#unstressed

* standing on the precipice of the rest of my life  as are you -

wondering if apprehension, resignation, expansionism, naturalism or stoicism

will be my running buddy, confidante, consigliere, wingmanperson, foil or comic relief

while i continue to tread tamped time with intrepid steps in sneakers

eschewing stiff soles & sore toes, scuff marks on treasured terra;

a sub-macro goal for this simple soul.

someone said you never walk alone,

except when you're trying to collect a debt, then -

it's o solo mios 'til you get the cheetos.

nonetheless, it's a rarity to quest without an angel or devil by your side ( not on your shoulders, like in the 'toons...)

also known as having an ace up your sleeve, a good luck charm in your pocket, or the blues' lament of being born under a bad sign.

so, who's the wingperson to help me pull the pretty premise ( & their friends ) from the providential bar or club to take home & romance?

my money’s on authentic naturalism, if i was a bettin man...

* though current events appear to diminish obsidian shine

as they proliferate & germinate in mass consciousness,

those who're aware know the sheen can't be extinguished, unless we all are - personally

& that's a bridge too far - far as i can see; so folk would do well to let it be.

as for us, at our best we shall not relinquish the quest,

have any fear of being devout or caring what others do in the shakeout,

given an even playing field...

...or if not, guess we'll have to till & fill, sowing seeds by the mil - to vest;

to help the best crest, the rest quest

that we all may be blessed into & though the distress of striving

while we're just laughing, jiving like a liquored crowd on comedy night.

no matter where or when, we'll continue to fight for right,

not only wade, but sail, in b-boats* we’ll float (not aiming to gloat);

regardless, cream rises.

that's the base that others flail & try to erase, failing to make the case at face value;

because treasured souls always add grace & graciousness is always divine

* fear strikes out only to find no echo from the hollow void;

only sounds of a constant drone, babbling, generated  in artificial clusters, bits & bytes, simulated vocalizations...

doubt,   skittishly residing in a flesh & blood body uneasily rests alongside spirit & soul as well

infused to incline, motivate & be a counterpoint to the folly into which it can lead.

faith lays out a lighted path into... should you wonder where found or who, it's inside - supplied by you

& not some oracle from above, in its inclining toward the love you feel if you haven't been taught that it isn't real.

strip all religiosity - no man, no woman, organization, congregation or governing body of elders, founders, seers, kings or conquerors  may endow it...

just know  you didn't & they can not make a tree, a raindrop, a bee, a grain of sand, a truffle, giraffe or a galaxy ...any of 'em.

so the power that 'bees' resides in that which created these, above ( call it what you will );

however, what we can create & reveal is anything derived from such,

as we make it & make do for real, for the best, not from fear but out of love;

* saturated air holds much more than moisture to a discerner;

there's a cornucopia in the currents, a plenitude of possibilities, a plethora of prompts;

...much stuff, okay -

to be gleaned, extracted, assayed or inferred to break off & chew on - word;

simply by licking your finger, raising your hand in the air

( waving it like you just don't care...optional )

registering essence from the ether, filtering the sublime from the slimey  

via a tuned nervous system, sinew, a precise perspective point  

right on down to your innards for a gut's-eye view of the joint;

to digest, extrapolate, express...

lending passers-by a reason anew to no longer bemoan, be distressed or despair, while deep breathing this scion charged, verified air.

* ...sun rises eastward over the Lake, illuminating as i peek.

hope & optimism: first vibe; i wake up, open up...greet the day.

Miles' muted trumpet on my musical alarm ...the melody & improv amidst the 'changes'

sets my mind free to stalk life's latent treasures breaking constraints & the fear, doubting its value.

the vista's light guides my tread, each step forward paves a brighter path; possibility & promise at my 'tips for a finger roll at the cup, no cap.

darkness is never total  in it, there's always a spark guiding me Saiyan-style through the twists & turns, a Sudoku not yet cracked.

heaven may be vast & out of reach, but here on earth is my home, my haven:

savored sushi on sultry days, mojito or plum wine dusks, pen in hand most nights 

& here shall i embrace my days with family pocketing joy, wonder, eschewing tedious media thunder & strife...

* 12 cents left upon a store bench; in the day i'd have made a play, now i don't even flinch

skin flints & bad sense don’t really pay & my kin never raised me that way but hey - a dime ain't even a dollar worth swiping, out this mess like Wesley, so stop your sniping.

12 cents was bus fare in my heyday riding publlc trans’ trying to earn a payday not talking bout the candy bar but the cheddar -or lettuce if you will - put in a mason jar with loose change & crumpled dollar bills;

that was past tense, now incomparable today the way inflation's made prices immense  & crime pay, but who's to say if things can stop, go back like they used to be - i don't know; but you still need to check your booster in 2023, that’s fo sho sho.-

as for me, fully vaxxed, no cap; i'm not a rapper, f out of here with that; just maxxed with chat & flow, an OG in the undertow - understand, i’m from the 'Go, 'round Lincoln's lay of the land...

never bringing a bullhorn to a mike stand, commanding ovations with pen, avant among men, pointe en garde against the yang & their yen.

read/listen again if you miss ‘em: rhymed common sense in versed vents prepped so sweet you wanna kiss 'em   & tout suite - without the breath mints; penny for your thoughts tho, mon ami... better yet, 12 cents.

* "an urbanista with a hankerin'..."

just using that word tells you where this'n is goin’...

'midst city smog & hoggish folk today i'm hot as overfried eggs, not like those running yolks with legs you flavor & eat with toast.

nature's reign is deaf & muted here like old spices stored in mason jars set aside for rubes to revere - heaven forbid!

its easy to deride or kid proliferated prisons with a view & a door up 35 floors with a laid out grid below

an elision of blues, deck shuffling & a show for the easily amused - not me or you or those who know better.

to the letter - i’m uneasy with a putative peace englazed over street beats thought tantalizing to taste, thought sweet

not realizing the case to be made for unfettered skies under night's shade only - even better, pony rides without need for a tether or permit

from stony faces ( & hides ) unable to decode the grit encrusted in competence’ veneer. to all - i beseech, here... instead of reacting - relate, please - uncrease & emanate