do you guys like to see nature get expert?
i do too.
i had SO many peaches at the start of the season.
little green nubs that held so much promise.
like so many many other promising parts of really real life,
most of them dried up, fell off, and were lost as time passed by.
the focus of the tree;
bough and limb and leaf and root;
was, and is, now fully focused on those that remain.
two succulent treats are far sweeter than none.
check the ripening-type teleport:
but i also want the fruit to be ready for plucking.
time takes time.
and patience is what virtuous viking abide.
no sense in plundering half-grown goods after all.
butt-hurt and butting heads-
am i more like the butt of a gun,
or the butt of a joke.
one is the least important part of a lethal mechanism,
the other integral to the cruel mirth of others.
the joke needs a butt, but the bullets don't.
i could add stability to function and accuracy,
or i could just as easily be the target for other kinds of shots.
or am i just being clever because i woke up on the downside
of the bed, and far too early, at that?
as it turns out,
more often than not, i'm neither.
i'm actually just like the butt of a cigarette.
the used-up and burnt-out remains of fairly-warned
and fully-filthy indulgence.
a remainder reminder of dirty things done that are bad for you.
i rep a hard style when it comes to self-perceptions.
it could be too much weakerthans and mountain goats.
wimpy-voiced smart and sad songs on my speakers activating
some kind of self-effacing/self-deprecating/self-immolating/self-loathing.
maybe i'm just trying to be clever for it's own sake?
that could be just as true...
i reeeeally like butts.
that's a thing, too.
real talk for your faces?
i just want to be of use.
what's the bigger picture we're looking at?
all these bits and pieces, part and parcel, scraps, shreds, orts, and pearls
i've amassed inside my head are being made into massive kaleidoscopic mosaics
of information and experience, spirit and memory, words and pictures.
it's the accumulation of all of it that i'd like to put to some function.
i've got a head full of true stories,
i've got two heavy hands full of teeth,
and i've got a heart beating bass-boosted hot fire.
all of it is leading somewhere, building towards something,
storing up to shower someone with every single spark...
it's been a weird day already.
and it's still morning.
it is all really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....