Chapter to an informed, See Reader:

Thirty tracks of Freedom hit my dome on a single night, straight through and into eternity i inserted my hand, had prayer Holy Spirit to be. Pleasantly i tried my hand at mystic music for one. Nothing out of ordinary time, just beyond space, spun my mind like a helix. Earlier today i tracked a few more piano and drum hallway, deep inner hallway sounding sort of walk. I felt most the artists who made their own language for a world of everybody’s else’s and so into eternity i wrote.

Wrote an essay,


Interior Politic:

This is essay on interior politic. Politely i’ll ask the reader please excuse my philanthropic proclovision to an internal world i all too often inhabit and in this world interior of love i exclude nobody, i love everybody, welcome arrivals in love, proclaiming beauty eternal in rose in hand in hand dancing with friends for life, the good joy of life: politics and violence and vampires play on in my mind on my phone, its round-a-bout an early autumn season weekday early morning at round-a-bout one am and i’m seat to sit and watch my hand move and how as the old antiqued checker table shakes back and forth with it, with it; with my thoughts on how in solitude i truly locate the true capital of life, God is alive, life to the most beautiful beat of heart coming back around to the part of the song where our saving is in christ redeemer, who’d spoke devotion, the father, forgiving and just lover of the soul. 


Spiritual, political, have you academic merit i’d say the words i put on a page exhibit a language in a world all my own. 

Of course I, I find tilted my human axis to spiritual straight to the Spirit who intercedes Holy accolyte in a leaf drift like my mind being fluid as the ink spilling sweet and sappy from the pen of thee.

Perchance id speak not so nonchalantly. I’d wrote whatever gonna make me rich, sunrises fill my bank, i’ve got colors from saint rose through and through. Anyway, id written; perchance i’d write three novels or more in twenty-twenty. This is number three (name to be determined free of will, free will), two is Headlights. One is Blue Hour. I wrote in my philosophy class my dream to be with my family, my forever tribe to say i’m just inking a love ocean like a squid.


Lately i’m painting on burlap, incase you’d wondered what the sea needs in just the sound of a ladies name who’d name i disclosed inbefore the last in in this sentence. Shit. I dont know what i’m writing. Its all about one love. Who can cut soul tie. Tell me will you?


I lean back, wood chair, it creaks, i sip coffee, someone thinks, could life be this good?


Yes. I write in return to a blue eye. A hello, a proper goodbye.

You cried and whatfor? Whatforelse we live but for through a door of love; and, for love i live. I live for love. Love her well. Love God. 

I’m listening: ‘You get insecure, i wish i had more wisdom for ya, brother all that bullshit it just makes you stronger, it made me stronger.’ Aint shit in the world can stop me plays in my head, phones not even playing no more’ i think about everything’ on this song Florida.


In my gold hoodie i’m warm, a poet with a deep pocket, rocket the universal trope of a mere days passing, whoops rope of a brain. 


See orion’s stringing constellations, star to star, how far can she see, can you go for love? How near? How much do you love, both in beauty and on quality and on quantity? Does it have to make sense? Oh geez, anyway this is interpersonal politics, who’s left the pen to page day going on into day in the most mundane of exhilaration in this nation, everybodies been isolated but even for a bit and at large the country of commonwealth is still love, peace still politic. Its this days on end, days on end. One nation united within by God, i mean you well, immanuel.

Outside, having slept, dreamed mystic of her, in midday sun now and super in my own head i halted no thought at finding a prehistoric bird, large, long golden beaked, red and white shapes below the eye, a dazzle glistening in that bird in my backyard’s eye.


I gave it a whistle call, it hopped and did a quick sort of a calm fly to the mauve-rust and white weathered unwatered water fountain; stood calmly, wings tucked into streaks of sienna and beige and yellow ochre feathers, looking into my looking from this funny looking bird.


‘Hey magic bird, i said. Nonchalantly like carried on my false hallucination to an actual word i’m really living? Though still i believe i may not have awoke from my near-death impact experience awoke rather by a new living world: one life of love in God. 



Today is the presidential election so i paint and i write like i do everyday. I tell my baby i love her, i’d love to see her eye in eye. Eyes of ours reconcile at memory having once seen universes coalesce not collide in each other’s eyes at the old coffee shop smelling like coffee and kiss and the occasional stoge and like any coffee shop i’d been often present on account of that rule that at a coffee shop at any given time in this space, there is an artist presently living their art. 


So was i, happened to stumble into prehistoric happenstance of feathered time’s all wack-a-doo wackamole at me-oh-my mind gets carried away with the drifts of fluffy pillow clouds of purple, i’d rather be beside and forever reside in bed with she, she’s got me like every autumn.


I notice the season. I give my voice to politic, love and elation to a people, this nation; cast your hand in deep waters and from what ocean or spring you drink, swim or fish be sure to that source you will receive.


I don’t eat minnows, I know no shallow waters. I’m all for prehistoric whales and metaphor, got stories like Jonah, lyricsl rafts sized with Noah’s faith, i’ve a good God who’s got me, i’m psalm sweet as heart of God and love for the lady in moonlight, soldiering in the faith on a kingdom like david at the pen in my scribbled head, i’m a blank page, hearing david harp; holy, holy, holy, and lonely, lonely, lonely; that clay of my mold breaking into forever life at hallelujah.


Angles rimmed with gold lining, angels divining, and choir bells resound; they hear it now; no new nation under divide, lincoln log a house to stand once in truth, dream a black and white child hand in hand, hancock your letter to a nearer future, bright as autumn’s sun, deep as the ocean’s asunder, lyrical as academia will have you believe, be more than that, the nonchalant spoken tribe and tribal tongue of life and breath for our declaration of freedom. I’ve seen every kind of freedom. In a land where at least i know i’m free, my mind; where i can be singing sweet, bathing in heavens temple water, harping with cherubim and them, a nod to christ the saving mercy, an act of sure love. I can be singing sweet melodies with the birds at sunrise, skies all golden and blue, a green grass patch that ain’t no st. rose mountain or milk and honey stream, and still it’s holy, natural altogether; still i can’t believe that bird. Still i feel love will live on. I believe you will too.

Day of my days carried on, my lyric beset me be speaking from the mountain peak of solitude still. Still i got my school work done, watered my bonsai, fed myself two fresh eggs and a couple keto bars today, few sets of yoga, wrote in morning, wrote another time or apart time listening to always written free will, favor me this expenditure to an essay on free will. For this is essay on free-will. What was on the page before i got to it, i am constillator of points to the end of sentences. Sincerely hear me when i speak: every word is nonfiltered for love, yes love, you make me think about the good times, good time and apart the clocks, tick and tock i talked on giving praise to God, Grand Creator for keeping me to life and i have purpose, fulfilment in that i am saved both in body and soul in sovereign, that is serendipitous, that is more than coincidence, that is it, the good of God in action in you.



There are all sorts of things to write about and duplex a lieu on favorable philosophics, new religions on the same old devotion, have me a new language, so heard the love trumpet blare in my head, leaned into my body swaying to a beat i knew as though i’d always known and would know that howsoever anxious, pie after pie, death, life after death, eternity, really living your life is in appreciating life. Have fun.