I have posted a lot of rhoems on this site for the next sixty years just because I could. I'm going to leave them up, even though I am still extant.
In this case, I have posted a series of rhoems from the book Infini Entendre consecutively after this post (I forgot to move this post). If you like the ones you read, they are published in a book named Infini Entendre. A few others will be scattered over the next sixty years, if this site lasts that long.
The interesting thing about these few I post here is that they were written long before I gained a sentient perspective. They helped me clear away the cobwebs of our current sad existence somewhere beyond the animal but far from our sentient home.
It may not be possible for you to follow what I am saying here but, in many cases, consider the start of the rhoem as if I set myself an issue to solve (I certainly didn't consciously or intentionally do so but my mind works in mysterious ways). The end of those poems can be perceived as an attempt to resolve it. It worked pretty well in my estimation.
Only, maybe, five poems out of literally thousands that I wrote, end on a dour note. I don't think you will find any of those in the book or here. How can one drive forward through the utter miserable nonsense that we endure without bashing through it on a ringing note rather than just accepting our dour state? I guess there are other ways. There are certainly other ways.
I'm not gone yet, though I'll leave this post and what it implies. Sooner or later, it will apply. I'm beginning to believe it will take a body or mental breakdown to force my hand. The mental breakdown is most worrisome but my mind is crazy active, so it seems unlikely. It's still a scary thought. As the cajun joke goes, "how it know?"
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