Rags...

Rags...

For what it's worth,

These bits of cloth,

Book covers,

The eyeball definition,

Shallow sea of perception,

Such a small mind space to cover.

Hippies,

Business casual,

Bums,

Lawyers,

Construction workers,

Techies and nerds,

Engineers,

Doctors,

Priests and nuns and saints,

Janitors,

Artists,

Waitresses and waiters,

The magic's with the tailors,

And I don't mean Swift.

We spend every day of our lives in rags,

Walking,

Talking,

Judges and juries unconscious.

The tribal stereotypes are comedy,

As we pay dearly in treasure,

Envious of the uniform of corporate slaves,

Give Dad another tie for Father's Day,

Shudder at the slightest off color,

Never mind the gutter-worthiness of patches.

I'd rather the tailor buy dinner for their family,

Than pay for fifteen minutes of Ivy League lecture.

Learn from the Fisher King.

Don't waste too much time,

Nor treasure,

Chasing Rags.

AquarianM 

By: Daniel A. Stafford 

© 03/30/2025

Compassion is the greatest sign of Humanity.

She Was Blue - Audio Poetry

 

Original audio CD cover (my artwork) from 2002

I actually performed this live once at the Green Mill Poetry Slam in Chicago. I was dressed at the time in a blue denim shirt, with blue jeans, and blue shades, and wearing a Fossil "Blue" watch. - Dan

Cigar Smoke In Old Havana - Audio

Life...

Life...

It's always the core,

Planets freeze without the Sun,

Radiant glory.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford 

(C) 03/22/2025

Compassion is the greatest sign of Humanity.

Anymore...

A Friend From The North...

It's not the wings that get you,

Mostly,

But the fierce intelligence,

Traveling the globe through the most spiritual places,

Seeing what would be quantum noise to us,

Places we are not,

Anymore.

In the undermind,

I call a friend,

Flight of the mind's eye,

Synchronized beats,

Playing three-D with empty space and time,

Where you are not,

That's mine,

Only because you don't listen,

Anymore...

The small tightness of detail,

The "anywhereness" of infinite scenes,

Elaborate wood carving of fantastica,

Too busy to practice pareidolia in mahogany,

You don't invest in purposeful months,

Anymore...

The quiet places,

Where you see what those places might be,

Inside your own head,

Outside of time,

The Universe between your ears,

You don't spend hours in,

Anymore...

Your time is carved into eighths of an inch,

Spit at you like machine gun fire,

Each tiny quanta painted in someone else's dream palette,

Not your own design,

Not,

Anymore...

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

(C) 03/22/2025

Another Article About "Night Owls" And Depression...

To Whom It May Concern,

As a 63-year-old "night owls," I would suggest that these results are largely due to society bludgeoning "night owls" (who are really second shift people) into living on first shift.

Early birds are complete bullies about forcing people into early hours, both at work and in private life. The early people don't even realize it, because they aren't forced day in and day out to fight their own body clock.

I've been told for 50+ years that "I'll get used to it." I'm still waiting for that to happen, while I spend 5 days a week, and sometimes 6, waking up still tired. I have to fight off sleep every time I stop moving and sit in front of a PC. I have to chew gum to keep from yawning my face off.

I believe the Geneva Convention from WW II classified sleep deprivation as torture. Still, millions of people are subjected to chronic sleep deprivation daily for decades on end with no relief.

Is there any wonder they're depressed? I imagine they face many health consequences in a forced "first shift first" world.

I hope all early people face at least a hundred lifetimes as night owls.

Regards,

Dan Stafford 

Temecula, CA

Compassion is the greatest sign of Humanity.

Paper Pyramids...

Paper Pyramids...

Cardboard and glue,

Colored pencils and geometry,

Steel ruler,

Curious mind,

Where right brain meets left hemisphere,

No stones of ancient Egypt,

This fabrication of necessity.

Like we never wonder,

Will there be anything left,

In five thousand years?

Paper Pyramids must become stone first,

A feat of ✨ magic,

Models of maybe,

Or tired working stiff countertop dreams.

No, 

Not the matches,

Please!

AquarianM 

By Daniel A. Stafford 

© 03-01-2025

I Just Can't...

I Just Can't...

...Listen to the news any more,

Gristle in my teeth,

Sticks in my coughing throat,

Steaming wet airless excitement,

Adrenaline river,

Sandy waters,

Dusty eyes,

Blistered arches,

Itchy @$$,

Techno-update headache,

Flat tires,

Busted rods,

Sunburned,

Salamander spit,

Spider-webbed hair,

Split fingernails and lemon juice,

Snake oil for sale on every corner,

Stolen wallet,

Well, that's a bit of the vibe.

All you can do is taste the Blarney Stone,

Or popcorn...

Pull the alarm...

AquarianM

By Daniel A. Stafford

(C) 02-28-2025

Dreaming About Drumming...

Dreaming About Drumming...

In my dream,

There are many things,

A brother with child's toys,

Dusting away in crevasses.

Crossing domains,

I am under a red sky,

Hazed with the falling night,

My spirit horse trots down from the stars.

In my hands the rhythm drones,

The reigns of another mind,

A continuous path of beaten sound,

Deep and resonate,

Resolute.

I await the path of mind,

Drumming for life,

Drumming for a future,

Drumming for love to win,

Drumming in my dreams.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford 

© 02/04/2025

Riding The Zero Hour...

Riding The Zero Hour...

Of the softness of late clocks,

A quiet of sleep's rose-petal edge,

A universe blossoms,

Living it's all between last blink and alarm,

Dreaming of slowing time,

Quantum-entanglement of hush and infinite possibilities.

AquarianM

© 01/07/2025 by Daniel A. Stafford