Literary Yard

Search for meaning

By: KJ Hannah Greenberg


A cyclone surged from deep in my soul
Moving low, goallessly over mountains
Athward valleys, odd terrain, it yielded
Not squall, degree, measure of damage.

Later, aspiration’s flowers, akin to prior,
Hardened stones, sprouted flames upon
Sand carpets, boasted red-orange petals,
Endless leafy conflagrations, boundless
Infernos meant to brighten old drought.

When wind blows extraordinarily stiff,
Heart and mind, together, find courses
To surmount loneliness, transcend arid
Moments. Scattered prospects regroup,
Bloom, fruit wastelands, elsewise bud
‘til wafting clouds once more disband.


OODA Loops

In schools and military installations, observing, orienting, deciding, and acting
Join as steps toward brilliant strategies. Yet, it’s more so the raw power behind
Personal development that makes these stages shine.

Decision cycles matter as much to boys and girls, youths, and grandparents
As to combat theorists. Whether to snatch a chocolate lolly from a sibling or
Resist for externalized virtue matters.

When directing private energy to thwart all manner of intimate, evil forces,
It remains best to keep on motoring through mantras, Sunday School lessons,
Even cannabis-enhanced wisdoms.

Time and again, filtering data, carefully, causes decisions to reveal themselves,
To allow the holding of the praiseworthy, to reject the interest of the appalling.
Editing counts when proceeding.



Given interpersonal simoons, we’ve a paucity of glue.
Without such connections, our mating’s merely some
Tortious exchange that belies many feelings we prior
Confessed to possess.

Previous orderly efforts barracked aggressions visited
On select segments of our unity. Thru key positions in
Time-space, we agitated, beheld gradations of shared
Excellence fade.

It’s tough to have dissonance. No longer does tilthing
Twinned moments strengthen our union’s provenance.
The wisdom, we built in the past, from amalgamated
“Correctness” is now gibberish.

So, you whing and I cry. Together, we’re barely the
Bezil of a hitherto polished gem, scarcely generating
“Elucidations” (we once abided under the influence
Of happiness.)

Presently, our pooled “explanations” blatantly assign
Fault to our hearts’ raths, to our spleen’s leakage and
To our livers’ issued pokeweed. It’s a shame that we
Can’t heal us.



Operational focuses for braggadocio regularly begin thru prolifigacies
That do little to enable the coordinated management of meaning. Such
Expressions frequently eviscerate any peace shared by penurious men.

Contrariwise, literary temerity often succeeds in obfuscating terms
Since addlepated persons tend to expostulate many points that they
Otherwise haven’t disparaged; they’re branded as extremely tetchy.

Better for us not to sus deconstructed pages unless we’re critiquing
Certain ukases, else making operose efforts to evaluate the rhetoric
Of past happenstances’ “truths;” issues of trust become immolated

Lambent findings, after all, tend toward illuminating groupings of
Topics from glittery hongs to dank chawls. Even when we expose
Intellectual exculpation, waywardness repudiates all cardinal sins.

Normative pluralism accedes to such biases, yields obnubilate ends.
Constrains them at objective level considerations, circumambulates
Metalinguistic stews Yet, justice requires consistency besides unity.

Lacking concupiscence, we’re bound to get redirected by balancing
All manner of defalcations. It’s not merely “the enslaved” who lack
Calculations for deterring untrue claims. We prefer being criminals.

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