We have fleas.
I have no clue
from where (?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!).

My house is so clean.

But is life not a series of injustice?.

I'm so in love it's hard to focus on the fleas.

I'm more concerned about my outfit

The world sits on its thought, naked,
And tomorrow is a festival show of shame,
I smell salt dancing on my nostrils as
Flesh and bones dangle from the tender of my strength.
The people here are not jovial,
They dance slowly, beating away hands from their heads.
Drums and cymbals are silent as there's no rain to clap their buttocks,
The universe is mad, and there's no bride to live his happiness.
There's an exit staring through the walkway, crawling for salvation,

Scrambling for space with humans
The weaverbirds strive to wrestle space
Having been dislodged from their homes
(in the Forest)
They swam in the market places
On basins and baskets
Snatching grains of rice and wheats,
fearlessly....

With bamboos and brooms
Men hurry and harry
Hauling stone and curses at the plumes
While the feathers dance to and fro
ceaselessly...
On basins and baskets
For their LAST meals
Before the requiem tolls for ALL

In the rhythm
the gentle pace
that is meant to be
the presence
the here and now.

Not even thinking
just feeling
and using your emotions.
Slowly
Gently
Calmly
And still reaching your destination.

Moving
Floating
in a dreamlike state
but still aware.

No particular purpose
just the being.
Very serene
and status quo.
Not even asking questions.
Not even alert.
Just there.

In the rhythm
the gentle pace
that is meant to be
the presence
the here and now.

Not even thinking
just feeling
and using your emotions.
Slowly
Gently
Calmly
And still reaching your destination.

Moving
Floating
in a dreamlike state
but still aware.

No particular purpose
just the being.
Very serene
and status quo.
Not even asking questions.
Not even alert.
Just there.

In the rhythm
the gentle pace
that is meant to be
the presence
the here and now.

Not even thinking
just feeling
and using your emotions.
Slowly
Gently
Calmly
And still reaching your destination.

Moving
Floating
in a dreamlike state
but still aware.

No particular purpose
just the being.
Very serene
and status quo.
Not even asking questions.
Not even alert.
Just there.

In an attempt to recount how life came about on planet Earth,
thence subsequently spanning across the webbed wide world
birthed cockamamie idea within mind of then young Matthew
Scott Harris, who knew nothing about Charles Darwin Origin
of Species controversial revolutionary annunciation with much
excitation videre licet painstakingly slow process of evolution,
where over the course of billions of years origin of life became
as told to him tongue in cheek courtesy his kibitzing father and

Every time a storm ends
It’s like the world is born again
I’m watching the clouds drift away
To an old country song
Playing in my head

I’m thinking of every single time
I had thought my life was over
Only to come back stronger than ever
After the clouds drifted away

There’s a difference, I think
The streets themselves seem to breathe
And it seems like within my soul
Some door that had been shut tight
Has been unlocked
And the air can flow freely
Once again

There is green, green grass
Over the wide, wide hill
We have legs to run
Like the wild, wild wind

Go, my brother!
Fly, my sister!
Let's chase the summer sun
Dream, my brother!
Sing, my sister!
Day is calling, and we are young

We have cool, cool water
And it is a hot, hot afternoon
There is shade to offer
Beneath this tall, tall tree

Amen to all men and women that birth the children off eternity, generations yet to come possible because of the countless
That have gone before in concession

Humanity has illuminated Earth, but hearts
Have turned cold respect seems all but dead except for the faithful, too many are
Hateful and greedy putting self first always

People killing for fame what a shame on society who give it to them through the media who ruled by the elite purposely done for power and sickening greed