Fields of Butter

 

11707639_10153437507115688_7881924099625583889_nPhoto Credit: Susan Butterfield all rights reserved.

Fields of Butter

As time churned,
the ethos never marginalized.
A backdrop of the lonely mountain
over looks the garden growing
on the butter fields.
The sun shines – then goes off to a distant realm.
Alas, for one last time in an echo of shadow.
The fade to black covers the green grass exotics with a spread of integrity.
As a wise-man turns to dust.
A wind gust.
The supernatural blows from the east to the west.
Against a Patagonia chest.
And,
if you looked closely,
at the right angle,
you could see the sunlight piercing through the apparition with ease.
Like the serrated edge of a knife cutting through butter.
All of a sudden,
there it was,
shinning in its glory…
A spectral stream of the “Star of David”,
spreading the recognition of peace and kindness,
to all that were willing to take the time to see.

Freshly brewed just for you.  © 2019 Jfreshly Modern Linguistics Song Blog. All Rights Reserved.

I wrote this in honor of David Butterfield.  We met while traversing through the town of Arenal in Costa Rica.  He was a great man.  A spiritual man.  A thoughtful man.  A well spoken man.  He had great taste in jackets.

This poem also comes with the biggest virtual hug that one’s imagination could possibly muster.

For “The Shaman of Hugs”.
In accordance with lots of love.

Your Friend,
Jfreshly.

 

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Trapped Wanderer

Trapped Wanderer

Time is water

Body is rock

A finger is pricked

The bleed is the ink

A dried out Echo-Sketch (for ages 35 and up)
The Equation explained
Patterns of thought
Eroded on marble
Defining the permeability of soul
Impossibilities still the current
Passage denied
Occupancy of the vessel
Created by anonymous
Constricted to the anatomy
The escape was all in vein

 

© 2017 Jfreshly Modern Linguistics Song Blog. All Rights Reserved.

Whom created human and why have they not shown themselves?  This poem is about the internal struggle to make contact with those that passed down the code of DNA via “the puppet strings”.  The muse in this poem has spent his life in jest formulating ideas based on the unknown.  When X is unsolvable madness can ensue.  If you don’t believe me keep reading through this blog.  Namaste.

 

 

 

Banana Trap

d-20

Banana Trap

The world is a barrel full of
Oxygen tan lines
That Masquerade as
Monkey panty-mimes
Fluid motions of congruent influence exerted
When the muscles relax
Take a nap on a bed of roses
Let the recurring nightmare activate the trap
Fall into the awakening
D-20’s instead of neckties
Ren & Stimpy T-shirts instead of the proper button downs
Sweat pants instead of khakis
Once your pockets are laced
With algebraic numerical devices
Take a look in the mirror
Zonked out of the gourd
Sight beyond sight
To such great heights
Use google maps at advantageous angles
To find a parked clown car
In the concrete jungle
On the corner of Baltimore and Fate
Like minded orangutans roll dice
They play for the real
They play for fate
They all know the stakes
Could someone please
Pass me a banana
I’m a hungry

© 2015 Jfreshly Modern Linguistics Song Blog. All Rights Reserved.​

The chronicle of Zansabar The Great

pyramidstouse

This life beckons

A culmination of mishaps

Solemn simulacrum follows the crop rotation

On the mission of a land grant

The tax is real

Even if the seismic assault may be the end of us

Ancients wondered if the spirit of the dinosaur had endured

Metaphysical energy transfer

Surely somewhere in the symbiotic H2O

Reminiscence of their god particle still exists

The park was Jurassic

In a dimension before our inception

We were once just an idea

Founded by the principle of extraterrestrial

Around the time of Pharaohs

© 2014 Jfreshly Modern Linguistics Song Blog. All Rights Reserved.​