When the leaves come out to play
11, 6, 17
When the leaves come out to play, Georgie Porgie runs away, while the others of us might for the duration, stay!
The Agora was calling unto me, draining Winnebagos.
The Wolf let me off the hook, set me free with his explicit commentary on just about everything. He wasted no time, & above all wanted Nothing. As Nothing was every where, we just didn’t notice it, as much as we could, like so many other things, we do not notice. Like, what lies behind a smile.
The Wolf & I sprang into action when there was little & less hope of resolving problems of insurmountable unaccountability, from those we had found trust worthy.
To trust was a condition of a mark left on a chalk board of lofty heights.
Unknown wanderings came to march behind us, for the shadows were creeping in. Which became our very own beliefs. Our beliefs turned into ghosts from the past, that followed us around relpaying each & every cast.
The shadows wore their mighty crowns, they followed us all around town, they danced & sang as shadows might, filling us with their mighty fright, with lillies & livers, & down your spine shivers. These shadows had no quips about eating anything you’d would deliver, like, things from the past as shadows they did cast, & misgivings, bad mouthing just about anything, & taking things personally, was an all time fave, as the shadows they did rave, of course, always outstanding, dillusions would enslave, your mind, your body, & your love.
Coming down on the wings of a dove, were just some of the things, the things of love. Or white horses flying off hill tops, just in time your mind to stop, the disillusions of every day life.
Certainly was no crime. And full of those they certainly were! My friends, my friends, let us no more pretend that we are free from hypocracy, predictability, accountability, hostility, a distillery, & when it all came down to the frown, the shadows would turn you upside down, inside out, with out a doubt.
(and did you know that being a ghost has a lot to do with their belief system in life & how they died?)
The shadows crept in with the large amounts of homeless humans, walking about with their sleeping bags, searching for more sleep, in days when sleep was running short or running scared. Such are the things, night mares are made on.
Girl, “Well, that’s a good one, great in fact, confirming all ideas of belief systems, hovering around us, like ghosts in sacks of belief systems.”
Wolf, “ That is the thin & the thick of it, seeing is believing, as they say, or is it, What we see is what we usually a manifestation of our own belief systems, not necessarily true.
To really discern what we believe, would be remarkable for humans, to view in anther light.
When the chipmunks came through with some motley stew, mostly for me, mostly for you, calling motley stew, coming from the inside of a witches shoe, a mesmerizing, brew. Wanting to step inside of you, in order to launch another hue.
Mon Nov. 6, 2017
Wait, at Heavens gate! The woman was trapped waiting in the foye’ of her own fate. She waited for her own terror to subside, even though others thought she was absurd. She often replayed her childhood traumas, again & again. A type of hell, if you will. It just happened like pennies dropping from the sky, why, why would they be played & replayed, like old movies, as marchers of light, marched on.
Girl, “Wouldn’t you get tired of this recurring night mare. It was more like a day mare.”
Wolf, “They are unresolved issues.”
Girl, “ Just how do you resolve them?”
Wolf, “Trap yourself in an elevator of ill fated fate. Going up then down, doors open, when in steps your perp, pety tyrant, & there you are in terror all over again.
At this time, the chipmunks brought in some towels & tea for the girl of ill fated day mares.
Girl, “I should like to hang in a terrarium all day & at night walk about stealthily, in darkness cloaked.
“ Wolf, “That might be just a lovely endeavor,” he quickly spouted forward.
The witches from Heavenrich began a cocophany of a throusand $ refund. They waited as sirens went off, to seal the fate of the magistrate of yore, while gypsies snored in molasses & Turkish wild boar. The witches came down from Heaven today, displaying all manner of curiosity, mainly for the girl who could twirl, for they were delaying their own fate, something that came of late. Shhhhh they spired, you musn’t tell those who want to know, anything more than what you already have, expounded the first green witch, garlanded in leaves of light, poppies of mhyrr. She expounded, “Heavenrich may become the new poster child, when all questions are put to rest, by the unquest of impossible things, beating in hearts of gold.”
The witches simply spoke this way & that was all there was to it. “Uncanny,” commented the Wolf, When in the realm of impossible things, we learned that there was nothing impossible.