The sunset aspires to rise

I know where my hands've been
In gods dirt digging
On this earth, far far away
I know whose hands will pray for me
I'll make a foreign scene
A home for me.
I  know where my hands been
up in the trees
Picking.

im insistint on consistent wishing
persisting that i will be
a better person,
but im not.
What can i do but offer
but to dwell further
on what my love can barter
Have the good in me fostered.

Arizona is mellow
I am the luckiet girl in the whole wide world.
I could just put on my straw hat
shade my eyes
hide under a blanket
rock back and forth
and wish i was dreaming
but I am wide awake and jittering.
And although spelling in this state
cloud be quite atrocious
i am s i n g ing
superfragilistixedpalidocious
Arid, Arizona is is rid of mellowness
superfragilisticexpealidoscious

To wake
With hope
When its known
There is no...
No humanity left
Not a spell
Nor a spec
So I just smoke on this cigarrette for the lord I repell
And just as well
Shoot this godless gun
And sing this pitiful song
Because I don’t repent yet
No, I still don’t repent
I live with necessary regret

The clouds are a perfect time capsule,

i need to look up more often to say hello

 

rays radiate from my stance,

moving upward and out of my hands,

from the a.m. 

till the day is done at dusk

and then all over again.

The mindfull pointless repitition

is a similar tradition

practiced by creatures of less

habit, worry, and obsession

 

All creativity is based on quantum leaps and uncertainty

a universal collective consciousness

 

 confront the recognition that I am being seeing and seen from, observing and observed from, a particular and localized point of view
face to face with the unknown

I obey by the fear, and the force of desire that forgoes having to make sense

i preserve a choice that voices me to vote to let go

Comfort is bliss but so in confidence

I have a duty, and god dammit its not romantic or poetic, its realistic not phrophetic on a scale of one to ten, it rates a moderate 5 on being pathetic