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Brinesanity – an abide jar, filled with all the fuqs given.

By

Change.

It was not possible for one to have to avoid the cold these days. The winter has a harsh bite, and you can find comfort in it. Warm and cradled in the warmth of the world that surround the cotton accounts and the flared sweat pants that scream of your disregard for judgment of others. In some, the action is to actually receive a judgment that needs to validate something.

Sunshine was abound, the skies were left for the sounds of the neighborhood “no frills” – a place where “they” would come. It was convenient.

Not so convenient for one walking in to it, in order to buy the produce that had not been purchased by the Rolls Royce shopper. Down at the docks, with a driver holding the caviar and the tasting stick near him somewhere. He would not be able to select the freshest or the best without these tools. Without this sommelier sorting system, that had the right of first refusal on even those 1000 crates.

Yes, hold them for me. If I want them, great – else, take the 30% deposit as juice that will take the nutrients from the food that was grown and made for all, by the hands of a God or of the Universe, still made and created with time and with love and hope for a sense of continuity and health – yes, take that and allow it to rot and ferment, age into disregard by my patrons, but you can sell it to some other schlep grocer to sell.

Here I am Mr. Grocer, thanks for the surroundings. Reminds me of the tins of preserved food that was fed to the soldiers, as the real food and the budgets and the oils to keep these young men that fought for their countries freedom, warm. They don’t need to be warm though, they are warm enough from their hearts and the love that comes from them as they evade taxes and cheat and lie.

The way of the world it seems.
Welcome to the machine.

Annoyance, irritation and frivolous thought having to wonder alone in the aisles today, mine was awareness and a sense of what is real and true. A seeming ability to see through and feel the people around me, many of them smiling and looking into my eyes as if they knew that as I passed the sad old lady, with a cart carrying all of the stereo types one needed to broadcast who she was, but you were hearing a signal on another frequency.

Your chords, strummed the notes of disdain, and not compassion for being aware of what could be. This is much different than the contempt one feels for liars, or known cheats. People that have attempted to lie, cheat or steal the way through the system, and even they, if they “repent” (*for lack of interest in clarifying, yours is the religious inference, mine is the literal one of a man born into a state of nature, knowing the difference between cold steel and a veil) shall be given a smile, and an exchange of the walk on part for the lead role in their own cage.

The sadness in life, and what someone has to do to overcome it, will come in drops and in stages, all of use battling to get out of the cage and cut through to the freedom that lays on the other side, with no interest in anything but embracing even the hardships and knowing you had come from that time, you had lived that – you had been there, and the place you may or may not be living in right now, is not something that can allow you to simply avoid the true questions.

One only you can answer.

Gus thought of his my mother and the things that they had done to get there. She took the place of the lady at the front of the line – that was behind the one with the wheelchair. That was bad enough, a mood had begun to stir, and the frustrations of the time ticking by with all of these things, cans and bottles, heavier with each pant that she had to take.

It was the matrix, my matrix.

So pretty momma, so proud to be standing there. It did everyone well to see you so beautiful in what you have accomplished. Incredible to learn and re-live the struggles of our lives, an earlier life and of a time, that is not a requisite requiem for a dream so much as a symphony of the miracle and the life you have lived. To know the heart that has born so much, to see through the eyes of the only lady who has stood beside me as the true mother, regardless of hardships and triumphs – always there. Always has wanted to be, and done as much as she could do – to simply walk. The story is of another level that requires nothing more than the snap of a crisp joint. Odd the sound of the snap being like coins hitting metal.

The proud look had seemed so clear and in front of me, but before me now stood a poor woman who has gone through so much, that she had little left to do but to dump her change on the counter and hope it added to the sum needed to pay for the food.

Keeping her eyes low, she gathered her selected items and waited for the tidbits to be returned to her.

Items were left on the conveyor, not his turn yet.

She had left a small box of Jello at the end of the bag section, and he noticed it – appreciated it for what it was, something important – just a small thing, some powdered gelatin for a small desert, and some kind of treat to eat after dinner.

There was no cause of alarm, nobody noticed, no one would have.
It was smooth, like the flash of the silver under the beaten jacket and the track pants – never seen.

The only person who would notice, and then never have noticed is that beautiful lady, with a life that was not asking, but received.

What she received was enough to make the next several months better, and in doing that, the world became a better place.

Just as it is, just because.

Don’t try, he said.

*abide*

By

Orange snail trail.

Ever danced on the edge, under the orange skies?

Freedom is a choice, not a mandate.

Getting sum, is just another equation.

*abide*

By

The Dawning of the New Age – Gustardius, 2013 a.d.

The magic of a wandering mind, flattered to think of the sequence of random patterns on a distant meadow, a timed brineline. Ring with the smile of the speaking Orange, annoying but necessary for entertainment one would argue, ascending to the throne with a reefer gavel, crushing legislation with petrified Twinkie dreams. Spongy Pelosi, beware. Tis is the dawning, of the age of Gustardius.

3:33 is the magic number, the magic time. The reference is tied to the hope of a numbered beast never presenting a rearing head, but more so to the image of confronting self in the mirror, and knowing that is half of the battle. Seeing the half way mark, to the end of the world.

According to the sage wisdom of all of the pages that have survived before mine. It must be true, it was written on the internet – by someone that can replicate quite simple cut and past activities, and combine that with some kind of creative content, and then you can start to pass and write your own bills and before you know it, you will be calling on you neighbours, and anyone that will listen, that you need a chamber of sober second thought, and the toll bell sang, and the heralded “angels” declared;

He sat there one day and had reflections
A glass of Crown in his hand
Ludicrous, obscured connections
All tangled and brazen plans.

Well you abide, on the miles that you own
Well you ride, on the rug like a stone
Well you hide, like the grass is your home
But when you die inside, you find
You might lose your kind.

He had spoken, down at the reception
Pimping out his, grin and juice
Preaching, “We gonna synthesize, cortex connections!
Money back, or full abuse!”

Well you abide, on the miles that you own
Well you ride, on the rug like a stone
Well you hide, like the grass is your home
But when you die inside, you find
You might lose your kind.

*then they wanted to smoke a J with Gus, and so they did…angels abide in the same orange grass man.

*abide*

02-16-2013

By

Remote.

Fetaman – Num Num – Its a Party Invite

Bring Your Own Remote.
VIP Guest list.

*abide*

02-16-2013

By

Greek. Unidentified. Specimen. (2-1-13-1)

2-1-13-1 “Heaven holds no lies.”

An arm, two legs, an eye.

Symbolic, perhaps.

What is wealth?

You know, you must.

You know even how to capture.

Such a rebel.

*shakes the fetaglobe*

You got it right?

*salt stairs sparkle*

Go ahead, pick a card.

*fire lenses, logic*

Me, no – I don’t owe you anything until you identify yourself. There are two sides to every story, just as there is fact behind fiction, and fiction behind fact.

Until it is, and then, it just is.

Why the worry, just a little orange grass…is that a problem?

*abide*

02-16-2013