bob_toeback

People come & go
But shall never enter nor leave.
They stare off in every vast direction
And set a course
In this sea and infinite arcade
They reach the shore and make their decisions
And set their dependence independable
While they tear at banners, and choose their path.
There are no bars to hold within this eternity
And they take what they want
When they want it
For yo-yos repel the world.

And now a ping pong table
To serve the singing song
And a lingering for-long
That all but belong
To the eastern shooby doo
As Scooby and the gang
Solve mysteries
And catch the wrong
And find wind to surround
Circles of living life
While all these billings and strife
Talk to the willing wife
And the mill- hinge and my digging sift
To sell the wide walls
And side halls
To abide by laws
And a racket of notice
Letter of placement
To show all the boat-less
That they don’t have a basement
To paint pictures on the door frames
The saint lectures Bon the Boar Raines
While he lifts his chores for maims

So Swash Buckle
Makes it there in time
To proudly announce to the world
that he would wish
His toes
To ring a-glow
And his toe nails to grow

For a view of the ticket machine
as the fountain of youth
For it always resets to 0
And will never run out
As it funnels inward to seek landscapes
And listens to the music it wishes
Rather than that of which is programmed itself
We sit amongst the laundry mat
To shoot nickles
And lift sandwiches and thus melt downed
Waterflow
Riding bikes up hills
Too steep to count
And down valley edges and streams
Too low to revel a sound

You don’t walk home, for home
is a thing of the past
And it would be too far
To begin with
Rather you forge snowmen in the fiery furnace
A blade of macho collusion and
Forced-to-be-reckoned-with confusion
For a mass illusion of birds & doves
For all that there is
Is simple things above
And simple things below
And that is all you have
To know when it comes to
Skipping stones in the back draft
And laugh tracks
That queue life and love
And humanity as a whole
In a distant plane
And a piercing sound to all but your ears
To re-compensate you
For your fulfilled, or
Lack there of
fears
And who is King Lear?
A man of musty cures
With only beers
And a wagon, and man to steer
For the walking of those and they’re near
A shadow of the sear lost
And the hark you hear

‘Now come hither mere mortal
And I shall grant one wish
To you and the life’s world’

And Stanley had died
In 1999
Because of the possible
Future he’d fore-told in his movies
and how things work

Continue down the line and on the railroad. Railroad crossings. Cross walks. Stop signs, go signs. Red green lighted. As you track across the universe on a silver lined raft of unconscious rifts and raves. Sinking buckets down the well, to gather water for the week watchers. And the hall monitors. An ode to teachings and fallings. For everyone shall chew you up, and everyone shall spit you back out in a world too bright to even visibly appear to look at, for one instance or another. As you re-adjust and find time to look at the surface of this planet, and all those that surround it. And fall to a deep coral, for all there is the determined time itself. In a turn dial of any one clock, counter clock wise, is counter wise to be said for this and that. Walk any distance, while living in hotels forever. The lights flicker but there is always someone working. Swimming pools and rec rooms. The smell of chlorine in a newly furnished house.

So you lay at the mouth of your life, and you awaken refreshed to be alive and living life to all lives you’ve had. The many chosen the many not. And your still playing baseball because you can, and not even because you want to anymore. This orbit is all that matters, and all that has become of you. As per usual you see cosmos and raging whirlpools to suck the hair off of your head and plant it in the floor. Grass growing over pastures while cows off and stare for what there is and give thanks around a supper table while passing the carrots and ribs. They talk of their lives, and how far they have come. How they have built space ships and nuke plants, and automobiles to replace the carriage, and hot air balloons as a form of aeroplane, all the accomplishments in ways to put down what they’ve seen into a neatly formed book, to take fake trees to replace those that they have in their forests they never visit, and their shoes and socks and head gear and goggles that help see through walls and ordinary wall calendars to sell the day, and potato chips and fancy crayons to color in pictures of themselves.

Infinity in every direction
And no steps to be had
There is space beyond these walls
And whistles that hang from the ceiling
Playing themselves
Planetariums are not for the faint of heart