Limited Linguistics

Word complex


A word or few can hold within its qualms

Entire universes of mysteries and miseries

From that initial jog into view down to

That final extirpation out of entropy’s final thrust.

Lives, of course are more than words, contain

Wonder and pain, love and disgust in configurations

Well beyond the noun or adjective or even verb.

One must contain a throat to scream, a mind

To dream, that sense immense cannot condense

Existence into the formalities of utterable sound

Or even scribbles symbolizing oddly the lightning of life,

That flash of clash that streaks through every now

May echo in linguistic thunder to trace the wonder

Of reality but there is no way that actuality can be trapped

Into the tangles out of the consonants and vowels enwrapped.



Bird in the woods


Our brains were made to scheme with dreams,

Configure from vectors implied, collusions of illusions

Into fantasies of possibilities to probe consequence.

Consciousness is trained with actuality, hedged

By formality to miss the subtleties of distortions

Wherein the patterns of the inner brain

Gains freedoms to ascertain

Likelihoods and improbabilities.


Thus, puzzles out of night adventures,

Treasures out of reconfigurations,

Monstrosities of alien associations,

Matrixes arcane in bonding

Imponderable to sunshine inspection

Demand reflection much beyond

Daylight acceptabilities.


Awareness that the inner self

Inhabits universes of perversity

Where gravity and inertia, magnetism,

Cataclysm, theologies and biologies interlock

With no relations to the clock,

But merely connect through miasmas

Of misunderstoods

To leave us wandering

Through the woods.





A grownup is an adulterated child.


That minute curl of blood red flesh

Which beckons time, a bent forefinger out of fate

Which will inflate and burst its shell

With that primal shriek to reply to destiny

In fear and disgust at what must occur

To protest predetermination.

It is the first prod towards death that comes

With that initial intake of breath.


That shock retreats behind the mist of forgetfulness.

Sunshine and warm milk suffice, a device to ripen

Potentials foreordained to prepare

A life of, perhaps, thirty thousand days or more,

And then, a summation to the score.


Fingers, toes, two ears, two eyes and a nose,

Suppose there are fragrances, hues, surfaces

To explore, day and night when bird choruses

Compete with frogs and crickets to amuse

When all else floods in to confuse.

These initials pass, integrate from morass

To separate and classify, identify as plus and minus

To formulate and design us.


Minds are terrorized early on by petrified commands

To channel doubts, monument the social absolutes

That chain a brain to tradition and pulverize basic sense

To doubt and question odd commodities of social bent.


Each of us alive must thrust our lives to accommodate demands.

A bird must fly, a fish must swim, a blade of grass lunch on Sun.

Were I a chicken I could not fly, but fate could well dictate my end

On a plate beside a serving of French fry.


Thus matured we all end cured of significance endured.

Our lives contrived of circumstance, of pluck and luck,

But mostly chance.

No need to plead on greed, or cruelty, or the eternal silliness

That infects humanity.

Brief moments that our lives contain

Will pass, since all of us, at end, remain

Under grass.


Predicting The Whether

Wall and hammer


Hurricanes of the possible

Must be parsed into

Economies of the probable

In selections with corrections

To obtain

From rain a reign towards utility

To refute the impossible,

Fabricate a tool to spool out predictability

In pragmatic regularity.

A useful lie to get by.


Discovery is fabrication,

Not just scientific.

Management has its sway

Through every moment of our day.

To lie is to comply with necessity.

Scam the passage into sustains

That gains us through sunshines and rains.


No sense in playing games of truth.

The pragmatic acrobatic of results

Is sufficient to avoid tumults.

Weary theories fragmentize when

They break again and again to inspire

The required ends we desire.

Particles of the past are pasted into the future

With incidents of cement to glue

Today into tomorrow.


Therefore, creativity must remanipulate

Whatever digitry might conspire

To unlock the gate, anticipate and navigate

Passageways into the blank wall of time

That chops some place to take the next step

And face the disgrace that somehow

We never end in the right place.











The Crowd Within

self portrait


The sense of internal unity,

A sense of coherent impunity

Is false, a lie.

We are a community.

And more.

A place of peace and consideration,

But, as well, a war.

Should I, shouldn’t, would I wouldn’t,

Struggle with why not and why,

Over chatter on what might matter

Along with truth or what could falsify?

Some of us contain a preacher, some a teacher.

But there is, of course a central I,

A cry of eye to see, to be, to laugh

And cry.

I have within a dog, a pig, a frog,


Something big I can’t deny.

I have inside, where I began

A Peter Pan who could fly.

This central guy always asks why.

Which can be troublesome.

The world outside demands, commands

I skip and flop and walk upon my hands

Until I stop, numb and dumb to scream

This must be an awful dream – it cannot be


Someday, to myself, I say,

I will simply walk away.



To See

the eye


It’s difficult to contain

That not the eyes, but the brain

Is the instrument pertinent

To make an image plain.

What we see may not be

Since that final imagery

Is a complex of construction,

A process not easy to explain.


The world does not, itself, configurate

The lights and darks, spectral variation,

Into intimations of object and space

To create, erase a useful compilation

To be useful to survive which keeps us alive.

The matrix of sensation, of intricate relation

Required is touch and go to fabricate illusion

That might construct utility from confusion.


The brain contains necessities for personal realities

That must conform to habitat, to species and will

With experience and skill, fulfill needs of function.

Thus love and hate, desire and what might inspire

Each instigation suspects, composes particular demands

To make us see what must be seen and inbetween

Inserts its cautions of fears and repulsions.


Therefore, at end, details that forefend disaster

Are made explicit in emphasis and threat,

While details of no portent simply cease to exist.

The eye does not command presence in reality.

The brain constructs and configures response to light

And all else vanishes, disappears, try as we might

To see what we might suppose is reality.




Getting Ready

smiling cat


To tremble may resemble a tree in high breeze.

The muscle fluctuations have, in kind, minute instabilities

To tense and relax in vibratory excitations that seize

An entire physiology,

It displays a condition of substantive indecision, a preparedness

In stressful predisposition to fight or run, perhaps collapse

In horror or consternation.

Today, this entire planet vibrates in troubled fear.

The atmosphere wherein the birds and bugs can zoom

Threatens to go boom, become unbreathable.

Us older folk can joke that oncoming demise

Is no surprise. We can surmise our time will soon arrive

And it seems quite affable to be joined by everyone.


Invader Persuasion



Since I have never kept a horse around the house

Equine linguistics remain mystical, but a mouse

Has possibilities with approaches logistical.

The whisker twitch, the flick of tail can avail

The elements of communication.

That upward glance of small black eyes

In frozen hesitation, anticipation of disaster,

Can prompt a safety leap even faster.

Preprepared with a paper tube placed strategically,

Sealed at one end with tape for rapid mouse retreats inside.

Once safely tubed the eviction can proceed.

Upended with the taped tube side down,

The mouse can be transported exterior,

Where his adventures can be found

On less intimidating ground.