_
In a different way.
And each time I get closer to the River of Life_
Flowing through my center.

There is so much more, where this is coming from.
I do what I can to bring my living seed forward.
Not to get attention, but to finally arrive at a place of being.
Meditation on a life lived…Passed due.

But not foregotten…I know I can,
and will eventually_ get to the obvious reason for trying.
Out of place and out of time, I hang up, but don’t get
to surrender to the outlaws of space and time.

I am here for the duration of Time.
It will take all that I have_ to eventually overcome
all of the distance that lies between me and thee.
If we were in proximity…I don’t know what I would say.

But I would hope that the honor of  meeting would…
Settle any doubt about what we are about.
In an extraordinary way…I am such a simple being and
My ways are so distinguished, as to be non-chalant,

But as you can guess, I am simply amazing,
And that is all. Again!
For on this night_
I was said.
To be listening.

TR@2008

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Wednesday January 23, 2008
 What Better Place Than Now

Exactly as I wished it to be.
I cannot set my HTML.
For the life of me,
I only want to depend on
the existence of the gestalt.

Wholeness of order, and surprised
to exist on the transformative bridge.
Resolved to be a true and gallant Christian,
and yet in this world, I need to gather my structure.

Be a stand up man and write of my life.
Through all of the backward stands.
In this land of disatisfaction, I find_
my simple enterprise holds me enthralled,
Because I believe in something _

Greater, bigger, fluid, and small, always moving
In consciousness, it has brought me thus far,
and I can finally see the shape of things to come.
I am consciousness of action.
I depend on my reception of the life within.

There is a song in my heart.
I can flow like water on a table tilted, every which way.
What does that bring me?
It calls to me.
What does the voice say?

I am listening,  and tonight.
I am breathing within_ this life I seek.
In the science of God’s mistakes, I am a bridge.
If I am a mistake, then I am making amends.

The Life of this world needs my great heart.
I Know God wants me to find my voice.
Speaking of action. Take this, as that.
Ultimately, with but few believers,
I will come to the head of my life,
and sway in the winds of time, as the great oak.

On this you can depend.
From my, yet, small demonstration,
I am casting the waves of my wind.
I am drawing on the truth of senses.
Corresponding with the one true Love.

It is difficult to trust the gathering.
I trust the gathering.
Like the bi-fold door, my two sides meet.
I am adjacent to my gain, as I am losing my place.
Outside, of this door, there is a swinging hammer,
I must walk under, as I pass back and forth, in time.
It wants to take me away.

What wills me to not be anything other,
than what I have become, is a deep faith.
Fostered, by my total dedication to the
depth of faith, hope, and love.
And then the remonstrations.

What will pass as fact or fiction?
What creates doubts and pretense?
Who is this man? What can he possibly mean?
He thinks_ he is a prohibitive favorite?
That he has a place, I know!

I’ve made my mistakes. And they are greater_
Than you can possibly imagine, but,… but, I can still_
Imagine that better place and feeling.
I imagine and believe in the ‘fairy tale’.
The true reality….,
that we were meant to cast our greatest witness_
to the joys of aspiration.

The life of un-pretended fulfillment,
and satisfaction in our time_ in place.
Being in this moment __Do I commend myself _
to the act of Being?
Indubitably!

The Paradox is…I have always known my Trailways to the stars.
I am the real deal. A scientific traveler from the other side.
I have been a casual observer in a world of the children’s
Well laid plans.
Why is it, we can’t seem to get it right?

The answers are magnificently arising over the horizon.
We can no longer face our own demise.
Who can pretend the world is not broken.
I don’t have the answers tonight, but
My enterprise is to cajole and encourage _first light.
To bring thoughtful introspection.

Faith within…
Each, of us, grabbing our own  bootstraps.
Realizing, not our political or economic configuration,
but that God has a plan.
First, we are loved. Second,
We have not been foregotten.
Third, Have faith, and fourth,
Remember to breathe.

I love you all.
I am just a simple man.
Written by the imaginary me!

Hello!, and how was your day?
I hope my thoughts are compatible,
with the shape of things to come.

Let’s not pretend, anymore.
One mind, One heart.
L-O-V-E

Anywhoo!  TR_Out!
Sublime and lemon.
One, 2008

Posted by trust the rust at 2:04 AM – 1 Comment   Add a Comment   
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