Traditionally These Sorts Of Bean-shiths Show Up At Night

December 25, 2008

Traditionally, these sorts of bean-shìths show up at night. This was one of them alright,
A winged citizen of some god’s banished race,
Or, one of those, now animated shards from
that shattered-first-cry belonging to the first baby ever born…

Though this one, it was standing in blazing sunshine,
and wrapped in The-middle-of-the-Day at that;
actually, it landed on the garden-sundial’s top most
angle, to double state success at its feat…

In these instances,
there’s no one to say anything
exactly right,
Plenty have gotten it wrong though,
Or, at least, they described it as such,
so far as expectations go
and wishes granted before,
instead of afterward…

Some types of these ‘wee people’ simply
do not count on their fingers, they use those
of their eye-catchers, hidden in pockets and
behind backs, tangled in crossed fingers and
miscounted, spooling off rosary beads…

See, these beings are born of deeds,
or the heart’s strong-swung-near-misses
and the mind’s eye’s reckless abandonment
of a certain kind of signal from those eyes
it’s looking at when conscience calls and does not
win…

I believe the reader knows that old saying,
‘Don’t give me that puppy look.’

Though such expressions turned outwards can serve two,
identical-twin priests; one, who is a disbeliever,
and needs a profession so to have a reason to
leave home… While the second just looks that way
and isn’t trying to pull any wool over your eyes…

Somewhere between being a child and acting childish,
a transition-point-of-reference was lost, something holy
one’s own was placed second or third in line, a line, really, who only, in all of Eternity’s forgings, belongs to a dot…

All projections and mirroring-theories
and verifications aside, ignorance is bliss,
and bliss is not always a kiss on the forehead
from god, a saint, or even a monk in training;

Oftentimes it feels good to just try and pry a smile out of someone who’s only looking for frowns, and for no
exact reason, it simply happens because that Space in
between the looker and the seen conjured it so:

This sensation-of-doing something soul-medicinal
lingers and strives to paint something that resembles
your childhood room or the first role model you
subconsciously determined was going to be ‘You’,
it simply yearns of yarn and a silo and a barn to store this yarn into until you can figure out what it’s for
or even about…

This citizen of the Off-the-time-clock-marshland-winged-Folk is a fairly fragile reminder, that, what it takes to undo a pathway, going from point A to point Z, and planned for a one-legged pirate’s homecoming, is no where near the anguish and cosmic trouble it would have taken to have had your expectation met in the positive, had that particular pirate ship won the battle in
the bay of your romantic notion of how well pirates can aim with such unforgiving-cast-iron-cannons after a morning rum tasting bar and barbecue banquet…

So much is determined by very old shadows,
shades that teach harpies how to howl more howlier,
from their stomachs or the gut, instead of possibly disintegrating their tonsils with the origin within themselves of the Opera Singer’s high notes…

Real harpies do not have their tonsils removed,
because, in their childhood, they were taught the innate
wisdom concerning the skywards going, compartmentally-flowing, and without a mechanism like the heart, who the blood holds and knows so true, lymphatic system’s two most self sustaining guardians: this knowledge’s effect on their consciences, untainted by mortal gain and fear of seasonal losses, It, just won’t allow this.

These old shades; shadowless forms abiding in shade…
Every human being has a dark side,
Just like the moon,
Just like the Earth does,
Twice in its Day’s time…

Moderation has a dark side,
Kindness coupled with sarcasm
is already self explanatory,

Contests are far greater successes
prior to their scheduling,

And enthusiasm joins the ranks
of the gods someplace in between
the enthusiast’s forgetfulness
of that result desired and the name
of the first person they wished to ask
whether it was a good idea (or not)
to go ahead with ‘The Plan’…

Mistakes always deliver us…

We stumble and make up all
sorts of explanations concerning
how it could have been our moment of genius,
had we not followed our fool Shadow,
while the burden of the mistake never lies,

And the subject of dispute or naïve experimentation
in mind-imagery-basket-weaving is nearly always
more ignorant of its own construction’s beingness,
(who stands between Cause and Effect) than the
contents of its weightiness, and depression yoked,
from eaters and gatherers via its momentary status
as an Offering of Plentifulness, disguised as an
aphrodisiac-Easter basket, those all-encompassing-forces
(save the circle’s point-of-origin itself) of
backward-sight-empathy and self preservation,
those it could never have imagined having
hold of its heartache’s message…

The winged being stood looking at me,
till Dusk’s light could play no more its ancient game of
Tell-me-the-Time with mankind’s dial’s dark,
shadow-laid-sideways side,

I could feel the coldness of its transparent wings,
Synchronicitiously landing flat, folding,
and slide-disappearing as I inhaled all my life’s
projections up, up to this very moment
in Time standing still within and forgetting me…

This reminded me of
when I used to press my face
against frost frozen,
sleet smothered winter window panes…

Before thoroughfare-inhale-swimming
to get within the twin oceans of my lungs,
it laughed, looked, laughed, and brushed
its feet on my mustache…

I took in a twice breath, while still resting on the first, and wiped two or three tears away,
those kind you get from -19 degrees
below zero high winds blowing in your face,
saying ‘I love you’, ‘I love you’.

There are days when what you write becomes your
Tomorrow’s life; the Beloved teaches to always be
the ready, and the willing, editor of any love-misunderstandings…

Yes. Confirmation is now confirmed; that there’s no guessing about the love it takes to gamble away the card table first, before the game gets better!