A|one
Not only,
but Also
We are
all In,
at this
Poker Table.
And point
Blank,
it's all
the Same
Alone
A/one
We are
all assured
the House
will win!
Whoever deals
or what Card
is played,
what extra Ace
is slipped, or
Mortal bet
is placed:
We're all in
till the End
and it's All
the same
One Table
turning, crackling
and All is one
all One and
the same,
a Conjunction
We throw
hands up
or we throw
Our hand in
It's all the Same
It's all and None
Much like
"apart"
but with
earned Scar,
a Slash for where
we Fought,
for a Way
Out from,
Draw back.
Dear Mom,
All the Month of May, and March, your birth month, are to me Mementos in our family calendar. Ever since your passing, not a day goes by that I do not think of you, but in these the Moments are that much more with Emphasis.
Mom you were my best friend. In ways, you will always remain as such. After all, I still talk to you as if you were right here.
In your Homemade pink floured apron, and the kerchief you wore over your silken hair, I can picture you advising me as you juggled things on the Stove, in the Oven and tended the Store front, and us three children. Mom, I've no idea how you did it. You would remind me to look at the simple things for Inspiration.
Nobody bakes and cooked like you did. I have the Recipes!! and neither I nor my wife (God Bless the Angel for trying!) can replicate. I know it was something to do with the Exactness of how things were done, not the pinch of this or that but How. Whether sprinkled in or rolled or in one clump or over Time. Or how Hot or Cold. You knew. And I'm sure you told me too. I forget. I have learned that Lesson though.
I'm trying to pass that on to the Grandchildren. That Thoughtfulness. That Thoroughness. And that Toughness.
Thank you Mom. It's that No Fail pie crust I'm craving now. No matter what you put in there is was always Right. Perfect. Comfort and Conversation. Just add You and Me, and a pot of Tea, with its yellow cozy.
To you Mom.
All our Love,
Keith
ಥ_ಥ
Note to Selfie,
• The rain Outside is like the eating of Dogs, salivating over whatever it is in the Bowl. There's the crunching of the Crunchy bits, and the slurping down of the slurry. That was before the Commute, on the walk to the Station wagon. Now we've all arrived at work. I only hear the usual Downpour •
The Reclaimed Diary of Junior Doe
I'm a run away.
I'm not that fictional Mary Run Away-- from That book. The one I'm hiding in my hand. Bet you didn't see it. You may not have a chance to read it. If you're "young-adult," like me, it's widely banned. It's got No-No issues we wouldn't understand. Things like Phys ed, Mental health, Disabilities, Social relations. Big things but in simple words. I'm not going to use those heavy Terms. That would be a mistake.
Human growth and development--I know those are the big words! Ripe, and ready for the chopping block. Hum. Dev.
I'm going to give you a book that can't be censored. A work that says all the things on the Human heart, but in a way that can't be Casted away.
Sure, I know that's "Grammatically incorrect." It borders even on Politically Incorrect. But the error is Perfect in what it points out literally: the throwing away, the sealing off of parts of Life experience. The temper tantrum of the terrible Two's over what's "Mine" continues. It's the base refusal to Share. We tie ourselves up like this well past high school.
But I am run away lips. I am going to let my thoughts run free. Man, we never know what we are birthing. Words, or babies. Soldiers, or revolutions. It starts with loosening of Lips, right? Otherwise, nothing comes out. Not blasphemy, nor praise.
Censor that and it's like putting a chastity belt on Mom's apple pie. Gross Overkill.
This is the American way we hold to be self-evident... it's ellipses, a series of periods. Fertile. I'm a girl. I totally get that bloody visual. And there's no reason every child, male or female, should be ignorant of our Biology. We are people of Science, so's I heard. No need to cuss for M'Fasis. Whatever you believe in, we all follow the Rules: of The Bio Logics. We're born, we geriatric (oops! big term), we die. And it doesn't make sense. Nope, not to anybody-I-know's sub logic.
Junior's my hero. He's telling it in the rough and comic. I mean he's like Superman and Clark Kent, at the same time and more. Not PC. Not applesauce. Not Pasteurized and Canned. Not Plucked and Clean bikini waxing. He's real. He's got Disabilities. He's got Trauma. He's overcoming. It's positive. He's got ordinary parents, with common flaws (strengths and vices). Wow. He's loved by his family. Imagine that. Just like the bulk of us. Planned or unplanned pregnancies but accepted and reared as best as two people can. A mother and father, together. Man, that's so average. So like me.
I almost forget he's Native. That's like a cloak he puts on while talking about "everyman." You always have to have a gimmick to sink your titanic into human sentiment.
"Gimme your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore." Go Lady Liberty!
What's my line? Treading. I'm tight rope walking over the V--
Mount Vesuvius, duh, not vulva volcanics down there. Where did your mind go? Shucks. The unmentionable. Shame on you. Self-censoring like that in the 21st century, when we're so open-minded.
Let me tell you about how I recovered.
What was Missing in the Set
In the End, they were all Lies.
...the V and E were hanging, misleading. The Living Energy, vie, and E as Mass fucking itself over twice as fast. One need only rearrange the lowered bar of the vowel and pull it tight as a straight hold over the consonant mountain flipped and righted, to know that Fff, it be "Life," A LIFE. Stripped.
"Tell me more about the things that have shaped you the most."
Constance knew it was a probing Question. It was in response to how she had started the Session: "I want to believe."
Yet, it was Lie that stood out to her, dead center, in that noblest Concept. The Conviction that things lie buried deep Inside. Things which are accepted or rejected, about one's Self, or one's Species. That link in itself Specious. Non truths. Things which are Not False. Nor True, per se. But maybe Either Or; or Neither. The Essence.
Like in Meditation.
Like in Divination.
Like in Morality.
Whatever left a person Hanging in the balance of unknown Estimation. That is to say the Fundamental perception of Self Worth.
In this the Twists:
The dodges and excuses Family made about the Accumulation and Distribution of Wealth, in and outside of itself, lying beneath. Dealings. She had her furs in Public; He had his whores in Private. On the Surface, they were the Model of Success, in every Article, right down to the Governess'd 2.5 children. The Half being the Family Yorkie who lived in the Missus' handbag along with the Revolver and emergency pill Bottle. Security in the Family, covert, as with Fear, felt, but unseen. Like Status.
The Family was Stable. It valued Togetherness. It valued Hard Work. It valued Justice, and Freedom of Choice. It valued Value. F
The things that Shape us most.
LIES.
* Life Flashes Before & After ☆
The Moment everything Changed to my Knowledge
is in Expulsion, & its Consciousness, thereof, which,
Birthing, in a long shadow Phantom trail, leaf to root
like the singled-out Peach Tree always Giving in, even
in our Memory represents each brush with Its Materia
and the Thing that remains, Seen or Unseen, is... Man
with or without a perception of Gratitude, & the Odd
Complex Fullness or Emptiness, with which it leaves...
Us, in the Final Moment whereby Everything Changes
One last Time, to the Best of our Knowledge...
The Letter K
I opened It
with suspected
Reservation...
the Envelop,
handmade
Tear here,
it said,
and I let
One slip
and bleed
through the Ink
I feel what was
Inside
all this Time
but we know
how it is...
There are things
we set aside
or let Lie
and on return
there's some Twist
our Memory had
or hadn't missed
It was like that
now in my
leathered Liver
spotted grasp...
I broke the Seal
placed long ago
I remember that
Stranger's face
better than
mine own
today...
would I blush
or be Forgiving
would I stop
half way ..?
or get on
with it...
I skimmed
the parts that
were too
densely
True
I rang
the cream
through
Cheesecloth
since as we know
what isn't Good
now is more oft
Bettered with
age
and I saved bits
for later...
I laughed a lot
I was a Child
I was... Ok
down to the
very Pompous
Signature
that Hung
with such
Hopes...
for myself
One Day.
~K
(●′ > ’●)
Note to Selfie,
• It's creeping closer, and closer to All Hallow's Eve, in shades of Brown and Grey. My bonus daughter, Wrinkles her Nose. Things have really changed. We used to Trick-or-Treat, face-to-face, then Trick-or-Trunk, doubly Masked-up. We used to hold a Neighborhood Séance, holding hands through the hours of the Dark. Not anymore, post COVID. Respect for the Dead as much as the Living whispers of footsteps. We might have gone creeping to Haunted Houses, after Daylight hours, but these have Shuttered. Now the thing in the latest Adverts is the Haunted Car Wash. We might try that. She giggles and runs to get her scuba Goggles •