Doodles

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From one solstice to another

Deserved

the first snow has fallen on the first year jay
the vine that climbed the summer pillar
went to sleep one day one dormant day

the seasons, they tac with God at the tiller

the first year jay will then say

what is this stuff that hides
the bush berries pride
and stings the wing as we dart and parry
the snows interferes with our pallet painting
no never we fly

the first year jay
feels the first snow
the air at its core
feathers with a cry

“ screeeetch screeetch scraaa—-eeeeetch ”

that bears repeating

“ screeeetch screeetch scraaa—-eeeeetch ”

the jay is nothing linear

so turns these words into something scruffy
in your face I am a blue crowned punk
I am nature’s sniper and I keep a close eye on the summer sky
until its gone bye and bye

all animals practice surveillance
their eyes dart that is all they do

the predators who feed on winters tome
they bring me the gray sky
they beat down the wood sinew
that yields to the weight of the weather
yet somehow thrives

my instep has no choice but to contact the earth
but the birds can fly the gray sky
perch here and there in natures chair

the first year jay joins the crowd
a crowd is a group of blue jays

their rumors as wild as ours
and if one stands to
“ screeeetch screeetch scraaa—-eeeeetch ”
then the others will reach

this “ screeeetch screeetch scraaa—-eeeeetch ”
in your face
for some unknowing reason

the first year jay cannot not last the season
but they do in the absence of reason
or opinion or thought the gods think nought

the first year jay has a spark that parlays
bet you this I come out far ahead
screw you when I’m dead
I rant and I flew and that more than you could do
your universe of ugly constants

if theres a mistake its a part of the plan
do you understand
the mirror that is man….man
smile
smile again and again
holler for dollars

the snow has began to slow
here is message
to the first year jay

I’ve seen winter to the depths yet I breathe
and think to myself how did I brave
the this and the that under a wide brimmed hat

well I stand and commence
with a proper sense of sense
‘cept this little bit of fear
that commands my day
winter wins in the end
but for the first year jay

Yet to be

between the ages

The youth of humanity all around our planet are intuitively revolting from all sovereignties and political ideologies. The youth of Earth are moving intuitively toward an utterly classless, raceless, omnicooperative, omniworld humanity. Children freed of the ignorantly founded educational traditions and exposed only to their spontaneously summoned, computer-stored and -distributed outflow of reliable-opinion-purged, experimentally verified data, shall indeed lead society to its happy egress from all misinformedly conceived, fearfully and legally imposed, and physically enforced customs of yesterday. They can lead all humanity into omnisuccessful survival as well as entrance into an utterly new era of human experience in an as-yet and ever-will-be fundamentally mysterious Universe.
Buckminster Fuller, “The Wellspring of Reality,” Synergetics: Explorations in the Geometry of Thinking (1975)