drops and ruddy

Pain it blossoms pure and bright as I there sit and hold my fright and hold my twitching keeping small my sweaty drips and ruddy pall. There is much that I can take except the cruelty others make but now I'm learning not to look for faults or errors when I'm shook. Breathing deeply, staying calm, reveling in swazi's balm, I want for nothing but my peace and my sadnesses to decrease. This I must do, this I will, not with potion or with pill but rather with my steady breath and letting go till nothing's left. As it sit here watching vids while outside shriek the neighbors' kids while inside there is much hot heat that stalls my efforts to complete the process started long ago when I sat lonely in the snow. All is changing night and day so I will lock my mouth up tight and keep opinions to myself to maintain sanity and health.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

through quarters cramped

I've been to some death-camps and seen some mass graves into which were hurled chucked tossed innocent slaves; I've stood in the oven rooms smelling their reek and wandered through quarters cramped barren and bleak. The stories and tales of Survivors I've heard; did soak lap and sponge up each soft quiet word; did stand before mountains of shoes and shorn locks; did witness the stolen gold teeth and arm-clocks. I've been to Jerusalem's own Yad Vashem, examined the causes from which hatred stems, examined the lessons that our past imparts and struggled to understand cold callous hearts. This world we now live in is once again filled with racist small-minded and misguided swill – we see it in Europe and in the U. States where there are hot heated and brutal debates. These are though concerning the Islamic creed and ask if for tolerance there is still need and ask if the people who've made it their own should be whipped and murdered or just left alone. I know not the answers, my mind is too small, my intellect lacking in due wherewithal, I will though say one thing then leave well alone: Let he who's not sinned pick and cast the first stone.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

from the start

With a lukewarm greeting and hardly a wave there swept in a rakish and dastardly knave. He knocked over dishes and upset a cart and swore at the helpers and staff – from the start. His clothes they were made of the finest of threads and he quick demanded the softest of beds and he quick devoured a soup meant for all who sat there nearby him him in our greeting hall. His stay quickly ended however when he did molest a young girl – a terrible deed – whose father'd been hired to keep us secure from outside intruders and rapacious curs. We'd endured his rudeness and his faulty ways (each human among us can choose what he says) but when he did force himself onto that lass the attending women joined to beat his ass. They hauled him straight out to the foremost courtyard and hit him with fist and foot and hit him hard and left him there bleeding and made a photo of his face and broadcast it so all would know that men such as him were not welcome no more to sit at our table or knock at our door.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

on whittling wood

Now back in the union of those 50 states do rage many arguments and hot debates that center and focus on this puny care: a ball thrown by athletes was lacking in air. A million plus people now pour out their souls and suffer while watching a game that's gone cold, and wail to the heavens and totally miss the fact that their government is killing kids. It seems to be easier to sit at home and throw away plastics and gnaw chicken bones than discard one's TV and do something good like perambulating or whittling wood. There's cops in the U.S. that shoot upon sight that long ago forgot to do what was Right that long ago forsake the oaths that they said – instead they rob trample shoot then leave for dead. Rather than to protest this dire growing threat most Ynki just sit down and stare at their sets, and guzzle down gallons of sugary goop that fattens their livers and makes their health stoop. So on with the ignorance, deep Truths be damned; just keep on consuming and pushing those prams and eating up all of the unfounded lies that dance and that flicker before greedy eyes.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

all healed but

The wounds have all healed but some scars still remain; at least we stand freed of our sorrow and pain. The end for all mortals does come sure and swift and death is a merciful burden-less gift. The light at the end of the tunnel is bright, it vanquishes sadness greed lust woe and night, it shines for each one of us, waits patiently; be not surprised when its lumens you see.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

quite simply neighbor

There is a new N-word that's going around and it is the toast and the talk of the town. It does not well rhyme with nag or nagger but might draw some ire and more than one dagger, at least one revolver and a sharpened saber – the word here in question is (quite simply) neighbor. Supplant it for the foul and noisome N-word that sticks in the craw and is not gladly heard, that offends the senses and increases tensions with which this our planet is now full enough. To speak this new saying takes chutzpah and guff and all types of similar honor-bound stuff so employ it sparingly if used at all when testing the waters and the wherewithal of strangers one comes across during the night, regardless of skin-tone or accent or height.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

footwork and spins

Now here is a challenge to girls boys and they who plan to go dancing tonight or today: develop some moves for dancing in tight places, when all one can see is not bodies but faces. Some people insist on throwing their arms out and kicking and twirling and moving about, but these selfsame people when tightly packed in with no room to show off their footwork and spins do find that they've only the spot where they stand to display their prowess – the talk of the land?! To dance without moving one's own feet around, to shake it as if one had roots in the ground, is so much more difficult than it might sound, indeed it's quite tricky (as many have found). Try bending the ankles and flexing the knees, the neck and the shoulders can do as they please, the elbows they should be kept close to the chest, the hips though can shake as can that buxom breast. By learning to dance without shifting the feet one wrests victory from the claws of defeat; one keeps right on going when all the rest cease to dance when they're faced with free-spacial decrease.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

(s) sounding (c)

Of names on this isle I have become fond – of Candi, Celuk, Canggu, and Cucukan. Instead of a soft or an (s) sounding (c), we in Indonesia pronounce it hard – tchay! – which was quite confusing to people like me, with practice though I've found it easy to say. There are many mysteries left in this land, I practice with locals as oft as I can, make errors and throw a few brief phrases out then laugh as they laugh at this man from without, this stranger who's come to their broad wave-swept shores, who samples their tongues and who joins in their mores. This ain't my first rodeo, that much is true, I have in the past learned a language or two, and used them to shock and impress local dames who after a while don't find me so lame. Mistakes are a given but people forgive, so choose deep within them to settle and live, to eat from the vendors who prowl through the streets and sample their home-made and spit-roasted treats. So off with the fetters and drive right on in, one cannot survive if one dares not to swim, to sit with the old men and share in their days, to learn of their foreign and curious ways.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

is yet small

The turmoil has settled, that once gripped his heart, that caused indigestion and many foul farts. Instead deep within him there burns a new flame that as of now has not been given a name – its heat is yet small, its existence unsure, through due patient sacrifice it gains tenure. Huzzah for this restart that comes on the heels of a whirlwind bender, of sauced hell-on-wheels; it is sorely needed to stop the practice of four nights a week getting horribly pissed. For such celebrations there are time and place, for sucking whole gallons of booze through the face, for waking up not knowing how one got home, for lapping up mountains of gold—studded foam. There is a strange science to just saying no – refusing to comply or go with the flow – but all one must do is remember the flame that after these months is now burning again.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

smugness and pith

The peers make good pressure, they pile it on, too bad of their presence I have become fond – if not I'd abandon (outright & forthwith) their churlish behavior, their smugness and pith. I know not to lay at their feet too much blame, for I all too willingly take up their game, instead of aligning myself with a crew of faces and tendencies unknown and new. It's hard for a man in this halcyon day to go it alone or to make his own way – he needs him a helpmeet and some good friends too, one without the other will simply not do. I know from the past not to sit by myself, for solitude strangely affects mental health, therefore I will accept love praise and adjust to all Fortune's whimsy, for in Her I trust.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

last therefore strike

An old year is ending, a new one begins, there's no time for sadness or for regretting things that did not happen, did not come to pass – such negative patterns were not built to last. Therefore strike a balance and give up what's old, what's stale or what feels like it's worthless and cold, what's not to the liking of forces within that call for compassion (not vodka or gin). The skies they are clearing and love's in the air, a greatness is coming, the weather's turned fair, the soul is eternal but all that that means is stay in the present and nurture your dreams. Here wishing a solid and happy new year to all friends and family far close and dear, may all the demands of these our mortal coils be tempered and lessened, understood and foiled.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥