sticktoitiveness

you need the sticker in the guts,
the pot boiler, the flying vaseline, excelsior,
so: maybe you have learned to hang
a bit more chevalier

but woof. yow. the scullery.
the galley. and I just keep looking
out the window. just keep looking
at the sun outside splicing cool and chill

on the air. I want
to get
out
there; dig?

the good stuff

always want a word like "byzantine"
moutharchitecting some chattery flowchart
pitch simmering thought miasma
and yet the good stuff
is like

prairie face (never)

(Goiterneck
Sludgefoot
Melontesticle
Billowcaul

A billowing call...

Broken feet
Mendax...Mendacitor!

That's what they called him
(that's what they called me)
That's what they called him
(yeah that's what they called me)

Moonshine traveler
Insanity cousin, chainsmoking
Gluehearted
Bellyshaved

Fool and Ghoul Broker
of Most Warped Mendelism!

That's what they called him
(that's what they called me)
That's what they called him
(yeah that's what they called me)

(yeah)
(yeah yeah yeah)

I make a soft pillow
From whatever I can get...
I make my highwayside offerings
From wherever I can stand...

NEVER

Hell. What?
I know it makes no difference to you
(You’re the outsider)
What I do
(You’re the outsider)

So I, I’m just content to sit
(You’re old)
With my old hands composed
(Not composed)
Over this plate and wait and feel
If you’re gonna weigh back to where you came…
(Never)

I’ll take a small triumph from whatever I can get
(Can’t get much)
I can hear the cars out
I can hear the cars out on 96
Where you going?
I know it don’t bode well for you
Looking to get your kicks
(Already got them, honey)

Oh well.
(Learning to love them kicks)
Guess I’ll shit-kick out of here.
(Ah, yeah)
No one gets out of here alive.
I know you’ve heard that before, too.

But hey....

new day

the world is full of sin and mordant depravity.
and human beings are ludicrous apes. now
this is the first thing you say upon waking.
and you know it not to be true. what is true?
true means level. you say a beam is true,
or a cut, or person. you say they are true blue

now you want to go walking outside and there are leaves
on the ground and they are many as the people are many
they plummet, twirl and cluster as do the people?
what a shitty metaphor. well, you try. but have you been?
I am now. Oh I surely am now. but you know what that Great
Man said about trying

the morning is full of light of one kind or another. I say now
that there is no sinister light, not the moon certainly, I don't know
maybe if you were looking down into a volcano
perched on the rim like a carapace
or I guess I mean parapet
but carapace is interesting,
interesting that that would have occured to me to say
because I think I have none

well this is all but for dithering

but. here is an idea:

the grey mist

and water is the landscaper; you step out on that runway every morning; bear it every morning; feel it moving every morning; The runaway runway; I am a fast hand on a cliche; So what? So aren't you? it's a passthrough. this here is just a passthrough

mah mah mouth it

You always mouth it up so much.
You'd kill for that boy's touch
Mash it out and walk away.
Come back again some other day.

Urge the mind.
Nursery rhymes.
Cursive line.
Urgent times.

>>>

Mott Cromby

Walks off into the pale mist.

See you later.

serendipity to the maximum

serendipity to the maximum
comes around for me
every time I get into this mood
where I want to reclaim my life
and be fulfilled

I think it might be God

the bee

I've got you now
(The shell of a bumblebee
woven allongside my path)
Oh, I've got you now

I see now, I see more clearly now
The way. Your way.
Who has not sinned in pride?
Who has not sinned, so many times?

Intercalary

I don't know if I really want to own all the old blog content I've vacuumed in here; a lot of it is really bad writing; but own it I do. It is for my own past present and future plunder is what I say.

standing by the highway side

standing by the highway side
beneath the arch of the sun
I'm gonna be that guy
I'm gonna be that one
travelin dude who walks from tree to tree to tree
like Johnny wayback Appleseed

standing by the highway side
in the baking sun
I'm gonna be that guy
past the years I've shunned
with head chills crashing an ocean wave
your Atlantic master your soul could still save

Real
you gotta
make it real
you gotta
cut the deal
With yourself
once

and for all

the blueprints

the blueprints? yes I have them here. why?
no they do not delineate marginal interests
yes they include instructions on how to fly

yeh and no not just in dreams. equinoxes are what they seem
or yes they are. doggerel in a dirigible. indivisible; everything washed in blue
all the prints, all the tinctures. they were sepia now they're in blues

sepia old; blue, new. like the blues in you. the blueprints, yes. I have them
Never mind the payroll
that is what

he is for
that is what
he gets paid

to worry about

back off the jinx

you gotta take time to back off the jinx
don't overthink or think for a minute
that you are sacrosanct
in your clarity here today
which should just be normal

back off the jinx
get encoded
encrypted
in your own glossolalia
you could call it "Glosso"
like something out of a Philip Dick story
some drug the space colonists take
to make them sound
interesting
to the other robots

expiate regret

pathetic & there
is a lot going on in here;
I hope;
why would you want to post it?
no, but would
you want to get it out?;
yes; for purposes of self;
yes, I guess

Expiate regret
make your choices
let results speak for themselves
and don't talk about it;
talking about the one thing
dilutes its power
& its magic;

you not only have to know this
but also

subscribe to it.