On those mornings when
 all his muscles were in tune,
   all his thoughts flexed and toned,
     all his family and friends fine,
       the birds singing,
         the dogs wagging,
           the coffee perking,
            the sun a’rising and the breeze a’blowin’ –
              one man would often go into his back yard,
                 stretch out in the grass,
                   gaze up into the sky and exclaim with the mother of all grins:
                    “Life! –  you ole rascal you.”

At a gas station in You Fooled Me Again, New Mexico a man rolling in a recap
noted how the human mind is programmed to always be on the lookout for the worst possible scenarios, and yet how the truly worst are beyond the mind’s ability to alter.
His assistant with the air hose added: “What purpose does that serve, I wonder?”
Fact: When it becomes clear that the train is undoubtedly going to run off the tracks
up ahead, the normal passengers unavoidably think about it  –
what the hell else do you expect from normal human beings!
The reason that wet birds don’t fly at night is that they heard the maxim which says they don’t.....which birds earlier composed.....for reasons unclear to them....but they needed something to fill the time as they awaited their train to plough the terrain.
The reason Jazz has never infiltrated Philosophy is that good soloists can’t find suitable back-up musicians.
(If any wet bird does soar at night  –  he does it alone.)
In the little town of Neurons As Birds, the mayor [pertinent to this proverb] said  –
well, you can easily imagine what he said.)
 
 

Chapter One: There was a guy who had the damnedest visions  –  but he never told anyone  –   why?  –  ‘cause he assumed everyone had them.
Chapter Two: Everyone has visions  –  but most people’s are the damnedest ones.
 
 

No matter how distasteful it may sound to outsiders: ordinary men will pay liberally
to hear their ordinariness described in excruciating detail –
but not so what they might could be.
 
 

One man says that if you dream of flying it represents a danger that
you won’t then actually GO flying.
 
 

Immediately upon awakening each morn, one man (assuming the voice of someone who just stepped into an elevator) cuts his eyes toward his frontal lobes and says: “Going up?”
 
 

Once your ears are in tune: all sleepers sound alike.
 
 

To man’s ordinary consciousness, life’s systems oft seem so unthinking & detached
that power may be taken for cruelty:
thus men mentally taking their lives so personally, and thus the way things need to be for life’s life (via human consciousness) to be as it is.
(Thus as always, furthermore and again: “Truth is in the eye” [assuming veracity is brown, blue or green.])
 
 

One prisoner says he has discovered that his brain talks to him,
(and though he quickly added that he didn’t find it a big deal,
it is still an uncommon realization for those confined).
Just outside of I Don’t Get It, Ohio, a chap says the town was named for his family.
The certain man executes his primary duties (as if there is a choice),
and takes into account his secondary ones (since his relations with ordinary people depend thereon); everything else he pursues is to satisfy his personal muses.
    (“And is nobody’s business but his, huh Pa?!”
“And just barely that.”)
 
 

Literary News.
What would be the all time best seller in the city regarding man's primary reality
would be a book entitled:
“But Through It All We Yet Cling To That Warm, Safe, Wet & Horny Biscuit.”
In prison: hormones still ride high, but the shouts of thrills on the merry go round
come from the mouth of neurons.
And one chap pondered: “What kind of place is this we live in  –
where you’re charged for things you never receive,
and you receive things you never asked for?
Is this any way to run a business?!           ------                          evidently.”
 
 

One man’s in-house personal motto is: “No Waiting –  No One’s In Line But You.”
 
 

All true poets have a natural enemy  –  and, no  –   not merely critics.
 
 

While in standard settings it may be true that: Two wrongs don’t make a right  –
three can: this is why the law governing the
Enlightened Inequities Of Verbally Imposed Imbalance dictates that
you never take the word of twins.
Two headed monsters but babble – only medusa can speak the truth.
“But jeeze! – you’d have dozens of translators all yammering at the same time
trying to tell you what she’d said  –   Jeeze Clairese!  --
 –  give us break!  –  that’d be no better than our current situation,”
said a guy as he took a gander at his own normal mental operations.
 
 

Prison is no place for a poet.
(Though there is no shortage of those therein who will rhapsodize over
their apparently pleased fascination with confinement.)
“What sort of world is this in which we find ourselves born,” mulled one man,
“where crabs are content to crawl; sharks to swim; falcons to fly,
but men vehemently deny that they walk as they do?
What could be the purpose for this apparent foolishness?”
For the inner explorer-cum-academic: If the question is: foolishness  –
the answer is not more of the same.
Soon does the certain man understand that no second reality carrousel
can be remodeled –  only disembarked.
 
 

One chap says that after living fifty odd years in the city,
he is now damn near convinced
 
 

Cows and prisoners who stick with their own kind
never have cause to be embarrassed.
 
 

The certain man’s daily paper is without advertising, Letters to The Editor,
or an Op-Ed page      (unless he makes them up......same as he does the news.)
 
 

P.S. You can never fully grasp what is really going on with life while you have stuff stuffed away in the attic.