Unique Kind of Normal

As soon as, I married madness and rebellion…

the tilted, chaotic, walls, fell in upon themselves.

A panting dog with only a muddied puddle to quench her thirst…I gave into acceptance of water from the sullied, still waters.

Every morning, as sanity mounts upon a cluttered and chipped floor.

Inching closer to the bedroom door.

Every morning, ordinary thoughts and scattered mind debris, grasp at my feet.

Must remain stringent and pull a unique kind of normal…around me…

Trouble Maker

Trouble, the further, the faster, I run from it…

the closer, dire straits and her finish-line.

Some of us, much more maniacal, by design.

Some of us, inherently, stick our big toe in questionable mud…just to draw the line.

Some of, masons in glass trailer parks.

Base ass, tossing rocks.

god may not give with both hands…but trouble certainly does!’

On the Right Path…offbeat

If my Higher Power came to me, many nightfall’s ago, and said…

‘You, now you are a gypsy!’

Would I have built a response?

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A life well spent will question all knowledge, not worship it.

Would I have shaken the salted, sweat from a brow…

Cleared a throat and responded with…

‘No, that is not what I want!’

Or, as I often query…had the convention of conventional…already given away my seat…

years ago.

Offered it up to menacingly clean travels and permanent regulations of…

standard manners in which to be.

As honest beckons the spirit animal in me…

irregular and offbeat appears to be my welcomed disease.

If It Is All the Same

Just a stumble down the rabbit hole.

Hybrid expectations.

Hybrid connotations.

Milky, mixed, substances found in the earth.

Or, within a book.

Co-existing with rebirth, rebirth, rebirth.

Catalyst for a change?

For all one knows.

Careful, careless, creations of still-life in strife.

‘If it is all the same’ no organic notoriety for the change.

‘If it is all the same’ particles keep falling in the ‘race’ to maintain.

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How to Admire a Partly Cloudy Day

Someday, I do not know when.

Illusions spawned from delusions.

Will spill from a cup-shaped cloud in the sky

Ominous voices.

Will no longer,

be antagonizing and lacking choices.

Abuse…

Only cloudy with a chance of rain.

Misfits will feel free to tell each other…their secrets.

And, the wilderness of society will no longer address nonconformity…with disrespect.