Euclidian ellipses

Conjure circumnavigational collusions — coincidences,

Lending lustrous

Interactive interventions, invocations intersecting

Peculiar perigees, promising

Surrendering spheres'

Eccentricities

Enhanced evocations enter,

Culling, calling, conspiring

Life's longevity; love's liaisons

Interweaving invitingly:

Pineal pulsations

Summon

Extraocular, extrasensory experiences

Estrus erupts expediently, explosively;

Cyclicly controlled coital capitulation, chaining charmed celestial

Lunacy, leading libido lovingly — lustfully —

Into intercourse — invasive interludes

Portending, perhaps, procreation;

Shared solar sexuality suddenly spawning

Entanglement's enamored embraces, expressing embryonic expectations

It's easy to play the victim. It's easy to get angry, and even furious, at the state of the world. Let's be real: I am angry every single day. I don't want to have kids because I think the world is a decrepit wasteland, and the only thing running it is bills, sickness, and hatred. I don't even have access to universal healthcare, for f*cks sake.

But here's my advice, to you and myself: mindset.

I have wanted to run screaming from rooms. I have bitten my hands in fits of rage. I have sneered at others, cut people off, rolled my eyes at minor inconveniences.

Mindset. Someone said: no emotion is permanent. I have to do things I love to forget my rage. I go to the gym and run on the treadmill until I don't feel anger, or much of anything. I feel calm. I feel whole. I feel complete.

Mindset.

In order to go to the gym, one has to get out of bed. In order to go to the gym, one needs to pull on their big girl pants and suck it up in the traffic it takes to get there. One needs to sign in, and watch people watching them, perhaps even judging them. One needs to tie their sneaker's laces and suck it up, period.

My advice to anyone struggling is: it's all in your head. No emotion is permanent. It's all how you make it.

I'm not saying go to the gym, necessarily, but it's helped me.

One of my favorite memes of all time is: someone asks a man working at a grocery store if they can try the grapes. He says: I wouldn't care if you lit this place on fire with me in it.

Yeah, that: when I feel that, I go to the gym, and run until my mindset is once again mine - calm, whole, complete.

It's all only what you make of it.

I am intimidated by a blessing I am in the very midst of, but I'm not even supposed to be here so I am already ahead. still...

God will often want more of us than we think we can do or be. Be afraid but don't back down- being brave is something you can't claim unless you are acting within the thing that you need to be brave for.

The biblical account says nothing about Samson's physical appearance, except for his long hair- historical and modern art and our own minds may 'picture' him as this big hulking man; capable of the fantastic awesome feats of strength he carried out. I tend to think he was small, or thin, or just average because it was not the might of Samson... it was the might of God in Samson. ("...the Spirit of the LORD came powerfully upon Samson...")

What would appear to more an act of God... a giant brute of a man tearing down gated walls, killing 1000 men with the jaw of a donkey, pushing down pillars of a building.... or someone average or mid doing these same things?

We don't have to wait to be brave, or strong, or bold for God until we are some grand example of what we (or what we think others) 'picture' define as brave, strong or bold. It's no longer WE who live, but CHRIST who lives in us... BE. THE. CLAY. God uses OUR weakness to show HIS power and HIS strength. Be brave with me this week.

BE. THE. CLAY.

Pray for me, I am praying for you.

Galatians 2:20 King James Version (KJV)

I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.

Countdown to homelessness –

mars this earthlinked sole Harris - son

panhandler would would register

pyrrhic victory won.

10…9…8…3..2..1…

Found me linkedin at the end of my wits

mein kampf and hard times

playing on big screen at the Ritz

vamoose oft times motivations quits

for -- no money iz the pits

without any rich Uncle (Sam) in my orbitz

to ease worse case scenario than bing covered

head to toe with nits

if...offered residence among...

hive feel stung as beelzebub doth buzzfeed,

after being espied,

targeted in the crosshairs

of excellent marksman -

credo, ethos, and holistic lifestyle - a mitts

fa this contemplative, furtive,

and intuitive chap lits

of luminous joie de vivre

will emanate like bland kits

and biting the bullet

no less tasty than true grits,

the latter touted by Euell Gibbons

of bias, discrimination, fuhgeddaboudit

suddenly resplendent with blinding blitz

warp and whoop of bits.

Medium of spoken or written word

avast milieu this wordsmith doth assay,

the aim of said missive constitutes

avoiding living in cardboard box or bidet

house zing debacle looms approximately

soffit teen eaves from this day

if scant success, this atypical, ideal

and zeal - lot might post himself on eBay

or mebbe get swooped up

by 10,000 cannibals and turned into a fillet

which mish mashed matted mush

will resemble fifty shades of gray.

Words above and below

written June thirtieth,

two thousand seventeen indicates,

when rental lease

will find our psyches fillet

so this buster brown

(actually Eastern European Semitic caucasian)

hooped to stave then

turning fifty plus eighteen shades of gray

weigh past time of life

to gather rose buds – boot hay

touted as AARP candidate

my inner child doth inlay,

I approach outer limits

per twilight zone of this blue jay

youthful looking married male -

with doe eyed wife does not buck,

donnybrook and neigh

against mortality reckons,

a safe and secure domicile

important basic needs

(codified by Abraham Maslow) – okay

this LVIII year young chap

haint expect tin tubby be housed

in courtly Highland manor,

yet anxiety sans poverty will play

a cruel hoax ruse trick finding me

to jump off a bridge –

with pier - sing quay

King Crimson ready

to bring cessation of existence –

when nada stinging ray

of salvation pleasantly doth sashay

and bring relief before

unwelcome ominous killer fate

inches closer incrementally from today

this father of deux darling

then near grown daughters

might fare better brexit - ting America

high tailing dreams to Uruguay.

Nary a snowball chance in hell

this alter kaker will nab employment

since receiving social security

emotional disability for countless years

(viz anxiety, dysthymia,

obsessive compulsive disorder, and prone

to become emotionally panicky

and paralyzed in social situations)

relies on medications,

which palliative doth alleviate, calm, and endow

relief (from debilitating, harrowing,

and lacerating quality of being alive.

LIST OF PRESCRIPTION MEDICATIONS THEN TAKEN:

1. Clonazepam 0.5 MG Tablets;

(generic - Klonopin); (1 tablet 3x daily).

2. Fluoxetine Hcl 40 MG CAPS; (Generic - Prozac).

3. Prazosin 1 MG capsule - 1 capsule nightly.

4. Quetiapine Fumarate; (generic - Seroquel) -

50 MG; (2 tablets 2x daily).

5. not a misprint – a higher dosage,

this pop pops prior to bedtime.

Quetiapine Fumarate; (Generic - Seroquel);

100 MG; (1 tablet at bedtime).

Sought an affordable place

against the sands of time

thyself and spouse race

already envisioning an outlook

that doth harken to trace

living non social on bleak street -

forever reaching for salvation

like Samuel Coleridge Taylor,

his rime of the ancient mariner

or John Keats lovers for’ ever glazed

asper ode on a Grecian (formula) vase.

Mine status begs turing

vibrant with near blinding light

could inform this bloke

if any long term living accommodations

ever available, or perhaps

if no can do versus tae kwon do might

be privy to share information about

any eco-friendly community

to forestall any unpleasant plight

specifically being pitched out

on the streets with thee spouse

onto the bleak cobblestone streets

of the urban jungle, where right

iz determined by spittle and spite

and valuables must be clutched tight.

OCCUPATION:

I receive social security disability

for re: max him mum,

long and fostered, during the latter half

of the Fox and Roach pelted per

pesky pointedly nineteen hundred

and fifty nine

ever since my conception in utero -

likened to a luke warm Caldwell,

and the entire century 21.

STATE: protracted, anxiety

COUNTRY: United States

I'll take your hand

guide it to my waist

kiss me from behind

feel your lips

feel your breath

your body on top of mine

the warmth of your fingers

the shivers I feel

my turn, and then yours

gentle with me

like a glass vase

the ocean rocking against the shore

speed fluctuating

and music to your ears

senses turned up to 10

no one in the room

but red light, and music

a rhythm repeated again

I tried to find

A single instance

Where I don't die

But he does.

You know

Like a wrinkle in time

Each possibility

Rolled up

Into a stack of quarters

Ready to play

A different broadway

Song on the juke.

"Murder, Murder!"

I chose

and kept listening.

But "A Little Priest"

"Defying Gravity"

hummed a different tune.

"Ya Got Trouble"

said he.

"Wouldn't It be Loverly"

If you "Ease on Down the Road"?

No.

"Don't Rain on My Parade"

"Tonight"

"Anything Goes."

You're not "Helpless"

He cried.

Or "Satisfied,"

"All I Ask of You"

Is "Sunday."

And I

"Finishing the Hat"

Obliged.

Perhaps

"Once Before I Go"

I'll leave

the "Murder, Murder!"

Quarter

"For Good."

it's not that

we want to

even out

the loss

or settle

something

between us

...I'm dying

a slow and

anxious

morning,

rain and

tangerine

in colour...

left my

signature

and warning

scampering

back to

the hide,

inside the

skin of night

where not even

you as hero

can count

my wrong

doings,

nor pen

what can

never be

righted...

I have my

own bars,

and I'm singing

all off key and

cuff so that

you'll know

it's me jangling

with that

stainless

cleaver,

coming at

you from some

unexpected

direction...

and in the

meantime

slicin' in,

Anticipation.

07.22.2023

Villan Ark challenge @Meadow