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

sprinkling and shower​

The rains have been falling for at least one hour, as cloudburst and downpour, as sprinkling and shower. We thank them for coming yet beg for reprieve and hope that thunderheads will soon take their leave so that in warm sunshine we once more can bask, can complete and perform our various tasks, that require us leaving our water-tight homes where we have been huddling, cooped up like gnomes. Each raindrop is precious to tree root and plant, without falling waters we know our life can't and will not be fertile or happy or long, wherefore we've composed this short rain-time song: Now fall all ye droplets, now make the land grow, now help us our hurried and rushing ways slow, we thank you for visiting these verdant shores, for washing our mopeds, for doing our chores, for keeping us closely together, indoors, for being the waters that keep us alive, upon you we surf and into you we dive, your life-giving bounty is always welcome but cease with your falling – your duty's now done.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

its origins shadowed

There tugs at my heartstrings a mystery, now, its origins shadowed in a milky shroud. I can't taste the outlines or clearly define this elusive puzzle that slips from the mind that slips through my tendrils whenever I try to fix grasp or harness it with my third eye. Therefore I have settled for giving it love, accepting what knowledge seeps down from Above, not being obsessive or making demands but sticking to feeling what stirs in my glands. Perhaps it's the Equinox that just occurred, that stirred up invisible spiritual worlds which cannot be known by mere mortals, you see, from which some gain insights and long-lasting glee. I'll keep meditating and emptying out worries and desires still flitting about, and stick to the Path of the wise ancient ones of whom I'm merely a poor misguided son.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

not much fanfare

There is not much fanfare on this here fair aisle for Xmas or pampered micromanaged childs. The kids here make do with what little there is, and don't seem to mind sharing with other kids. They pile onto scooters four or five at a go and wander through parking-lots with dogs in tow, now dropping their food onto the sandy ground, now making the best of each day's go-around. They do not stay cooped up just watching TV, instead they shriek giggle and shout out with glee at things such as older folk just wouldn't get, at a silly face or when rain makes them wet. They'll splash in a puddle or a rushing stream with no shoes on and trousers ripped at the seam, they'll laugh at a stranger and call him bulé, with fire and fireworks they are prone to play. Without regulation these youngsters do well unlike in America's restrictive hell of dire prohibitions and the foul jackboot of cops dressed in black always ready to shoot. So pack up the little ones, learn to let go of all of the worries you once used to know, and get onto this small but wonderful spot where life is best lived with whatever one's got.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

toward inner peace

There are endless pathways toward inner peace; I have taken many; with some I've been pleased; some they might take longer and have fewer fans, while others claim that one must pray to a man. This man and no other! its adherents say while claiming there's no alternate proper way to calm the dark spirit that is the ego, that tricks us and tells us there's much that we know. I follow a different, simpler path that helps me to ease want and calm need and wrath, that in its first stanza says it can't be named then repeats this warning again and again. It's tempting to say, My methods and no other! without leaving open to sisters and brothers the option of finding out Truth for themselves or daring to state that they'll sure go to hell if they do not line up and march to a tune that's all but extremist, with no wiggle-room. I am not here saying that mine is the best, that it must be followed above all the rest, merely that to judge is a worn-out old steed, that one ought lead others with not words but deeds.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥