Spinners of Right-Write…

We move ‘cross space this similar race, of four wheels beneath and ‘Sundown Serenade’ playing radio songs; behind us beach, while just before us, mountain reach. It is fine this twine, reline.

Imagine this world, our womenfolk walk in day-night safety and our menfolk cannot speak a word called ‘War. Where love is love and force is Never-Wherever or Whatever and neither heaven nor hell exists. A place where life belongs, and life is good every day. Heaven or luck why no! We create worlds. We maintain worlds. We love our children. So! Pixel me a thought today and watch as pictures fade away. Just! Pixel me a thought today and watch as pictures fade away…Ok?

We drown, blood drawn, wealth gone and forgotten; save despair in the care of angels rare and an approaching age away from bombs speedy bright, a joy-in-the-kill and before a time to ‘come in’ from the cold and the end of sliver shiver and right write those spinners of gold, and just a few degrees above the freeze. We commingle those beings by sundry names. Technocrats and financiers and investors and politicians, the poison heirs-of-air twisting our worlds through formulas devotedly devoid of reason, and passion and truth and a modern-day reason-to-season today’s folly with yesterday’s almost jolly ‘may-have-been’ solutions and greed.

The distance between exact science and a hermetically sealed faith of notions and potions and the inclination of motivation is the improbability of dreaming improbable things and the rare-dare-of-fare abundance. A feast found and devoured together all at-once and then again. Congruence and harps without finger touch in wind rush ‘cross wires of copper and gold and silver in shimmers of cold sunlight and starting sing-song; wind carried notes across fields, turned plow-broken and touched in powder snow with frozen driest air mixtures and sing-speak.

Our world is filled-to-brim with strength and spirit and bodies to work, not a population of unemployable or unsteady or unable to rebuild ruined roads, broken-down bridges, worn-out miles of railway steel or simply peel the decay from city-sickness and dying towns. Altered economic figures are sound bites of lies and flies have previously scourged these bitter wastelands. America’s political whirly-twirly create twin lies and their towers of power fall as decay ensues. And! Still shifting toward additional regulators as inequality and poverty and unrest change to insurgence. Is revolution antiquated or insane, when need is forever necessitated by indulgence, decadence, luxury, intemperance and greed?

This length of twine that is followed by too many to discover the end of one strand and again new threads in an ever-growing tapestry covering world folly and rancor swiftly to renew-new strife and re-spin controlling lies and hopelessness forever twins of faithless taste and wasted twists of truth. Acting within actions of disguise and discourse and recourse and renewal when greed needs-need-be and never enough control of whims, of chaotic seams and seemingly able to resist destructive machines and the results of greedy governments and very few against the purest treasures of women and men. And remember! Love is sexless and without form and without flesh and when shaped by humanity; is magic and required, as carbon-based beings require air and blood.

Beyond slicks of rain bounced, visible by moonlight, against a trillion miles of asphalt roads where tiny sprites of weed push through and break the symmetry of path. Life is once again the birthing of nature’s chaos and nothing is as natural as the crafting of creation. Life’s power is the eternal notions of goddesses and gods and witches and warlocks and wizards and shamans-and created by the sanguinity of woman and man and the dynamics of love.

We are the goddesses, gods, witches, warlocks, wizards, magicians and creation’s creators. We are the spirit wind in the valley and the desert and ‘cross plains of grass and mountains both under the sea and rising into space. We of many names or descriptions are both feared and loved. We are Life. We are the evermore art of this evermore life.

Again! To be and to see the loving of loving of hands joined-to-body of moving of swings and wings and spirits-singing and of peaceful sighing. Creation! The Sorceress smiles and for this moment in time; ‘Tis’ good this Loving Rhyme. So! Follow this time—this Twine Rewind.

And! Beautiful you are…

‘Ode To My Family’ by The Cranberries

 

 

 

 

26 comments on “Spinners of Right-Write…

  1. Pingback: Spinners of Right-Write… — Pmespeak’s Blog – Revolver Boots

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