Graciousness! (life style series, part 2 of —-) Not Branding but Becoming

(Ahhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Sometimes in the dead of night, in the slow of winter, in the haze of these long lived summer days there are moments on the mind, an unkempt reeling of sorts. The wicked wonders in which an army of strays lack, leach, prey and partake on your fellow friend, your peer, your one, you yourself. Stop. Run amok are the tyrants sent to rely on petty and stupid, they seek in you consciousness, roused by light and love and the illustrious ideas of original idea. Stop.

Sweet and salty is a revolution of a peaceful mind in the often cited, prominent part of the playground. Therefore keep playing.

We know all about these tricks.
We see the depth of nothing, churning out shards of broken treaty and remorse.
We have in us a stranger tide, ripping apart oligarchy and alike - sorry. (oligarchy maintained by and for all indignant and disingenuous, not necessarily encompassed to the rulers and taste makers - you know who you are)
We will be ok.

Graciousness: like the light at the end of the tunnel, a wind tunnel always and forever in my mind will there be an onslaught of rush, rollicking to the forces beyond my control, beyond your control, beyond and for good reason. Keep practice patience and penance at close range, your heart of hearts, relegated to the mass anomaly of sick and sudden will prevail in a time of undone, if only for and as a result of the pure, polite goodness we always knew you always had.

Be well, chin up; make your mark on this side of gracious folly.

(cont)

Agents of Hearsay: Unsolicited Biographies of Politicians turned Role models of the 21st Century.

Values! (a life style series, part 1 of —-) Branding for the homely and dishonest tastes we all want to swallow but never admit to)

(to begin)

Take notes, read lists, have a go at something other than tired hunches and believable stacks of paper sitting on the low lit, norm-core distinction that rests between class and zealotry.

This can be like a bullet point type of situation:

· begin, release, relinquish (control, horrific ideas of the past you as a future ping in the grand design of a “grand scheme”)
· maintain foresight (I will become, all at once, or nothing at all, because living a life solely with the purpose of me in mind is not at all like the cherished choke holds that wisdom would merit)
· invite friends and fury, see who prevails.
· maintain a healthy does of social media meritocracy when and if and for however long possible.
· meditate on a life lived in context - you see these shining lights everywhere?
      - if yes. You have decided on a value system dedicated to the low level idiocy of like minded, one sided shifts of attitude that ultimately have nothing to do with a common good and more to do with total bullshit (definitions decided upon, readers use discretion)
       - if no. Seek patience, rest assured on nature (and other ideas of that nature, no other words of advice at this time)

(con’t)

Place These High Times in the Corner of your Memory

(say this as if there is a deep inner sense of calm, the voice of wisdom is raining down upon your sour logic and deviant mind frame. This is a smoke free zone.)

reads the sign that says so, or says something, or likes to pretend that
the word vapid, like common status of the status quo, is complete non-sense.

Non, in the sense of ignorant. Ignore.

Ignore in the sense of, a moral majority that does not matter.

If I am out of line, please tell me where I went wrong. In these wonted days of travesty like majesty, like a certain will of the people, or will of a “company”

made up of small tokens of appreciation, to be donated to higher forms of self and regret.
they can later doll out as advice disguised as life saving forms of monotony, disregarding hypocrisy, null and void.

Void is the word to keep in mind.

Poor Choices as Positive Agents of Change

Being All and Saying All. My dystopian Urban City, Sprawling (Cinephilia) Complex Is Coming True. This can be whatever you want it to be.

Today I choose reverence.
Party foul,
as always but with slight and sedentary emotion/remorse.
Conceit like a risk taker.
Risk, Taker.
That means that you will always and forever know the line between favor and balance, poor and harmony, me and you, you and yourself.
These were supposed to be marked as the good old days.
Instead, a red marker - crossed out across a feverish intent to sell.
I’m buying my own recovery, my own checks and balances system to install.
(That’s legal now a days, yeah? )

With or without Parental Consent should be a dynasty.
A new age for a new look, for all the kids getting all the inheritance.
(They will surely make good decisions for themselves, the well being of,
with the thought and care and compassion, acting as the best possible forms of life, in this fair city of ours; this fair nation of ours, just like their elders)

I’m not worried a thing.

Smite, Smitten. Wait What?

Someone just said to me but, I guess asked me, how do you mend a lonely heart? 

So I’m like, huh? me? I thought I was just emotionally closed off?


(All correspondence concerning matters of the heart will be filed within the “smite, smitten” context from here on out. maybe that will help)

And or, significant want, just nothing at all then - -

perhaps there is dignity inside a bottle,  a jar that has with it the seeds of many,  many,  a thought gone by. 

tell these tall tales at night —- 

incongruent with one thing or many, devious are patterns aligned with shade.   

(I’m genuinely confused about this women against feminism blog…)

Painted Oil Spills

Tell me more.  

or about other atrocities in the name is hapless and ultimately, individualized romanticism…. you know like, when we say, you look nice today, or you have a good day, what we really mean to say…. 

and then there are days that are just like shattered, like the whole of a global community seeing in it’s own damnation,  other reasons to go on living like yesterday. 

but we will never admit these things,  just like we don’t want to,  its the same spiral and sickness and subtle goodbye (forever). so yes please, 

tell me more. 

Welcome to the hate factory ( in memoriam)

These lowland scoundrels, the days of plenty but with good riddance in mind are vanishing into the clear blue sky.

Delicate is a dream.

You see the shining lights Are all dim right now, trotting down the side walk, the best of the best know refuge.

We the rest however, feel the burden beneath their footsteps, how funny it is to suffer they thought, Think, thinking about nothing but invaluable traces of their own sordid love affairs concerning wealth and want.

Delicate was a dream.

Imagine a shy moment in history, a humble time with the making of a marvelous approach to freedom in design. A lovely scripture that sings the songs of an honest days work. The pursuit to happiness is a day long escape in my minds eye, beauty upon truth upon justice and wisdom. These words are acted out in a declaration, yet in the here and now,

Delicate because of a dream.

Return the favor please, be weary of the able minded weak hearted strains of goodness walking along the prairie at night, the streets likened to gold can now be found in the gaze of the forlorn and poor heartbeats of the young and not to distant future of this once precious Nation of dreamers.

To the future, but referencing the past: my coffee shop career jobs.

Starry eyed for the dynamo, like in that one poem written that one time?

Consequently, the consequences - this will be the first and only time I talk about my coffee shop career, aka living in the shadows of a better, more perky you ( haha she thought).

Pertaining to or just comparing the life and times of the generation currently asked to pick up all the pieces as a result of all the assholes ( please see all the headlines currently being communicated in all the news periodicals every single day of your life)

Is it true about that one movie, something about “the matrix”? listless and lonely, linear werewolves, or warriors.
mixing with the wrong crowd, playing the fiddle to the toads of our time, ideally thinking of the electromagnetic pulse that ultimately travels the veins and rips through the arteries of the only living breathing species left, after all is said and done?

Yes. haha she thought, I can just add these filters to my coffee shop career job photos to make it look like we all live in “the matrix”

( note to the reader: the author of this piece is still yet, working at coffee shops in and around the greater metropolis of your dreams of reality)

What Else To Be Said About Highly Compromised Pieces of Trash/Art

We are what we think, we are what we think, we are what we think, 

we are our every moment and motion in the collapsable part of earth, air, fire and water ….  ??? 

In case of emergencies,  pieces of trash/art,  to be evaluated, cherished, torn apart of just plain put to the side.  

(Can we compare pieces of trash/art to the moral high ground shared/reviled by some people?  and/or do you want to?) 

Poetry About Breaking

Someone told me recently to make a worry box, 

to put all my worries in a box. 

I said,  yeah ok.  

"Rogue Dystopia" (not going anywhere really) and/Or Larger Than Life One Worded Presumptions (this could be anything so long as it is all CAPITALIZED for effect and deterance from finding out actual meaning of said WORD)

Tragicomedy for the feminist within: 

(reimagine a better time, with better people, for a better cause, thinking before you speak kind of attitudes are abound within the spiritual plain of existence for most, yet heed these tiny words as nothing more than a prelude to further delusion and dishonesty from the people that brought you pride) 

Magic Mayhem,

Deliver us from the life that has given to rest the only thing imaginable:‭ 
Terror and time.‭ ‬Magic mayhem,‭ ‬the words are private yet balanced,‭ 
They want to struggle for life,‭  created equal‬, for and against. ‭ 
Revel in urgency and then cease,‭  ‬a monotonous task for most.
Made steady,‭ ‬curtains to veil this under-appreciated tone of remorse.‭ 

This is the cause and effect relation,‭   ‬magic mayhem,‭ ‬I like it when‭ 
Praise shall‭  ‬be sung and actions soon follow.‭ 
It was the only‭ ‬thing stopping me from a night of pure,‭ ‬sadistic deal making.‭ 
Figureheads gone awry
Go figure.‭  ‬Wilted,‭  ‬magic mayhem,‭ ‬wilted.‭ 

This is the form one takes after perverse and tired laughter,‭ 
This moment of shine,‭ ‬in spite of a dubious smile‭ ‬– 
A moment in sync with‭ ‬all those who want it to be,‭ ‬magic mayhem,‭ 
You are my shining star.‭ 

A year later,‭  ‬or years later,‭  ‬in this decade,‭ ‬a century ago,‭ 
To hither,‭  ‬to remain as once was spoken in typical fashion,‭  
Lighting a cigarette is not easy anymore,‭ ‬nor is permanent ways.‭ 
Magic mayhem,‭  ‬the dirt has gotten on my leather boots,‭ ‬the straps have come undone.‭ 

Having posted letters to the wrong address,‭  
To pass the time and see where things end up,‭ ‬having lied,‭ 
Going to the beach today,‭ 
There will be magic mayhem‭ ‬in the water,‭ ‬and then it will float away.‭ 

Lively living,‭ ‬in a dance hall surrounded with merriment,‭ 
See all these patrons go by‭? ‬They mean it when they go by.‭ ‬ 
Living like linchpins‭ ‬,‭ ‬like lilacs‭ ‬-‭  ‬you see this odd chain of repetition concur‭; ‬ 
Or less,‭ ‬likely,‭ ‬lavish in décor.‭ 
Magic mayhem.‭ ‬Like sores beneath your tongue after a hard days rest.‭ 

Loosen up,‭  ‬see things come and go,‭  ‬in,‭ ‬out,‭ ‬penchant,‭  ‬not real,‭ ‬forever,‭ ‬but‭ 
Unforgiving,‭ ‬scrupulous,‭ ‬deny a luxury,‭ ‬happenstance‭ ‬,‭  ‬all the way,‭ ‬real time love,‭ ‬let go.
the raincoats‭ ‬are dripping with a certain kind of dash today.

Oh magic mayhem,‭ ‬the memories.‭ 

Magic Mayhem,

Deliver us from the life that has given to rest the only thing imaginable:‭ 

Terror and time.‭ ‬Magic mayhem,‭ ‬the words are private yet balanced,‭ 

They want to struggle for life,‭  created equal‬, for and against. ‭ 

Revel in urgency and then cease,‭  ‬a monotonous task for most.

Made steady,‭ ‬curtains to veil this under-appreciated tone of remorse.‭ 

This is the cause and effect relation,‭   ‬magic mayhem,‭ ‬I like it when‭ 

Praise shall‭  ‬be sung and actions soon follow.‭ 

It was the only‭ ‬thing stopping me from a night of pure,‭ ‬sadistic deal making.‭ 

Figureheads gone awry

Go figure.‭  ‬Wilted,‭  ‬magic mayhem,‭ ‬wilted.‭ 

This is the form one takes after perverse and tired laughter,‭ 

This moment of shine,‭ ‬in spite of a dubious smile‭ ‬– 

A moment in sync with‭ ‬all those who want it to be,‭ ‬magic mayhem,‭ 

You are my shining star.‭ 

A year later,‭  ‬or years later,‭  ‬in this decade,‭ ‬a century ago,‭ 

To hither,‭  ‬to remain as once was spoken in typical fashion,‭  

Lighting a cigarette is not easy anymore,‭ ‬nor is permanent ways.‭ 

Magic mayhem,‭  ‬the dirt has gotten on my leather boots,‭ ‬the straps have come undone.‭ 

Having posted letters to the wrong address,‭  

To pass the time and see where things end up,‭ ‬having lied,‭ 

Going to the beach today,‭ 

There will be magic mayhem‭ ‬in the water,‭ ‬and then it will float away.‭ 

Lively living,‭ ‬in a dance hall surrounded with merriment,‭ 

See all these patrons go by‭? ‬They mean it when they go by.‭ ‬ 

Living like linchpins‭ ‬,‭ ‬like lilacs‭ ‬-‭  ‬you see this odd chain of repetition concur‭; ‬ 

Or less,‭ ‬likely,‭ ‬lavish in décor.‭ 

Magic mayhem.‭ ‬Like sores beneath your tongue after a hard days rest.‭ 

Loosen up,‭  ‬see things come and go,‭  ‬in,‭ ‬out,‭ ‬penchant,‭  ‬not real,‭ ‬forever,‭ ‬but‭ 

Unforgiving,‭ ‬scrupulous,‭ ‬deny a luxury,‭ ‬happenstance‭ ‬,‭  ‬all the way,‭ ‬real time love,‭ ‬let go.

the raincoats‭ ‬are dripping with a certain kind of dash today.

Oh magic mayhem,‭ ‬the memories.‭ 

happy more sickness

to the end with all this depression,
I wanted to remain like a constant,
a constant, the vowel form of placate.

one day, when you get older, they will figure you would have made the right decision.
i’ve decided on decisions as a permanent hallmark for all future failure,
at this time my formerly prescribed drug addiction will be considered more than likely,
a sorry state of consciousness

I had to backtrack 12 years to be where i am,
lonely hearts in the vacant wind,
these days, like all these days, play around, side walk sales are humming to my footsteps,

they are humming to my footsteps because they sense my weakness.
i, like any voyage, caressing the unknown with a timid look and stoic touch,
feel that way of life?
its like tin cans for art, the sake art if art spoke, speaking of indignity?

is this humility for everyone?