the big action.

have ya'll ever noticed how,
whenever you've got to make moves of the major-league variety,
every single person you've ever met
has some kind of two-bit advice on how to do it the right way?
and it always starts with:
(drawing oneself up and puffing up like a preening grouse)
"what I would do is...."
except they probably wouldn't,
because they haven't yet....
c'mon,
seriously.
i mean,
i actually do ask a few people about the right way to doo-doo the freakiest sh!t,
and even then,
only because i have the utmost respect for that very select few of the worthiest warriors.
but why would anyone ever wonder what the battle-plan is from just 'some dudes'?
of course,
those are the folks who always have some latent desire to be dope,
but only the vaguest notion of what dopeness even is.
naturally, therefore,
they've just GOT to tell you about it.
unsolicited, yet still volunteered information and opinion is about as welcome
as a savage gypsy side bicycle kick to the left ear.
i'm trusting in three things, ninjas;
-the secret universal plan looking out for it's very own lancelot of the woodsly goodness;
-the sound groundwork laid down by those dudes who've already done it,
and done it right;
and last but most importantly,
-the get-busy berserker barbarian battle-beastly bring-the-noise results of hard-ass work.
big moves, on each and every front line of the good fight.
yeah.
may day is the big day,
by then we'll be relocated, in so many ways.
i am grateful for the time i've been granted in the places i've spanned it in....

i painted so many little medallions and moths yesterday,
but,
i also managed to get some problematic poison in my pee-hole, too.
yep.
all that root beer caused a little distress and destruction,
and it's sugar-free cranberry juice for me until it clears up......
nice.
but then again,
isn't that always how it works?:
the things we enjoy the most are always the ones that break us the worst.
just ask anyone i (we) know.
toothachy-breaky bicyclists,
frustrated photographers,
pizza-makin' travelers,
fractured family guys,
woodsly werewolfen warrior poets....
it's another 'nother universal fact.
that's just a side-effect of really real lives lived furiously, though.
i'm sippin' weak-sauce until i'm ready to return to fight the good fight.
i'm walkin' into the fray,
every day, in every way,
loud, and hard,
knowing full well that every victory comes with a crucial cache of consequence.
the better i do, the more it hurts.
without the bitter, mutha-uckas,
and without the sweet,
we're just another set of lame-cake waterbabies.
just be dopeness forbids any other actions, ya'll;
never quiet, never soft...