naught and hard

His yoga was surfing his language was naught and hard was the peace and the leisure he'd bought. His clothing did fit in the general surround and soft was the voice and the scent of his sound and dogs didn't bark when he would pass them by and kind was his handfall and soothing his eye. With but a few actions he'll reduce stress and set himself up for to just do his best as each of us humans here stuck on this tilt must do well with all of the cards we've been dealt.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

quick magical slide

Uncanny and welcoming hectic and vast is road-grid and heart of this city of class. Los Angeles friendo is where it is at where fortunes can change at the drop of a hat where a simple gesture can upset the tides and time does a fluid quick magical slide. Its highways and ocean its palm trees and dust its holy points one time to visit one must and bow to the fault-lines deep down and above that threaten with shaking yet embrace with love. It's fine to be back but there's not much left here that I haven't witnessed before through the years so where does that leave one who roams far and wide? To find within truth and to find it inside...

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

fingers fret fleetly

Now questing for glory now resting his bones this whorphan spoke softly in small quiet tones. His days they were dwindling his comfort was much he longed not for riches or jewels and such but to just sit simply in simple abode alert to the voice of the Vast Central Node. His fingers fret fleetly across his keypad for which he was thankful overjoyed and glad and hot was the taste of her grasp on his thoughts with little the chance of her meeting he'd bought. One article's finished the other awaits and loudly do bay all the dogs at their gates but silence their whimpers when he passes by but not even they know just exactly why.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

much murky water

There is now a bucket that Paris oft uses to clean hands and wash off his washing-off brushes. See he rents out surfboards down there at the beach and must keep a source of wash-water in reach. The stray dogs that live near the waves in Canggu do come by to drink from its warm salty dew then run back out past us to bark at some strangers and bark at (to humans) invisible dangers. With all the salt, dog spit, and much murky water is there one more denizen of this container – a spoon used for eating by humans whose hunger cannot be ignore for much shorter or longer. Should its use be needed it is taken out and given a rinse from a bottle of stout or from a pale lager, whatever's around, which washes its filthiness off to the ground. Once cleaned the thin spoon is then dipped into food after which it's thrown back to wallow and brood there in the wash-bucket where dogs come to drink – would you use this spoon do you or not think?

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

down his roll

The listing of grievance in the Declaration was written at founding of the Ynki nation. It talks about tyranny from distant king and says that his actions did start the whole thing – the war and the splitting of people in twain which is celebrated again and again. But reading the listing now now and today is just like a reading of how Ynki play – his actions are those of the tyrant of old his lust it is brutal his justice is cold. He harbors great armies in his peoples' middle subjects them to hardships by foul ardent spittle that shoots from his orifice day and day out; he is on the world-stage a poor-losing lout. His need for revenge for a few buildings' falling has led him to do things so brash and appalling that when in the future we speak of his name it will be with hushed tones small lowered in shame. To act with impunity and then complain that all other countries are acting the same is to be a sourpuss bully and dolt is to stir up many a sweeping revolt. Therefore old man Ynki must slow down his roll lest he should incur Fate's most surefire toll and wind up both crippled and sick from within and this he must do now and this must begin.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

time to burn

The deadline approaches to leave this fair aisle and he does accept it with a patient smile. He wants not to leave here and head back stateside for there has all freedom and Liberty died and there awaits conflict and hard conversations with all type and manner and shade of relations. But oh well that's living and life at this stage perhaps this will better and mellow with age perhaps they will improve but he knows not how for he's got all that he could ever want now. So print out that ticket and board up that plane and hope that these shores will be soon seen again and weep not for leaving but for the return for there is not money but just time to burn.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥