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mist

* “What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.” —James 4:13-16

“Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow.” —Isaiah 1:17

* the fantasy of simple prarie life embeddded in our minds

holds fast, no matter the environ we live in; seeks to make us

try to replicate it wherever we tread.

the venal spirit of those disconnected from deity

in the process, destroyed any prospect of reconciliation, as there is no common ground

for the parties to stand upon & extend a hand.

so neither fantasy nor fundamentals get addressed

as we fumble futures in the futility, fuming & infighting

but not to the powers that be, effectively;

& like mist, we shall all dissipate in the enveloping air, should they have their way. * 5/25 - lebuc - mist

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the gut

* we all have 'em right beneath the solar plexus, it sits

your early warning signaller, your personal emergency broadcast system without the jarring sound -

but the feels - oh!

you know it's not just a hunger rumble or a gas bubble,

it's a rippling, churning sensation having nothing to do with what you did or did not eat recently;

it's your seventh sense shaking you from the core of your being if - you're in tune with your body at all.

its sensation is totally unique:

it hits like a wave, a surge - a physical-emotional nudge to your senses seemingly, at the moment - out of nowhere.

but - note the circumstance when it occurs

note the person, or persons present, note the issue you're pondering

note the contrast between it & the way you felt, previously.

you may ask yourself why, or you may not - because you already know;

one thing's for sure - your body knows, therefore...

you should too, wherever you happen to find yourself. * 5/25 - lebuc - the gut* ( *the one "check" you should always cash promptly! )

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good trouble (for the epoch of facism's abating)

* …above all, fight back exactly how you choose to, resist - as you surely will;

know that battles can & should best be waged on varied & sundry fields.

destroyers are best at destroying, creatives just yearn to create

the difference between the two is stark & that chasm looms ever great.

in this spasm, make sure to embrace your whole self, don't distort for the boomers in charge;

due time, you'll clear a lane, find causes opposers will find hard to dislodge.

the time, like many others before them, behooves us all to react;

reciprocate, but remember to elevate, honoring this so-simple pact:

do unto others what you'd have done to yourself in a similar state;

if destroying, you should surely be stifled; if well-building…here's keys to the gate.

from your tasks, may no voice deter you; unearthing your singular style;

the sweat - well, don't let them see it, displaying a subtle, disarming smile.

come the time for cheers, accolading - do know that your work is amazing

& if unheralded at the epoch of facism's abating, revel in the 'good trouble' you've been making. * 4/25 - lebuc - good trouble (for the epoch of facism's abating)

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degrees of preparation

* fifty degritos out past my window, this early May eve—

& me, fresh out of Doritos™. is this how it's supposed to be?

here, there’s always another option besides just chilling; meanwhile, a libation crests—

& my frown folds upward softly, by degrees of inebriation.

the air here is infused with the heady scent of freedom,

even with all the glinting temptations, lures for intrepid explorers

tethered to the slow-turning digital dawn, after squeezing one last thrill from midnight’s hemline.

lingering at the edge of liberty— that trembling, precious state,

too often mocked or mauled by the vilest reprobates;

i should reassess, lest i stumble into their bloated ideations.

so i pause, hesitate, and step back into this noble affectation:

the printed page—

staging this one-man parlay into realms once charted by sages, tentatively;

seeking to conjure, inward & outward, a gentler literal reality—

one that transcends the grating tug of reactionary noise;

honoring the sacred impulse to just sit… be… deeply breathe this moment— (split infinitive be damned)

& let the moral weight fall where it may

with this scrit, here— on display— in a quiet degree of preparation. * 5/1 - lebuc - degrees of preparation

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façade

* after intense study of more than a few criminal types i’ve deduced that i need a new occupation;

a shield if you will - camouflaging my true, illicit activity

under cover of a façade.

i think i’ll become a first world government.

…the possibilities are endless. * (until i become so wealthy and brazen i throw the shield away)

* 12/14 - 4/25 - lebuc - façade

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letter to mao mom

* in a letter, i meant to type ‘mom’ and typed 'mao’.

it’s just an innocent coincidence - i think…

or it could have been a freudian slip of remarkable significance, once i reflected on the parallels:

mom often felt responsible for all of us from birth to death,

as did mao;

he said he only wanted what was best for his people,

as did mom;

she expected us to obey her implicitly,

as did mao;

he did not tolerate rebellion against his edicts,

as did mom;

she was showing love in the best way she knew how,

as was mao;

he was preparing his people to live in the cold, cruel world,

as did mom;

her teachings were simple to follow from a child’s perspective,

as was mao’s;

but became increasingly difficult to accept on faith as we matured,

as was mom’s,

she didn’t have an easy time letting us go out on our own,

as mao;

& in later years he had to face the fact that there would be a rebellion to his methods & coup attempts seeking to kill him in the process.

no effing way we would ever do such a thing to our mom! d'ya think we’re crazy or something?

i’m done here - you can go now, hmph. * 3/15 - 4/25 - lebuc - letter to mao mom

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gradient

* elements born of ochre-toned soil combine, animate & evolve as a singular, sentient self in a watery cradle

until exposure to the crisp, bracing air of the world without

inflates & escapes wee lungs in an nascent bawl…

so it goes, cradled, nurtured by a thermal canary-yellow sun, earth's rain cycle

learning, growing, flowering, so to speak; observing, recording, imitating…

to navigating terra-formed folk of blue mood, jade inflected minds weaned on red arts of passion, rage & warring factions every level & sphere.

but buds remembering their elemental roots, above & beyond all other mentalities;

know their reality is spiritual, essential, eternal, unique & of light - spectral. * 4/25 - lebuc - gradient

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how loud the lightning

* how loud the lightning that lifts away freedoms; as loud as a pillow’s bellow  we scarcely hear until too late. in a feather’s roar  apologies are offered, a tiny-toned tale of terror in a whisper, if at all. with mighty mouths do the brazen bray to divert our gaze onto another play while the lightning strikes by the ‘right’ of way cleave a silent chasm into our brighter day. * 10/18 - 4/25 - lebuc - how loud the lightning

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this paradigm shifting

* this latest paradigm shifting, a sign of impending strife

or is it simply grifting & dismissing with the honed end of a pointed knife, moving forward

to that which most of us deem untoward:

rewarding those already hoarding the largess the rest of us would otherwise possess, in the best of times;

unnecessitating this crest of rhymes attesting to such, brinking on the verge of being too much in a surge of reflective thinking & hopefully not too much drinking to assuage the pain, draining the will to do naught but sit still - but then, again until we decide strategically to pay the bill, since we drank from freedom's cup near-filled to the tip-top from the bottom up;

for now, there remains but a few sips in our view which could be mistaken for a 'mourning' type dew by its scarcity & the tragedy of its taking

should our purview remain waning & shaking, unstirred - at this occasion of a dream deferred upon waking, by huns at the helm, or should i say curs…

& the dream train once on track, now deterred by those who wish to tack, take back what we preferred to remain a part of the terrain - laid, paved & trod in halting, but not faltering paces

reflecting an evident pride on our faces for making this faux-merited space* a home for many a creed & race, even at a stuttering pace in yet segregated homes comparatively degraded.

if truly meant, what was written in a document of note of which many were & are still smitten, still harboring hope that we'd fulfill its lilting words' heft

with the spirit of those not yet bereft of curds of courage to face the bellowing herds heralding a purge of persons at the flick of foul words; who parse their prounouns, nurse the verb 'to be', & verse the adjective 'inclusively' cursively, not curtly; who deny & dismiss a woeful missal to homogenize, neutralize & ostracize as unoffical

some good folk - in an stunning reversal of DEI, where all 'outside the pale' need not apply - joke/no joke.

already fatigued of the flack upon the redux & the mess the rest of his back-slapping crew promote clearly & hotly, in a spirit quite mottley ( a snickering doge, 'f you get the reference/pun )

…& frankly, that's all i gottly, this here traipse around the sun. * 4/25 - lebuc - this paradigm shifting (...it's reigning men - hold the hallelujahs)

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buds

* seasoned beings adjust, because seasons 'do' change.

winds howl in thundering summer storms; autumnal angst amplifies leaves gone awry; severe snow drifts abound in blizzarding beats; & squalls annoy spring's expectant onlookers.

irrespective, irregardless buds carry on - budding - as is their wont.

…'til next time, buds. * 3/25 - lebuc - buds

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homeward (quieted hearts)

* night serves its patina'd noir platter with a side of mist - chilled - in a forshadowy broth;

amber streetlights taunt midnight blue skies into a revelation, a trite tableau, uncovered for this onlooker’s very own eyes.

at this time of hollowed hearing, each evening’s discrete event solos a sonic imprint of its persona in a shade, a tinge, a quirk of soul, if you will: a tire skid on graveled pavement under construction nearby brays brusque & insistently;

the doppler effect of a freight train’s whistle  doles in a reticence - wistful, but compelled.

the massive multi-engine roar of a Southwest jet, headed for Midway airport chuffs haughtily & confident thru crisp cirrus’d night air;

the cool, damp maple leaf crunch underfoot, insouciant & unavoidable in its musky mink of multi-amber, muffle the parsed pulses of hearts a tad too quieted; meeting, pondering reveries in parallel,  purposefully walking - homeward.

* 11/15 - 2/25 - lebuc -  homeward (quieted hearts)

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T-cell

* micro-bio-socio-logic

compels this lit-munization against what’s shown to debilitate hope, destabilize reason & a justifiable  carriage in the world * moments like this  mark the opportunity to promote & pursue what elevates us, creating possibilities of vistas as expansive as we can envision * we should vaccinate our viscous viewpoints against persuaders who seek to  subjugate our souls to serve them;  in such a servility, we’d no longer be able to perceive who or what we live & are fighting for * let this serve to signal our DNA...  DO NOT ALLOW on a cellular level  this antibody, to any & everybody who'd succumb to the insinuation said to attack even those 'living well' within our nation: * the T-cell * ...about which i shall now desist. ( lest i become infected  & even more pissed ) * 7/18 - 3/25 - lebuc - T-cell *yeah, that one...

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energize & glow up

* big fish swallow whole any small fry gets in the way & day by day the meglo's get swole;

with a so-narrow path to glow-up 'cept at their own peril, like Pauline in the old funnies for most indie bunnies, should you blow up;

here, there - traversing curses, bad commercials & tokenship dispersals from a sow's ear to a silk purse in reverse, but ...it could be worse.

you could be denied any role in a cast; no lines, no credits, a hole in your ship's ballast & no Dutch boy's thumb to plug up the gap,

no wharf, no scarf or feather for your cap, no fine weathered friends to tuck you in for a nap;

your dinghy's adrift or on two feet of snow, in an icy current's whisk with an undertow - itsa no-go.

‘cept one day you'll start to realize no one’s coming to rescue, to no great surprise; you'll have to become captain of your own fate, your savoir faire keying the golden gate;

despite this rhyming toward triteness, ( you know that i'm right ) might sometimes gets frightened in a one-on-one fight.

so pick & pop roadblocks - one jab at a time; grab an steady bystander to hold onto the line 'fore your high-flying leap thru the wind, off the ledge of trepidation & doubt, no hemming or hedge; to find one day soon you're at a filling station gassed up, classed up with a reservation for yourself, your cute boo ( or two - you do you ) for a damned exhilarating rendezvous.

all because you dared grasp hold of a self-powered line & the shock of it all is... you’re still feeling just fine. * 1/23 - 3/25 - lebuc - energize & glow up

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daylight savings

* spending all my savings on our precious daylight

in service of some flexing, some small measure of might;

in the very best way that i've come to know how so long as i never stand pat or kowtow to purveyors of prevailing privations or resort to crude & shrill braying, delivering etudes in quill - these amplitudes i've been spraying

of a particular mood, dispensing chez verses & rhymes like good ol' soul food, about the worst of these times;

for those in need of a heart-healthy snack, should it not be sufficient, make sure you tack back.

though it's rough sometimes - i must mention, i know that & ofttimes the best of blessed intentions can fall flat

but, like that fabled Timex watch of old i'll keep ticking in hopes that these messages, lit-massaged keep clicking & sticking,

to help untie kinks in our systems (o)pressing on most us dear minions; 'cause of greed, poor thinking, not listening to vox populi , who're unshrinking; boots on the ground, increasingly sound & surprisingly spry...

when excited & engaged to keep fighting for peace;

& in our effort to ignite good factions, may we never, ever cease. * 3/24 - 3/25 - lebuc - daylight savings

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Happy Birthday to Me! * Peace & Love to You. * Thank you all for your well wishes, Tumblrinos! *

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life truly lived

* a life truly lived will give you the right

to say 'pah' to the privileged, ah - to the underrepresented’s plight;

it grants some perspective, poise & elan, an upscale of game, hipness to the con

beneath the invectives, drama & grift & unlike the Keef, ix-nay to mischief.

you sense a perceiver behind the facade, transversed family curses, your iditarod;

no dope to the slippery sloping of hope that has fools in its grip like the inverse of soap

in hands that demand ever more grand delusions, effusive praise to the whores of confusion.

when one's truly lived, it makes one thing clear, there's no magic carpet to fly you 'there' from right here;

you'll have to have foresight, a modicum of luck & reverence to more than just making a buck

good goals worth your while, some stops 'long the way to assess your progress, largess to parlay

in smiles by the kilo, or a couple of miles; if'n you do it right, you may retire in style. * 8/21 - 2/25 - lebuc - life truly lived