Pears-Shake on a holographic Fruit Tree

meditation-tips

 

 

 

 

 

A mirror of reflection hosts a pond of lilies.

Jagged rock eroded by time becomes smooth.

The great philosophers stone.

Currents of energy focus the meditation.

The mantra.

The almighty “Om”

Medium of the spirit.

As the Earth rotates,

an endless vibration occurs,

at the rate of constant.

Where are we going?

Someone is showing me the way but I’m not walking.

I have questions that need answers.

I hear voices no one’s talking.

Ticktock clock stops flowing.

Karma lines been broken down.

Kneel before him.

The shaman with no name.

© 2016 Jfreshly Modern Linguistics all rights reserved.

 

Questions asked by the fool.

  1. Are the dead grateful now that they have Mr. Garcia?
  2. Should you be Leary of men named Tim offering sugar cubes?
  3. Is it wrong to say “Betelgeuse” three times to gain entrance into the Netherworld?
  4. How about Candyman? (Not a chance…Dude was Scary as #@%$)
  5. If a poet streams his consciousness on a blog and no one reads it does it really exist?

These conundrums were philosophized Thoreaughly by a poet traversing the wilderness.

 

 

 

Writer’s Cock

Jack

Writer’s Cock

My brain is a zombie that feeds off words
which tends to daydream of signs that read
“Do Not Disturb”.
In moments of animalistic literary thought
basic instincts which can’t be taught.
Body parts prepare to show affection.
In laymen terms I believe it’s called a “Fear Erection”.
I’ve got one for that perfect sequence.
To prove I’m no jargon delinquent.
Drink a cup of wine and proceed to laugh.
The words morph into an image of a woman’s ass.
Maybe next week I’ll sit down to write.
Pen something really tight.
For now it’s all in my head
to obtain perfection is to pretend.

© 2016 Jfreshly Modern Linguistics all rights reserved.

Billie Goat

Billie Goat

I have sinned
The say’in goes
Sinners can’t be saints
So I’ll dance the night away
A country fate
Blue grass billies
Dance on the hill
It’s never just the wind
A fragrance of violins
Blankets a field of Patagonian land lovers
That sit in unison to the vibe of kinship
Steel mugs filled until the process of froth
Brewed on the mountain tops named Sierra
That pale in contrast
To the magnificence of folk music
Delivered in the luxury of a warm breeze
© 2016 Jfreshly Modern Linguistics all rights reserved.