In My Shoes...

In My Shoes...

If everybody walked,

In my shoes,

For maybe,

Just a mile or two...

If everybody walked,

In my shoes,

For maybe,

Just a mile or two...

They might just do,

Things the way I do.

You never know,

Always guessing,

How much is true,

Like some dream,

That you tried to grow,

Turned and flew,

Somewhere in a sky shaded blue.

If everybody walked,

In my shoes,

For maybe,

Just a mile or two...

If everybody walked,

In my shoes,

For maybe,

Just a mile or two...

You learn to keep,

Or just sweep,

It all deep down,

Swept under the carpet,

Turn that frown,

Upside down,

Walk another mile or two,

'Cause sometimes it's good for you.

If everybody walked,

In my shoes,

For maybe,

Just a mile or two...

If everybody walked,

In my shoes,

For maybe,

Just a mile or two...

Back in the day,

That was the way,

Something too forgotten,

When forgetting is rotten,

A way we need to teach,

While we reach,

For the Sun.

If everybody walked,

In my shoes,

For maybe,

Just a mile or two...

AquarianM 

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 10/27/2024

Autumn Ghosts In Amber...

Autumn Ghosts In Amber...

I want to find the latchkeys of time,

Unlock the molasses of linear,

Burst into the circle of infinity,

And find the box of everything there is to know.

Today's radio dials don't glow 🌟 warmly as they used to do,

No humming tubes in the vapor of a haptic universe,

The binary of dualty mind-glued to our hands,

Filled with Autumn 🍁 ghosts caught in amber.

I tune in an ethereal channel,

Like a wind up ghost fairy,

Her voice mists through my ears and transports me,

Mazzy Star ⭐ ✨ is Fading,

Leaving me haunting the dimension of poetry and undermind.

I will slip on a drumbeat,

Fly onto a wall somewhere back in time,

Listen like a spy to the past-due plans of Pleadean gods...

Somewhere after the witching hour,

I will walk the land of dreams to a drumbeat,

Wandering eternity like a poet,

Dribling of words of the source,

This bare trickle that freezes up in the Winter hours of my mostly mundane life.

Mostly...

AquarianM 

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 10/20/2024

In Ten Thousand Years...

In Ten Thousand Years...

Will anyone remember me,

In ten thousand years?

Don't we all wish they would?

Will anyone remember Thunder Pumpkin or Lotus in ten thousand years?

Hah! Will anyone remember Elvis and fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches in ten thousand years?

Will they petrify a pile of PBB's like pyramid stone?

They say Earth has another 900 million years of supporting life.

Like Kansas sang,

Dust, dust, dusty windy.

What *might* matter is the echo of our presence, faint as butterfly wings in a hurricane.

To quote an old friend,

Have a peanut butter sandwich.

Maybe fried with bananas.

I think love being the biggest part of my echo sounds good,

Dancing down the canyons of time.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 10/18/2024

Mental Twinkies For Nerds...

Mental Twinkies For Nerds... 

Magazines on glorious glossiuss paper,

In hand at a bookstore coffee shop,

Triple-shot latte and oatmeal-raisin cookie,

Slightly warmed.

Atlantis Rising with everything from alternative energy to ancient Egyptians in the Grand Canyon,

Races of ancient giants and lost pyramids in Eastern Europe.

Nexus with much of the same plus aliens and quantum physics,

Don't forget the occasional dinosaur.

Ancient American with copper mining in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan four thousand years ago,

Hebrew fortresses in down-State Indiana in 50 BC.

Be it biblical mysteries or libraries under the paw of the Sphinx,

Electrical power plants inside the Great Pyramid at Giza,

Or even hints at finding Atlantis,

I am in geeks' Heaven.

The hours are mere minutes,

And I am an arm-chair Indiana Jones in the temple of Caffeine,

The Eterniverse laid bare at my feet.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 10/10/2019

Don't Waste Autumn Leaves...

Don't Waste Autumn Leaves... 

A leaf wafts down spinning,

Slowly winding about,

Twisting color ,

Weaving through,

Waltzing the breath-misted Autumn air,

One among many,

Myriad,

No one can see them all,

In all appearance endless,

Timeless,

Paintbrush stroke in a masterpiece of infinity.

The leaf's time may be done,

Yet you are the one,

Knower of the nature of clocks.

Leaves fell before you,

They dance wind-swept past your feet,

A fractal bit of inconsequence,

As will more long after Winter has let you go.

I would whisper this to homeless kings,

But they already know.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 10/10/2020

Regards,

Dan