OlYello

You can’t own the Earth, you know;
The Earth owns you.
Although, to be honest, perhaps it’s not so good for her.
“Nasty habit, keeping humans around.
Bad for the complexion,”
Some other, more fastidious, planet might say.
But we’ve all had things we loved that weren’t so good for us.
Haven’t we?

If you really want to indulge in some ‘lateral thinking,’ relate this idea to the ‘energy healing’ experiments conducted by Dr. Bill Bengston.

“You can convince the universe…”

“…do you not find fruit in your palms?”

Ambulocetus looks like he could compete in Formula One.

Mapplethorpe photo of a pair of entwined tulips

Folks, I'm telling you,
birthing is hard
and dying is mean–
so get yourself
a little loving
in between.

Langston Hughes, "Advice"
#everynightapoem #botd

[Robert Mapplethorpe, Tulip, 1985]

“As far from myself as ever”

ND, bah.

Just because you’re intellectually lazy doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with *my* brain.

When you pass a law, you create the conditions for crime. Without law, there is no crime. So, after you pass the law, there will inevitably be more crime than before. More crime means more police, more courts, more prisons … and more taxpayer expense. Even well-intentioned actions have consequences.

You are describing the feelings of every creative, everywhere, ever.

Hang in there; you may never feel that your work lives up to your vision, but the longer you work at it, the better, objectively, it will become.

Generative AI + ‘Proof of Work’ cryptocurrency = electricity nobody can afford.

“The Century’s corpse outleant.”

So true. Every person I meet IRL has different, distinct characteristics that attract my notice. Why would that be any less true of fictional people?

Writers, please don’t introduce all your characters at once in chapter one. It’s confusing. Introduce them one at a time, letting each one make an impression, then give me some time to get used to them before you prompt me to visualize the next one.

Until you are enlightened,
Do not think of any thing
As untrue, or absurd.
Until your vision is clear,
You cannot know.

No one wears humble anymore. It’s out of fashion mistaken for weakness instead of grace. It doesn’t shine under bright lights, doesn’t clammer for attention. It knows how to stand without rearranging the order. Humble speaks in lowercase, lets silence finish the sentence, steps aside without needing to be remembered for it. Once, it was an heirloom passed hand to hand, honour stitched into the seams, pride turned inside out. Now it hangs in the back of our closets, unworn, waiting for a body brave enough to see if it fits.

No one wears #humble anymore.
It’s out of fashion
mistaken for weakness
instead of grace.
It doesn’t shine under bright lights,
doesn’t clammer for attention.
#poetry #vss365

Didn't watch it.
It's always lies.
Moving on.

There are two kinds of belief:

“I’m sure this is right,”
and
“I’m sure this is wrong.”

Neither is useful.

No, maybe there is a third kind:

“I’m sure this can be made right.”

That one is useful.

He really looks like he’s thinking, “but … why?”

Aww, now I feel kind of disappointed … and I’ve never even heard that acronym before.

I hate this poem;
It’s just not right—

I posted it too soon and
Now I see 3or4 ways it
Could have been better, Should have been, must be…

But no, I’ll leave it.

Though it niggles and it nags…

I could delete,
Repost. Just a few words,
It could be so much…

but I don’t, I…

I’ll…
Just leave it be.

There is an angry darkness
In you that calls
To the mad shadow
In me that flickers,
Tenebrous, against
The wall of the cave.
Somewhere, behind me,
There is A Light
(there must be… right? Right?)
But I can’t see…can’t
Turn
My head
Quite
That
Far.

Oh, I see. Story of my life, I guess; inadequate silverware reserves.

If knives are so useful, but spoons were your first resort, then how much more efficacious must they be?

Ya gotta do what ya gotta do.

Yeah, knives, but you know… spoons.

Poetry is the sudden red splatter when you didn’t know you were bleeding.

It’s the gasp that precedes the startle.

It’s the frigid chill of the knife that comes before the pain.

It’s the weight of the words of the seer, falling like stones: irrefutable, irrevocable, irrecuperable.

Hmm …. How about ‘health care in America is a plate of spaghetti with flesh-eating-bacteria-sauce’?

Maybe … ‘health care in America is a hand puppet with a piranha inside’?

Or ‘a condom with a cactus lining’?

‘Acid-infused toilet paper’?

Maybe just ‘FUBAR’.

I chivvy… we chivvied… they have been chivvying… lol, you’re right; it looks like a word Mary Poppins might have concocted to entertain small children.

Interesting. This is how I learned to do it…and this is how editors always seem to want it done… so which is correct?