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The New World Order

Tuesday, October 4, 2022

2 poems

all is all right

in the sun,
i'm with the beautiful one.
she is high caliber in her
faded blue jeans waist high,
white tank top, sparkling blue eyes.
we are wide-awake
on the rooftop
with a medley of sparrows
fluttering in midair
around her hair,
a bird halo,
spinning right there,
arms around each other,
feeling so high,
thinking, 'is this a still life wonder?
i could just dwell in this and always be
on top of it, feeling
just right' it's just right,
so perfect,
nothing can define it,
it's love and bliss,
with overpowering gratitude
for our Lord and Savior,'
fog drifts in from the East
there's nothing else we could ever need,
we see miles through the translucent air
and the view is just right,
in good time,
in right angles and cylindrical triangles,
in a fresh breeze and look down Main St.
there is a marching band parading
to the sound of patiently waiting
and there are eager people clapping
at the crash cymbal on cue,
sent down from the moon,
she is in a purple aura
of peaceful color
and pale sky blue umbrellas,
making up for others' lost time,
with indigo quail falling from
up on high, delicious prizes,
and the presentation,
stately, illustrious,
in this town,
in this city,
in this nation,
in a federation of nations,
all is all right
all of the time.

we are on our way

i'm on a tightrope today,
here today, here tomorrow,
our home crafted with a throne.

a dreamweaver wove my dream
last night, just right,
and her dreamcatcher caught it.
and here we are
wind chimes cooing out
a blissful melody, her noise,
our fresh air,
the moment she said it twice,
it flew through the air,
and it felt just right-
from all of our mutual understandings,
the dim-lit vapor is enough,
tapping on the radio,
her tap dancing shoes are in the
groove, of a siamese cat
from the harlem renaissance
lettin' it go.

and she and i
know the order
of the approach
we let out in
pure motion
of dignified,
brilliant type.

slow motion of the hands over the grapes,
and we are doing just right,
and the crust didn't rise today,
but we are feeling just fine,
we made it this far away,
we're on desert time,
and we're doing what we did yesterday,

worshipping in calm peace.
our Redeemer sent blessings our way,

and we have them today
with no need to worry about anything,
a fertile crescent is not too far away,

we're led there, and
the leading is in tune,
we commemorate the ruins
of century old civilizations
that were grateful passer-bys
directed our way,
passing through where the going is well,
and heading across the land to the well,
to drink some good, refreshing water
a day or two
the time right in tune
the right thing to do
once two by two
forming goodness out of
all things
so we sing
and we sing,

this civilization will not fade away,
it's spreading its wings,
it's on its way,
alive and well,
in embryonic shape,

and we're doing okay what's doing okay
and we're not here to change

and we lift up in praise
and worship
the name above all names.

poems by Ryan Ventriloquist