The wombat cried to the sloth to watch the two lovers in the tree where he usually eats his leaves.  The sloth didn’t mind…creation happens and anything in that tree in this life was simply for the sake of existence, he thought.

A pastry turns into fat.  Softens the tight image but helps a creature stay warm in changing climates.  Clocks spring forward and spring clocks the evolution of more time.

To everything…turn turn turn.

Feces is a beautiful poem of the meaning of life.  It is wholly the present, foul smelling and cleansing.  Yet, also all of the food of the world, both the past that has been ingested and the future soon to be created from it.

Perception:  The sky is the land for the bird.  Ain’t no need to growl at the arctic wind…She is who She is.

Just then, the writer took his pen, watched what was able to be witnessed, and slashed his new pants with his pen.  He stared at the ink bled through tan canvas, Silly how we try to keep so clean in a world made of dirt.  He laughed at the irony of becoming soiled by what gives him life.

Jesus loves Popeye, and God loves spinach…what beautiful collusion.

Hippies dance for peace and receive wrath because of their strength, and the ships still float on top of water, just as our feet never could.

Meanwhile, uptown is west of downtown, which is north and a man might survive war but be strangled to death by a guitar string, .2286mm.

Proud of our consumption yet?

Muhammad proclaimed jihad in the holy book yet Christians have killed more than inhabit the earth in the name of unconditional love so why fear the peace of Buddha?  The bugs do not care, neither do the other planets.  A tree will still be a tree.  The sun will always be nourishing violence, tumbleweeds tumble, redundancy redunancing…All language is created so make new words whenever possible.  Be proud.

“Let me out of this glass house…Stones refuse to smash these windows.  They know the broken glass will become stone to sand to glass and they will destroy their ancestors no more!”

Check the message.  Life is silly.  Stop trying.  The sloth don’t give a shit because it all just happens.

 

 

 

 

af

 

 

 

 

(written with pen on paper)