Here is a test,
to sit and interpret
that which fidgets in the higher recesses of mind.
a taste test to gauge the internal structure.
like perfectly placed china in a glass house.
arranged in a unified sequence with no folly placed secretly so that the house might shake and all the china would crash into each other and the house, everything shattering into a million billion pieces.
then it’d be like some movie, like most movies, where an emotional bone is thrown and the placated audience sits, prone, on the edge of their seats waiting for the moment when that thing is going to happen,
and tragedy ensues everyone’s bent out of shape and they leave the theatre feeling like they got hit by a truck.
what is that?
This is insightful,
not an investment for my capital, but insightful none the less
to feel the slow death of that thing inside me which gets to decide the fate of my own internal “oh crap what’s gunna happen next” mechanism,
cause for me the glass house is there and it’s perfect, immaculate!
I don’t care how many big shot movie makers, school yard bullies, external controllers of others destinies walk by and try to sneak a rock throw, the glass house remains, and every piece of china is in place just perfectly so according to the dictates of my mind,
you can huff and puff and blow down your own piece of the show but mine will remain.
And as things generally play out around subjects such as words coming out of mouths, I’ll probably invite you over for tea, so we can share some of our perfection mind stew to the best of our abilities. It’s a more co-operative adventure.
one that really does it for me
no big screen 3d virtual mind hump
can compare with the reality of the miracle of your eyeballs
and the vibratory countenance which corresponds to
ONLY your throat, only your heart, You and only you.
a gift in gods garden
a perfect little twig on the end of a
VERY VERY big tree,
you, the bird, i the squirrel
sharing the sunlight.
Boxing up the box office into dice,
that we can throw