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Northfield, Illinois, United States
Michael Steven Platt has taken his life long love of doodling to extremes. His intent is to provide and promote creations of positive energy which will broaden the scope of perception and impart a sense of well being to those who experience them.

Thursday, July 22, 2021

The Singing Alarm Clock

A short story to start the day... 

                “Oh boy!” thought Fnordly, the wind-up alarm clock, “it’s almost time!”

                The night was coming to a close as the first faint wisps of daylight shyly drifted through the window and Fnordly’s hands slowly swung around to six-o’clock.

                “Gosh,” he thought, excitedly, “my first day and I’m ready to go!”

                He was wound up snug, ticking merrily away at the passing seconds, set for six a.m. and anxious to try out his voice in his new home. He knew that he had a loud, sharply clear tone and that he would sing out in ringing glory. He had been made quite well and was confident that his new owner, asleep in the bed next to the table upon which he sat, would wake and enjoy the serenade. Last night his owner had unpacked him from his box, read all the instructions, carefully wound, set and placed him on the bedside table. Now, several hours later, Fnordly was growing excited as the seconds ticked by toward six-o’clock.

                The mechanisms within him moved closer to release, so he drew several deep (tick-tocks) to compose himself, and then, “RRRRRRRRIIIIIINNNNNGGGGGGG...” he loudly sang, “R-R-R-R-RIINNGGG...” he melodiously wailed, “R-R-R-RIIIINNGG...” smoothly, “R-RIIINNNGGG...” steadily, “...RRIINNGGG…” easier, “Rrriinngg…” slower, “iiinnnggg…” quieter, “nnnggg…” and finally, with, “nnggg…” he ran out of his spring driven breath and stopped.

                “Wow,” he thought, “That was wonderful!” He had had no idea that his song would be so tremendously rich and rewarding, or that it would provide such a deep sense of fulfillment throughout his inner workings. He sat ticking away, relaxed and sleepy in the after-glow comfort of satisfied contentment, and dozed off…

                Suddenly, he was grabbed from his slumber to hear a groggy voice irately complain, “Nine o’clock! Didn’t this stupid clock even go off?! Bah! That makes me late for work every day this week!” and with that Fnordly was unceremoniously tossed into the nearby wastebasket.

                “We thought your singing was beautiful,“ chorused the four other alarm clocks already in the basket.

Tuesday, November 19, 2019

The Only Avenue of Escape


The only avenue of escape was up the large stone staircase that led around and around the empty shell of the tower, towards the open-aired top of the castle.  I rushed up the first level and turned with my sword ready, well knowing its ineffectiveness against the 10-foot-tall metallic giant that was pursuing me.  It came lumbering up the stairs making a great crash with each footstep. I swung at it, hitting his sword and then ducked as it swung at me. I dealt him savage blow right to this chest, but my sword only rung in my hands.  I turned and proceeded following the staircase climbing level after level, not really knowing where it led, not that it mattered, for I was concentrating only on escape from this monster. I looked over the edge of the stairwell at the dizzying heights to which we had already climbed, then looked up to realize that there were only two levels left before I reached the top.  I turned back to the approaching giant and as he raised his sword I swung at it and knocked it from his grasp, sending it down the stairs to the previous level.  Then, to my great surprise, the giant stopped, turned and went down after it. While he did, I ran up the remaining two flights only to find a blank wall at the head of the stairs, and the long, long, drop down to the bottom of them. My mind was racing, trying to find an avenue of escape when once more the giant came up the stairs.  He didn’t even slow down when he saw me trapped, as if he had only one thing in his mind, indeed, if he had a mind at all, and that was to skewer me. Suddenly I conceived a plan, and knowing that it was my only chance, I grimly stood my ground, and waited for the coming onslaught. The giant was up the stairs now and raised his sword once more.  Before he swung I quickly lashed out with my sword, again striking his and to my relief, again knocking his from his grasp and sent it over the edge of the stairwell.  He rushed over to the edge swinging his arms widely, perhaps trying to stop the fallen sword, and as he looked down at it, I gave him a tremendous shove and sent him following.  I collapsed there, exhausted, and listened to the terrific crashing getting further and further away as the giant bounced off the sides of the stairwell and then … the hauntingly familiar laughter came from behind me as I blacked out.
When I awoke I couldn’t see clearly, but I know I was in the throne room once more.  How long ago it seemed since I had been there, when I was sentenced to die by a voice emanating from a black stone embedded in an otherwise empty throne.  But my thoughts were interrupted when I heard that same soft and yet coldly piercing laughter, only louder as I heard heavy footsteps approaching.  My eyesight was blurry and I rubbed my eyes but to no avail. Then, hearing the footsteps come to my right, I quickly rolled to my left and heard the sharp swish of my new adversary’s sword as it barely missed me.  I stood up and my eyesight returned just as a giant black-bearded man rushed at me with a hate in his eyes older than time.  I dodged his sword and saw mine lying where I had been.  I nimbly rushed over, picked it up and jumped up on a nearby table as the bearded giant missed his next swing at me. I jumped out to meet him, surprising him and with one swift hard blow I cut his head off, which fell to the floor, eyes, up still staring, still hating.  As his body sagged and fell I turned and ran right at the throne, it’s black carvings and evil designs once more writhing and moving as it had when I first looked upon it so long ago.  I saw my dark-haired Lynla whom the chair had seized, chained and standing near a wall off to one side.  I took my magic-touched sword and raised it high above my head and swung with all my might, shouting a plea to the Gods for help, and hit the dark jewel directly, shattering it and my sword in a burst of great light.  Deep claps of thunder echoed throughout the hall, as the throne burst into flames and crumbled.  I ran over and saw that Lynla’s chains had disintegrated so grabbed her hand, looking into her fiercely determined eyes, then we ran down the corridor as the castle shook and rumbled beneath out feet. I remembered where the massive iron door was and we scurried through the halls as they were crumbling and falling around us, staying just ahead of the effect. We got to the door, pushed one side open and ran out into sunlight. We reached the portcullis to find it a crumbled heap of rust.  As we passed through the archway the castle gave one last shudder, disintegrated to dust and was gone…


And so. As all that occurred many years ago, I'm not sure what I had eaten before I went to bed the night that I had those two separate-yet-connected dreams, but I'd be willing to have another helping. 
Pleasant dreams to you...

Sunday, April 26, 2015

Remains That Come Before

Listening to the spontaneous lark
With well heeled sandals
And wine,
Maybe I will
Take the plunge and die
Then go swimming later on as
History will twist its swivel wrist
Forth and back,
Forth and back,
Parading the mysteries it denies,

Remains that come before


Saturday, August 23, 2014

Endless Shifting Sand 1: In the Wind


(c) Michael Steven Platt 2012 : Camel Sand Imprint:  Undine Press

Dear Readers,
When last we met, life was a turmoil of things I have forgotten and things I remember but don't know what they were related to, and other such important issues, I'm sure. Stuff happened and I haven't been writing much. But now, I finally did find my way back in to this blog after some years of frustrating inability to do so.
That's the Grand Explanation as to How I've Done and Where I've Been. I wanted to keep it from getting too confusing.  I'm glad to be back... I missed you, too. (The applause is thunderous)
New effort coming through, looking for readership. It follows here:


Endless Shifting Sand 1: In the Wind

I am going to post excerpts from my book, 'Endless Shifting Sand' ... thinking that, perhaps, someone else might enjoy the offbeat humor in the surrealistic flow of smoothly chaotic imagery. Different. Wildly different. I do hope you might give it a whirl... you might enjoy it. Thank you.
Therefore, I put forth the entire Table of Contents as introduction and beginning of what ESS is. Cheers!
(Pardon the quirky alignment. The draft does not match up with the actual posting and this creates some interesting configurations of order)
(All copyrighted, of course)


This Page
Endless Shifting Sand
(or Keeping Score in the Big One)
~ Disclaim Maintain Refrain: Page Numb Baring Approximations ~
Table of Contents …………………………………………………. This Page
Chair of Intents …………………………………………………. Under the Table
Visual Selection ................................... (Under the Chair and Under Construction)
Introduction …………………………………………………….. How do you do?
Opening : If it’s time to get up this must be Monday ………...…….. 1
Part One – Part Another: Take the Wrong Way Home
Chapter One - Greetings......................................................... ..........  3
First Hourglass Spill ………………………..……………… 3
Deal With It ........................................................................... 9
Tracking Treats and Nervous Noise: Answering the Call ... 14
… tock ……………………………………………………. 18
Chapter Two (, Too)……………………………………….....…… 22
Chapter III: Growing Older in the City …………………………... 23
Pardon Yourself and The Great Peanut Butter Caper ….…. 23
Harken to Thy Will ……………………………………….. 24
A Chair is Born …………………………………………… 26
A Neu Firing Line ............................................................... 30
Which Way Do We Go? …………………………...……... 34
Nothing but the Best ……………………………………… 36
Watch Your Hat and Head ………………………………... 39
I Never and A Message from the Stars …………………… 42
This Page, Too
I Retire Undefeated ......…………………………………… 45
Feeling Game in Florida ...…………………………………47
Have a Pleasant Flight ……………………………………. 51
Scientific Announcement ...………………………………. 53
Score and First Kiss (Yes, in that order) ………....…… 57, 58
Intermission ……………………………………………………….. 65
Continuum ………………………………………………………… 65
Break Time and Cryptaxidgience …………..…………. 69, 70
Chapter IV (Intra-Vacuous) ……………………………………..… 73
The Ins and Outs of Communication .................................... 73
Apologies Not Necessary  .................................................... 77
AI: AS: The Phantom Cub Scout …...…………….……….. 79
The Story I Don’t Tell .......................................................... 81
Let’s Go to the Cemetery! ………………………………… 81
Household Hints …………………………………………... 85
A Solstice Celebration Entwined ………………………….. 88
Giving at the Office (or Where am I now?) ……………….. 91
Family Branchings, a Grandfather’s Tale …………………. 93
After the Party Party (or Just Where Have I Been?) ………. 96
Summer Job Farm Adventures ............................................. 98
Go Fish …………………………………………………… 103
AP: SD ……………………………………………………………. 107
Time to Relax …………………………………………….. 108
The Very Next Chapter …………………………………………... 111
This Page Three
Prognosticating Reminiscent Sand Piles ...…………….….… 112
Inspiration Calls …………………………………….…..…… 115
(I Forgot … um… ) ………………………………….…..…... 117
Drink This Book and Like It ...………………………...…….. 119
Sip on This, Two………………………………………..……. 120
Prognostication (Part Duh), “It’s Obvious.” ……..…..……… 121
In Control and Lost for the Plucking …..……………..……… 123
Community Services Announcement ………………..……… 128
A Stoic Pause Orchestrates the Usual ..................................... 130
Amazing Facts …………………………………….………… 133
Lunch Time, (try and) Take a Seat ………………….………. 134
In Cattus Requiem ………………………………….……….. 135
(Further) Into the Fog ………………………………………….……. 137
What I Haven’t Written Yet …………………………….…... 137
(While Waiting) Time to Think About the Passing Time:
Encrypted Dream  ......................................................... 137
Interred Mission to Post Mission …………………..….. 141 - 142
Change the Subject (Please!) ……………………….……….. 145
A Study in Situational Ethics and Karma ………….…….….. 146
Are You Done? …………………………………….………... 150
The Reluctant Snowflake …………………………………… 154
The Pause that Refreshes …………………………………… 156
Waasa Matter? Choke on This Paragraph .................………. 158
A.E.: I.O.U. (and sometimes ‘Why?’)…………..................... 164
This Page Four
Willow and Grayswandir ........................................................ 169
If You Do It, Mean It! ............................................................  171
How God Saved the Little Boy ……………………………... 172
Scorez-vous? ........................................................................... 177
Nope ........................................................................................ 180
This Ain’t Ravinia .................................................................. 181
Do it (to) Yourself Chapter: Fill Your Own Space …………………. 185
Back to My Chapters (Yours is Boring) .......................….................. 186
Dosewallips Coming Down..................................................... 186
Invitation to Imagination and Actual Party Mode................... 187
Happy Returns the Day ……………………………………... 189
(The Preceding Day) Fathered Attentions for Lunch ............. 192
The Lonely Puddle ………………………………………….. 194
The Next Part (Lost In Toxic Subsidy)………………....…………… 197
The Other Next Part and Courting Dreams ……..…………... 198
Birthday (Maid) Service …………………………………….. 200
(Sponsored Inter-Mission) and (continued) ............................. 201
The Offer of a Strife Time ...................................................... 204
Trains Passing in the Night ..................................................... 206
The Philosophical Limits of Imagination ............................... 209
Knock Yourself Out (Please)................................................... 213
Close the Window, Mon Ami ................................................. 214
Politics in Chicago: Snow jobs ............................................... 216

This Page Five
Part Two – Experience Expands
The Following Chapter: Let’s Spend a Day Together ........................... 218
Think Green and Pick a Day ...................................................... 218
Smoke This ................................................................................. 222
Happy New Year Connections ................................................... 225
Where Was He When We Needed Him? ................................... 228
(Pointed Pivot On To) Dark is Where the White Out Finds It ... 228
On Call: The Situation is, well, In Hand ................................... 229
Taco Time Juggling ................................................................... 230
From Small Chunks Break Bits and Pieces ............................... 232
The 4 R’s and Sunday Morning Pounding Down ...................... 235
A Call Up Wake (or Finding The Big Thrill) ............................ 238
Moral Sport Dedication ............................................................. 239
Chapter On or A Pocketful of Mondays ................................................ 241
Adventure, Mystery and Romance (Maybe Not) ...................... 245
May Day and The Tube ......................................................246, 247
Juggling with Words...... (Every Page, but Specifically)........... 250
Page Two-Hundred-Fifty-Two ................................................. 252
A Grade School Lesson in Neanderthal Humor ....................... 255
Morphalexic Daydreams ........................................................... 257
Wet, Wild and Swinging (This is Ravinia) ...............................259
My Other Foot Steps Out (or) Two For One Camel Magic ..... 261
Letters to My Daughters .......................................................... 268
Chapter Next ........................................................................................ 270
This Page Six
Talk about a Character and Vocabulary Check .......................... 270
Festive Land Gluttony Day ........................................................ 272
Did You Hear Them Say It? ....................................................... 273
Random Page Number Winner! ................................................. 274
Written Memory Test ................................................................. 279
Perspection ............................................................................................. 284
Everybody’s Got to be Somewhere ............................................ 286
My Grandmother’s View of Life ............................................... 289
(I remain sleeping for the duration...) No Return ................290, 291
My Daughter Supplies Another Karmic Lesson ........................ 291
(Retroverbalizations) Intersmitten Blast from the Passed by Past.......... 293
Job Responsibility and My All Over Twist Request ................. 295
Memories in the Dark or Serving a Long Sentence ................... 296
Getting Organized ...................................................................... 298
Reminiscing the Toxic Heir ....................................................... 300
The Great Missing Page Caper ................................................. (???)
The Latest Word ......................................................................... 304
The Low Down .......................................................................... 306
There Really Should Be ............................................................. 309
Welcoming Prologue ................................................................. 311
A Child is Born ............................................................…. 10-18-79
Marriage and Diapers Leading to (More) Snow Jobs ............... 313
Part Three – I’m Looking Up So I Must Be Down
Part To (Otherness) and Ivory Tower Dreams ....................................... 315
This Page Seven
Quixic Tandal ................................................................................ 315
Decide What I Mean .....(every page, but confined here to:) ........ 321
Self-Indulged Food for Thought et Progress in the Job World ..... 322
Winding Down Watch ............................................................................... 324
Special Poetry Section ................................................................... 324
Pertinent Questions and Check Your Scorecard............................ 326
Cheesy Target Practice................................................................... 328
Clear Cut Scoring the Whole Caboodle .......................................  329
Minimalistic Excess and Silent Landing ....................................... 332
Vision Doomed ............................................................................. 335
“     Dimmed ............................................................................. 338
(Invisible Chapter) ....................................... (Your guess is as good as mine)
Final Chapter (SODI?) .............................................................................. 341
Psidereal Matrix and Garden Delight ........................................... 341
Captain Naptime Wins a Gain ...................................................... 344
Scoring through Noblesse Oblique ............................................... 347
Communication Shakedown ......................................................... 351
Am I Supposed to be Here? .......................................................... 353
A(nother) Hollow Weaning .......................................................... 354
I Digress and Hit the Bottle on the Head  ..................................... 356
Is it Ever Not Monday? ................................................................. 360
Torquellipsis .................................................................................. 361
My Aim Keeps Wandering and Missed Her Tame, Boring Man .. 363
Prologue and A Stray in the Life ............................................................... 366
This Page Eight
Epilogue ......................................................................................... 377
What Remains is Gone ................................................................... 378
Narrowing the Way .................................................................................... 379
My Magus Opium .......................................................................... 380
(Further) Winding Down and The Curtain Falls ............................ 382
The Final Score and I Would Say................................................... 384
Final Chapter (Encore) and Final Word...................................................... 385
Closing ....................................................................................................... 386
Son of a Beach …………………………………………………………… 388

And so, again, I am washing over your eyes, sifting the written word across the perceptions of your awareness. I offer you my other way of seeing life in a big city:
(next posting)
I hope to see you there (I'll be the one looking over my shoulder at you)
Thanks.and Cheers

Monday, December 24, 2012

The Spirit of Christmas and Santa Claus

Up end atom shaking the structured foundations of settled slumber to face the face of the day, meeting life head on into my future as it flows all around me. Good: morning. Carrying off where I left up and away to the real deal of sitting here writing and not drawing on my ping pong eggs, and getting these gifts finished catches my holiday spirit. Time is running on like a reindeer on a roof and I’ve gotta get to the chimney in time to catch the next flue home. My haste is seeing red and it soots me as fine as if Santa were here to do it for himself. So go ahead, suit up and join the festivities. The snow is thick upon the lens of my imagination, the air is crisp and clear as stars winkle and shine above, the night is open for adventure and my image laden sleigh waits at your view right by my fingertip dance. Hie on up and hold on tight, we’re taking to the sky for a magic-filled flight!


With a bell-jangling lurch forward, we start off and pick up speed, jostled to the hiss of the runners in the deeply piled snow, along the forest path as the trees begin to blur and suddenly there is smooth elevation and another burst of speed as the trees brush close and then are gone below us, their whitened caps looking softly sparkled in the glowing light of the gibbous winter moon. Up and on we fly, the fresh and cool air enlivening the ride, our thick and fluffy coverings keeping us as warm outside as our joy-filled hearts are inside. Speeding though we are, time seems to have stopped for the world below us, for it is clear to see that nothing moves but our shadow across the fields of velvet snow.

Suddenly the sleigh swerves and curves sharply down, like a rollercoaster, but without the stomach twisting centripetal force, and rushes toward a house with the speed of diving hawk! Watch out! The roof angles are just even with the runners and we abruptly stop, with no momentum pull, safe and still. Whew! I guess the driver knows what he’s doing! Now quick, up and out with the bag that is suddenly on your shoulder. Trudge a few snow deep steps to the chimney, climb a leg up and then the other and whoosh! down like a waterfall to step forward and stand in the living room of an unfamiliar and quiet house. A lovely tree stands decorated in lights, ornaments and tinsel, and carefully wrapped gifts lie beneath its sheltering branches, waiting for the morrow and their discovery by eager eyes. Sling the sack down to the ground, open it up, reach in and pull out a brightly wrapped and ribboned box, lay it among the treasures under the tree and admire how it blends in. Then pull out another and another until the sack offers no more. Stand back and survey the scene, savoring the beautiful dream that unfettered giving gives. And look, on the table, a glass of milk, a cookie on a plate and a note. Smiling at such a cliché image, you step over, pick up the cookie, take a bite (chocolate chip!), pick up and read the letter. In a small child’s innocent handwriting it says, “Dear Santa, Thank you for whatever you brought me. I love you!” and that is all, no signature. Well, I guess you can figure out who it is, or how would you know to come here? Another quick smile and sip of milk, then picking up the not-quite-empty sack, you step to the fireplace and fill the stockings hung on the mantle. Toys and fruit, candy canes and chocolate, trinkets and treasures to bring smiles of delight! Again, step back and see how wonderful it looks, like a post card from the North Pole! Then, duck under the stockings and zip! you’re back on the roof, just putting your feet down into the snow outside the chimney. Toss the sack with a laugh to eager elfin hands, climb back up into the driver’s seat and, with a playful crack of your virtual whip, set off into the sky once more, where you will repeat variations of this mid-night visit untold numbers of times, all filling your heart with the hopeful magic of a fairy tale Christmas. And, as the last stocking in the last house is filled to its brim, and the last cookie and sip of milk has been taken, as the last look around puts a bright twinkle in your eye, a sense of accomplishment settles about the shoulders of your generous, gentle soul, a satisfied feeling of a good job well done, and you wish you could share THAT with all those who have been gifted this Christmas eve. A poignant smile and a shake of your head, then back you step toward this last fireplace, when,

“...Santa?” a small voice rises from a shadowed hall, and a small child steps into the soft light of the tree. Her pajamas have pictures of dollies and teddy bears and she holds a blanket and rubs her eyes. She looks at you with tired, and somewhat trepidatious, admiration.

“Young lady, you are supposed to be asleep,” you gently respond, kneeling down to be more on her level of conversation.

“I hadda go to the baffroom ...and then I came to see if you were here,” and here she brightens up, “And you are!” Her eyes grow as big as her smile, and you smile in return, open your arms and welcome her running into your loving hug. Well, this is a fine how-do-you-do, indeed! Your thoughts quickly try to recall the standard procedure for this sort of thing, but then you softly chuckle, kiss her on the head, stand and pick her up, carry her to a comfortable looking armchair, turn and sit with her safely ensconced in your lap.

“How would you like to hear a story?” you ask her.

“I doen hafta go back to bed?” her hopeful response.

“Not yet,” you assure her, “but we have to be quiet.”

“Okay!” she enthusiastically whispers and snuggles against your soft red suit.

“Well, once upon a time,” you begin... “there was a little girl, just like you,” and you spin a tale of fascination and wonder until, “... and she lived happily ever after,” gave your voice silence. You see the sleeping smile of this innocent young person, and the trust that they have for everything to be alright and you wish that you could share that wonderful feeling with everyone else as well. Ah, well, wishes indeed, indeed.

Gently standing and carrying the child to the passageway she came from, you set her down, kiss her sleepy head again and let her toddle off back to bed, where she will dream with all her heart that Santa Claus was there. You step back to the fireplace once more, hesitate for a moment as you have the desire to share this sweetly innocent young person’s view of the world: to know only peace and love, to feel free from fear or hunger, to have everyone care for one another and act upon it. Such a wonderful reality to share with everyone in the world ...but that would be too much to ask of Santa, that would be beyond the possibilities of his magic bag, that would be something even St. Nicholas couldn’t accomplish, and besides, he isn’t real anyway. Give a shake of your head to go with your sudden smile, step to the fireplace and whisk! you’re away up the chimney, out onto the roof, up into the sleigh and off into the night as the world below slowly starts to move once more. Your magic steeds are eager to get home, as are you, and there are no more stops to make, so they quickly dash away back to the north pole of dreams and fantasy, to fade in thought until next year when Christmastime calls them back to action.

And what would you say of Santa Claus and his fantasy activities? You have traveled in his sleigh, gone down chimneys, distributed gifts and had a little girl dreaming in your red suited lap. Do you see the wonderful magic of the season in the personification of this ‘jolly old elf?’ Is the spirit of Christmas viable and alive in your heart? Do you understand the underlying message that Christmastime brings, beyond the religion and without the commercialism? From a small child’s wide-eyed wonder to an old person’s heart-felt joy, the magic of Christmas and Santa Claus is always available to touch upon and share, for it is a simple concept that we can share with anyone at all, at any time. It is not the gift that matters, it is the giving.

Merry Christmas to you and yours, and THAT is the Real Deal.


Photographs (c) by Michael Steven Platt

Thursday, December 13, 2012

There's Easy Listening Music Playing Somewhere

I have begun transcribing the next installment of Withering Flats and I hope to be able to finish it in the not too distant future. Stay tuned and keep an eye open (otherwise how can you read it?) and let me know when it arrives... I want to read what happens! I am going to continue to use this blog for longer things, and my other two (I know there is a fourth, but I’m not quite up to maintaining that many) for more spontaneous and random translocutional efforts. Readership slowly grows on the WordPress blogs and I feel good about reaching out in other methods of creative display (for isn't that an artist's aim?), stimulating a thought, relating a story, sharing a memory, inspiring confusion or just giving a smile. I enjoy other’s enjoyment and so live the artist’s dream.


I have a couple Zlodt Bardo stories in mind, so that will be in the science fictioned future herewith transcribings as well.

And smiles back to you...
...do you hear that?
...sounds like....

                                         Adrift on a Sea of Stone

Monday, December 10, 2012

Last Willing Test To Money

12-09-12 I’m putting this same post in all three of my blogs, because, hey, it’s my birthday and I’ll blog if I want to.




Ambivalence rocks me to the core, drowning my sorrows in a thirst for more insipid perspectives, as I abjure token repletion to the hard bitten truth of my skin deep irritations, my neglected seats of contort and relaxation and my need to define and communicate, in lieu toward resigned decay and complacency. Symptoms of intentional focus are quickly attended to and disbursed among the wonders of the universe and imagination. What reflection can compose my substance as it eases into its berth effectioned moorings with the water levels getting low and the imagery all wet for the sinking? Yet I swim forward into the clear blue sea of the tomorrow, as every moment has its own day. I look to see who I am, where have I brought myself to within this life, in what direction am I traveling, how am I working toward my life’s goals and how can I help myself be a better person within the context of those around me, yet all I find are the shadows cast by that which lies yet up ahead and thus unclear. I move to the light of entropy and dream , not really sure which is holding sway over my attentions in the greater capacity, and starting to feel the strain of day to day existence as it is applied within the hierarchical confines of the society’s conditioned reflex. Philosophical maunderings muddle the already turgid flow of my evening inspirations, the chill of autumn’s wind washes its hand over the face of my days, causing me to bundle my dreams and keep them warm in the thoughts my heart holds when it sleeps. Perchance to dream, and the chance is given. It is the visionaries who read this dream who hold the dream come true, who see the light beyond the light and passed it beyond view in vision won by current effort spread across time and space with limits existing only outside the realm our immeasurable imagination can project. Coming soon to a literary communication device near you. Now, if only this can be directed to produce viable, steady and significant income then it’s all yours to have and to hold which would give me a break, and I wouldn’t mind the rest, for I am getting tired.... I’ll see you next year, whether I’m there (appropriately aged but with spare change to show for the spending) or not.