[A] is for
An
Archer with
An
Arrow through his
Adams
Apple, very
Applicable, to the
Ample
Amounts of
Amiable
Attitude,
Adorning his heart, in
After
Action
Attributes, that impart, the
Admiration, of
*******, in this
Acting out of
Arrogance bit. he is,
Astute, in his
Allure, and
Aloof, in the
Air, of
Aspiration, in which, he was
Alienated in the
Agony, of
Asking
Assassins, the
Aforementioned. lights, camera,
Action. recipe of the
Ancient
Admirals of
Avian
Aliens, that
Attacked, with the
Arms and fists, of
Arachnids, now
Aching to be
Activated in sudden
Allegiance to the
Answers, of the truth.
Accumulating wealth for
Anarchy's of
Abating
Angels in
Atrophied,
Alchemical
Academies of the ever
After life .. . of silence.
****** strengthens in these
Accolades of violence, in
Alliance to
Appliances
Appearing in the
Arson of
Apathy, happily, to
Anguish in the
Amputation of my
Abdomen, if it meant i'm a real
American, even, when, only
Ash, remains.
Acclimating in its remains
Attained, the
Articles of my pain, in
Affluent shame, next time ..
Aim... oak
[A]?

[B] is for the
Bah of
Black sheep, and
Big
Bit¢hes, fat cats,
Bombarded in the
Blasted,
Bastion of
Blackened
Benevolent
Blokes,
Berating the
Blasphemous,
Be-seech, of
Brains, to feel
Bad, about the
Blotching of
Binary codes, erroding, the
Blanked out
Books, of
Belittled
Bureaucrats,
Bowling
Back the
Bank rolls of
Betterment, from the
Back of the
Blackened
Bus, as i'm
Busting guts, in the
Bubbling
Butts, of *****
Benched, but
Beautiful, in the
Battle, in the
Bane, of existence.
Baffled, in the strain of
Belligerence, in
Beating the
Beaming
Butchery into
Billy's
Broken
Brains, in
Bouts, of
Battering
Bobby's for
Bags of
*******
Before, affording to
Build
Bombs, is just
Beyond
Breaking
Beer
Bottles on the
*******
Benefactors of
Boulder
Bashing with the
Beaks, of
Birds, with no
Bees. just a
Being, trying to
[B]


[C] is for the
*****
Courting the
Choreography, in
Computerized
Curtains,
Circumventing the
Cultured,
Contrivance of
Chromatic
Cellars,
Calibrating, to the
Contours of
Calamities,
Celebrating the
Cyclical,
Cylinders of
Cyphered
Calenders,
Correcting the
Calculations, of
Crooks
Coughing, in
Courageous
Coffins of
Canadians,
Collecting
Cobble stones, from
Catacombs, in the lands of the
Conquered,
Capturing the
Claps of thieves, sneaky
Cats, of greed. its
Comedy. oh
Comely, to my
Cling of
Cleanliness, and for your self
[C]

[D] is for the
Dip *****, as they
Delve
Deeper in the
Deliverance, of
Deviant
Deities,
Dying to
Demand
Dinner
Delivered in the throws of
Death,
Deceiving
Defiance of
Darkened
Dreams,
Demeaning that which
Deems the
Dormant of the
Dominant, to be
Demons of
Deviled
Devilry,
Dooming us for
Destruction.
Deploy the,
Damsels in
Duress.
Defiled and
Distressed,
Detestable and
Dead. in the thump of
Drums,
Dumbing down the
Debts of,
Dire regrets.
Dissect the
Daisies of,
Disillusion, in the current
Days,
Diluting night into
Dawn,
Disconnecting the
Dots of the
Dichotomy, and arming me, in the
Diabolatry, of,
Demonology, as i watch me
Dwindle away, the
[D]

[E] is for
Everything in nothing,
Eating the
Euphoric
Enigmas of
Enlightened
Elitists,
Exceeding in the
Extravagant
Essence of
Esoteric
Euphemisms,
Escaping the
Elegance of the
Elements in the
Eccentricity of
Eclectic
Ecstasy,
Exhaling, the
Exostential blessings, of inner
Entities, and renouncing the
Enemies of my
Ease,
Easily to appease
Extraterestrial
Empires,
Extracting the lost
Embers of
Enlightenment, in
Excited delight, but to later
Entice, the fight, and
Escape, like a thief into the night of
Everywhere,
Entering the
Exits of
Elevators leading no where, to
Elevate, this useless place,
Encased in malware in the
Errant
Errors of
Every man,
Enslaved, of flesh and
Entrails,
Enveloping the core of
Everything, that matters,
Enduring, the chatter, of
Evermore,
Ever present in
Everybody
Ever made to take
[E]

Funk the
Ferocity of
Foolish
Fandangos, with
Fanged
Fanatics,
Fooled in the
Fiasco of
Fumbled
Fantasies,
Falling through the
Farms of
Freely
Found
Fans,
Flying in the
Fame of
Fortune.
Fornicating on the
Fallen
Fears of
Fat
Fish getting their
Fillet of
Fills.
Feel me in the
Frills

Granted with
Generosity.
Giblets of
Gratitude and
Greed,
Greeting the
Goop and
Gobbled
Gore,
Gleaned from the
Glamour of
Ghouls in
Gillie suits,
Getting what they
Got
Going, in the
Gratuitous
Gallows of a
Game
Gaffed by
Giants.

Hello to the
Horizon of
Hellish
Hilarity, in
Hope of
Happy, to
Heave from
Heifers, to
Help the
Hemp
Harshened
Hobos in
Heightened
Horror, to
Honor the
Habitats of
Hapless
Habituals,
Herbalising the work
Horse, named
Have Not, in the
Haughtily
Hardened
Houses of
Happenstance.

Ignore the
Ignorant
Idiots, too
Illiterate to
Indicate the
Indicative
Instances of
Idiom in the
Irrelevant
Inaccuracy of
I,
In the
Intellect of
Idle
Individuals,
Irritated with the
Irate
Illusion of
Idols
Illustrated upon the
Iris,
In the
Illumination of
I.

******* the
Jobless
Jokers, and
Jimmy the
Jerkins from their
Jammie's, in
Justified,
Jousting off the
Jumps, in
Jokes, and
Jukes of
Just
Jailers,
Jesting for
Jammed
Jury's to
****
Judgment from the
Jitter
Juiced
Jeans of
Jesus.

**** the
Keep of
Khaki-ed
Kool aid men,
Kept in the
Kilometers of
Kits,
Kin-less
Kinetics,
Knifing the
Knights of
Kneeling
Kinsmanship,
Keeling over the
Keys of
Kaine, with the
Karmic
Karate
Kick of a
Kangaroo.

Love the
Levity, in the
Luxurious
Laments of
Loveliness,
Lovingly
Levitating in
Level,
Lucidly.
Living in
Laps, of
Lapses,
Looping, but
Lacking the
Loom of the
Latches
Locked with
Leeches of the
Lonely
Lit
Leering of
Lightly
Limbs, that
Lash at the
Lessers in
Loot of
Lost letters,
Lest we
Learned in the
Lessons of
Liars.

Marooned in
Maniacal
Masterpieces,
Masqueraded as
Malignant
Memorization's of
Motionless
Mantras, but
Merrily
Masking
Mikha'el the
Mundane, who is
Musically
Mused of
Monsters,
Mangling the
Monitor, but
Maybe just a
Moniker of
Marauders.

Never to
Navigate the
Nautical
Nether of
Never
Nears.
Not to
Nit pic the
Naivety of
Nicety.
Notions
Neither take
Note
Nor
Name the
Noise of
Nats in the
Nights of
Neanderthals
Napping in the
Nets of
Ninjas

Ominous in the
Obvious
Omnipotence of
Oblivious
Obligatory
Opulence,
Of
Other
Oddly
Orchards
Of
Offices,
Ordaining
Orifices in
Offers of
Ordinary
Ordinances in
Option-less
Optics,
Optionally an
On-call Oracle, in
Optimal,
Overture.

Perusing the
Pestilent
Pedestals of
Personal,
Parameters,
Pursuing the
Petty
Plumes of
Piety with the
Patience of a
Pharaoh,
******* on the
People with the
Penal
Pianos of
Port-less
Portals, in the
Paperless
Points in the
Palpal
Pats of
Pettiness.
Poor, but
Prideful.

Quick to
Qualify the
Quitter for a
Quick
Quill in
Queer
Quivering of
Quickened
Questioning,
Queried in the
Quakiest of
Quandaries.
Quarantined to a
Quadrant, of
Quagmires.
Questing the
Quizzing of
Quotable
Quartets.

Relax in the
Relapse of
Realizations, and
React with
Racks of
Rolling
Rock to
Rate the
Rep of the
Rain-less.
Roar in
Rapturous
Rendering of the
Random
Readiness in the
Ravenous,
Rallying, of the
Retinal
Refracting of
Reality.
Realigning, the
Righteous
Rearing of the
Realm, and
Retrying.

Steer the
Serenity in
Sustainability, and
Slither through the
Seams of
Slumbered
Scenes.
Secrete the
Solo
Sobriety of
Sapped
Sassys,
Salivating upon a
Slew of
Stupidity,
Steadily
Supplied in
Stream,
Suitably
Slain in the
Steam of
Sanity.
Sadly, i
Still
Seem,
Salvagable.

Topple
The
Titans in
Tightened
Terror.
Torn
Territories
Turn
Turbulent in
The
Teething of
Totality.
The
Telemetry of
Time,
Tortured of
Torrent
Theories,
Told in
Turrets of
Transpiring
Terribleness, from
Tumultuous
Tikes unto
Teens,
Trading
Toys for
Tea.
Thrice
Thrusted upon by the
Tyranny of
Tanks.

Unanimous is the
Ugliness in the
Undertones of
Undreamed
Ulteriors
Undergoing the
Unclean in the
***** of
Utterly
Upset
Users,
Uplifting the
Unfitting
Ushers in
Underwear-less,
Ulcers,
Undergoing the
Ultra of
Uberness.

Venial in
Vindictive
Viciousness of
Vindicated
Venom,
Venomously
Vilifying the
Vials of
Villainy in the
Veins of
Vampires,
Validity of
Valuable
Violence, is
Valiant in the
Vaporous
Vacationing of
Vagrant
Vices.

Why
Whelp in the
Weather
When you can
Wave to the
Whirling
Wisps,
Whipping Where the
Whimsical Were
Way back in the
Wellness of
Whip its,
Wrangling my
World,
With
Waterless
Worms, as
War shouts are
Wasted in the
Wackiest
Walks of
Waking
Wonder.

Xenophobic
Xenogogue, of
Xenomorphic
Xeons, turn
Xyphoid, in the
Xenomenia of my
X, my
Xenolalia of
X, to
***. im lost in the
Xenobiotic zen of
Xerces, on a
Xebec to the
X on the map.
Xenogenesis, in the
Xesturgy of my
Xyston
Xd

Yelling
Yearned from
Yelping.
Yard
Yachts
Yielding, to the
Yodel of
Yeah
Yeahs, to the
Yapping of
******
Yuppie
Yoga
Yanks, over
Yonder.
Yucking it up with the
Yawn of a
Yocal.

Zapped from a
Zone i
Zoomed with
Zeal in the
Zig and
Zag of my
Zapping
Zimming
Zest, upon a
Zombie-less
Zeplin.
Zealot,
Zionist, or
Zoologists,
Zeros or ones, just
Zip your
Zip locked. and
Zzzzz
Zzzz
Zzz
Zz
Z
Zero

Eratic Plastic Dysphemistic Euphemisms

the rain in Spain
falls mainly on the plain
while the dome in Rome
is a place to call home
and the gazoot in Beirut
is in cahoot
with the Neo in Reo
and his brother Theo
and Levi in Shanghai
munches blueberry pie
the roast on the coast
has been burnt like the toast
and my frog on the log
barks like a dog
its a pity how gritty
it is in ** Chi Minh City
never challange Mr Wong to play ping pong
in Hong Kong
or smoke a bowl with a mole
in old town Seoul
or the gendarme will storm
the crowd in Pittsburgh

Gomer LePoet...

Euphemisms are a wonderful thing
you can't deny the joy
such pretty lies bring

"Can I just let go?"
Is me saying
I'd very much like to die

But to you
it may mean
I need to cry

I’ve been reading a bit about positivity, this past hour.
I have been trying to project what I’ve read, mentally, in scenarios where I’m under stress to see how things work out.

I couldn’t make peace with the fact that sometimes letting go and keeping quiet is the best course of action.
That sometimes, just sometimes, shutting up and letting things happen is the only way to get over a bad situation.
The fallout can be dealt with. The one percent of our animal nature within helps us rebuild every time.

I can feel an uneasiness settling, making its home in the center of my being.
Writhing in malcontent and uneven distaste, counterbalanced hatred for this feeling I’m riddled with. Where is the good in all this?
Is that what forgiveness is? Swallowing the bitter pill? Turning a new leaf?
Among other euphemisms for being a **** up.
Something that’s very hard to do.

Two minds too blind to make themselves up. Nothing is accomplished in confusion.
One kills while the other cries.
Despair and hope side by side, waiting for one to rise and the other to fall.
Positivity is elastic, it can be stretched to fit over what you deem right.
It can be mistaken for a rush of energy, a thirst for life, a sense of achievement, an inebriated night.
All the while festering, brooding, decaying inside, a heart of sadness, that once did smile.

I remember when the chemo failed,
your family asked the doctors "isn't there something you can do?"
they turned to me, like I was guilty,
and said "no, you're wrong, this can't be true".
"palliative care" "hospice" "comfortable" euphemisms fell from my mouth,
they tasted bitter like acid and lies--
I wanted to scream and cry and tear my heart out.

At night I lay in an empty bed,
and when I sleep I dream,
I wake up next to a body bag,
my mouth too terrified to scream.

Millions of men with matchsticks
Brought their heads to
The oceans of kerosene
******* forged their existence
And they weren't able to retaliate
Thousand whispers of desire
Of living a peaceful life
Echoed among the mountains
And between the valley of death
Days were enumerated and artifacts collected
The stories seemed to be a passage full of euphemisms
A dystopian atmosphere took over their utopian views
The matchstick was struck
And humanity collapsed.

I told them,  “I don’t feel sorry for Robin Williams.
He lived it. Coke-fueled, bearded trickster of ******.
Well traveled and well versed, raging into worlds
Physical and ephemeral, like a ghostly bull
Goring mortals to unfeel the estoques
Sunk deep into his vital corpse.”

I had a friend who blew his brains out
While his parents were watching tv in the living room
And another who rented a room at the Marriott
Then hung himself off the shower-rod

Both early 20s
You won’t see them on the big screen
Or hear their witty banter on interviews
Chic celebs won’t eulogize them
On “Extra”, “TMZ”,  or “Access Hollywood”
No 2 minute montages
At award shows, while tuxes and gowns float
Clapping in ovation behind the shimmering façade
Of golden statues

They got a few lines in an obituary, in A7
Those who knew them will speak in hushed euphemisms
No one daring to whisper “suicide”
As if it’s the ****** Mary of deaths
Like walking under a ladder, or breaking a mirror
The mirror containing, like smoke, the future
The jagged shards reflecting moonlight faintly

I love them all the same

I go about things the English way
With careful consideration
And euphoric euphemisms
Ever so polite on the outside
While internal I’m feeling infernal
And the only reason why I can
Is because I’m a ****** English gentleman

I can see the weakness
in my own words- their
weary Translucence,

even as I
wind my euphemisms and parry
****
snip the comma off,

attempt to catch my thoughts
before venom leaks out
of my em-dash.

but I can't.
Won't.
take back any
noun I flung

And So.

as you
walk down the hall

I see my adjectives
Just-
dripping off your
neck
rolling down the corridor

fat, black
and innocuous

and somehow feel
that I have
completely failed

at English.

My words have gone walking again.
They got up and left,
slamming the door behind them.
I think it's been a long time coming and a slow spiral downwards;
lately I've been speaking in euphemisms and grandeur that only
I can make sense of
(maybe my jokes just stopped being funny to everyone around me).

My words have gone walking again.
They slipped out the open window,
caught a ride west and said,
"She'll be fine on her own. She always is."

Third times the charm,
my words have gone walking again.
They took off on a horse with no name
and hopped a train to Clarksville.
Alphabet soup has come to life,
but not with my choice in spoonerism.
My head's not quite in my hands,
but my shoulders are keeping it hinged.
Come back soon, my mouth feels empty
and my tongue has no flap nor tap left without you.

We played with words
and peddled euphemisms,
as we hid behind veils.

We had reality
twisted and bent.
We chided and spat
into the winds
of coercing gales.

I feel like God hates me
Or stopped caring
Ceased to provide
Left for good

And now I'm left here to straighten myself out for better or for worse

I've met people who feel the same way
Who surprisingly have the pincushion audacity to put all the blame of their misfortunes in the absence of the omnipotent one  
I just feel abandoned they feel betrayed

Maybe he makes a chump change commission on every life he guides to a certain point then leaves them stark naked at the haunting hour

I know all the preachers and secular teachers lie through their teeth
They win the merit-less hoax award by a landslide
They have no consideration of for the people they mislead or the ramifications their poisoned sermons causes

They use emotionally charged language to increase the parish's numbers
They're terrified of God, they live in fear
And see carpal tunnel as a punishment for ******* and wish blindness upon all those who partake

There is shared consensual hiraeth between those who have been through an invasion of privacy and the trespassing of private property
They want their rights and their guns back
They want their personal space
They retreat to their happy place

Let's go back to the Pantheon of lactose intolerant divine idols
Of epileptic godheads
Who's line of work is about incubated pie pans

Can you make a tutorial that summarizes the resounding reduction of options using nothing but euphemisms?

Sounds rather risqué, right?
Like an unmentionable body part.
Not a person you might care about.
No the other half of your heart.
Not my partner or sweetheart
Not my husband or my lover.
Any of those titles above
Will appropriately cover.

No, they call me your friend,
Your little buddy, your ‘thing’.
That last one I always suffer
As particularly insulting.

But, not my watchacallit,
My whatever, or such euphemisms.
They hit me like less than kind
And disapproving colloquialisms.
I mean, how would you feel
If I referred to your wife like that?
Calling her your sidekick or
Something like a stray cat?

I have no problem with asking
How my honey is doing today.
After all, that’s really who he is.
He’s my sweetheart every day.

So, think for a moment, please
Before you begin to speak.
Your lack of sensitivity can
Only make you look weak.
Just because we didn’t choose
The path you chose to take
Doesn’t mean you’re better than I
So, give this bigotry stuff a break.

He’s my partner and sweetheart
He’s my husband and my lover.
Any of those titles above
Will appropriately cover.

To you
I want to be an open book
want you to pick me up, dust me off, take another look
But my pages haven't been traced in ages
not by fingertips or by faces

open me up
I don't care if you have to crack my spine
If that's what it takes to see through this cover o mine
then snap me open
and lace your fingers, let traces linger
over the calligraphy carved into my core
match the curve of my vertebrae
with questions that ask me if i am my metaphor

I have a plethora of pages, an abundance of euphemisms
inscribed into my essence, in a sense
I AM words
words that are not satisfied with being scanned
words with a hunger to be studies, syllogized
words that wish to be read over and eaten
by ravenous eyes and enfamished minds

Scour the syllables ensconced in me
etch and re-etch them with your pen
hold the precious print close to your skin
be a hungry page, and let the ink sink deeper in
I'll be a book and you be my scribe
look so close at my words that you lose sight of the divide
seek and discover
my heart inscribed
in every letter
every line

I say, come out here and smell the air
just know the truth, it's no proverb
we'll walk in the same direction
an alliteration of great affection
let's become someting else
a new letter in the alphabet
one not needed but sure to bet
euphemisms to this bland world
a hyperbole for us to hurl
think and feel and get to see
a portmanteau of you and me
it may be a cacophony
enjoying the sun in a balcony
but in the end its all like this
no order in front, below or above
a sweet oxymoron
individuals falling in love

red light flashing on CNBC
hawkish fed and supply chain disruptions
an acid tongue analyst argues via zoom
black gold due to reach the sky
rotation warranted and ISM doomed

transitory or not
the fiery fall colors
are waiting to burst out,
outside, the windows of 30 W 63rd St.

this is where
her heart resides,
reverberating a song
titled  ‘stone cold reality’

here,
unconditional love
speaks only the truth,
while the rest
wax eloquent euphemisms.
 
diligently probing charts of 10-year bonds,
i see her chiseled face with glasses and all,
in the web of shadows
whispering
one and one name alone!


© 2021

left cup runneth over/

right cup half empty/

if I add my left cup size to my right cup size what will I get/ DD + D = DDD/I've never been great at math/but this is no/miscalculation/

I am 36 DD confined to a 36 D bra/

(D)Disgorges over the underwire/

D--you flaccid beach ball/I wish I could reinflate you/part my mouth around your ******/and/
breathe/

no one can tell/unless I wear a tight bodice/then/you are/obnoxiously evident/

I am afraid of introducing you to my future boyfriend/will he still want to undress me/will he still want to make love to me/

will he still want to touch you/

you/

sea urch/in/the palm of my hand/

even I am hesitant to hold you close to me/

you/

strangulated bagpipe/

moulting pompom/ B-O-O-B/
what's that spell/
what's that spel/
what's that spe/
what's that sp/
what's that s/
what's that/

what is that/

what/

who are you/

you/

waning gibbous/

my metaphors wane, also/it turns out there are only so many euphemisms that can be assigned to an/ill-proportioned breast/

itsy bitsy titsy/

you make me/

sad/

you/

teardrop defying the laws of gravity/

or/
is it the laws of gravity that defy the teardrop/so that it never falls into/
place/

I've noticed only/beautiful/things/
fall/

shooting stars/

autumn/

my left *****

Clearly I'm self-aware, copacetic with myself.
Can't help lying, slyly sneaking words in with stealth.
But if I told the truth, I'd find it hard to just continue
living each day revolving around the same issue.
There's a time and place, I'll just let it fall into that.
Slowly bleeding out though, health is ruining my stats.
I wake up every morning like I'm somehow surprised.
The hardest part of doing that's to open my eyes.

I let go of everything that gets too close to me.
It's not really hard when all they want to do is leave.
I can't keep a straight face while my heart beats,
like it's just a joke, or some sick kind of make believe.
I guess my life just likes it to match my humor;
dark, sinister, perverted. That last one's just a rumor.
I ruin lives like addictions to a bad drug,
disconnected mothers that never gave their children a hug,
accidental situations replacing limbs with awful stubs.
The only difference is that I just make it easier to love.
I provide the tools to lose yourself within the moment.
When its gone, I only have one rope, i guess i can loan it.
I need it back though, never know when it could be useful.
Youthful euphemisms hanging from the ceiling, plain beautiful.

Will I ever see the brighter days before my last comes?
Raising my standards after each and every "last one."
My life is like Detroit roads with all its holes and bumps,
dumpster diving bums searching every scrap and crumb.
I can't interpret karma, reasons why it put me here
living life as less of a person than my surrounding peers.
Clouded judgement, but my intuition's much more clear.
I can't find the road, with abundance of potential to steer.

I don’t want your magnanimous love.
I’d rather be alone
then tolerated
because you are
the
bigger
person.

I am not a project
to deal with
on your way
to greater things.
Leave me alone
Move around me
or allow me to move out of your way.

At the end of the day
I won’t be a part
of the problems you overcome
or the pain you push through
as the background
or the set up
for the ******
wherein
look close
only your story
matters.

I am sure you’ll find another problem
perhaps there is one
bigger
greater
and more impressive
than the problem of me.

That’s what you need.
To prove
that you are worthy of the love
you give yourself.

If that’s what you are after
don’t loiter.
There is much to be done
and more world to save
and I’m just one
nobody will notice
when you let me go
and I won’t tell them
and God won’t know.

So shh.
Gently
tiptoe
We can part ways seamlessly
and you can be better
and I can be free.

Flippant polymaths exude the frippery of travail for lapsed inordinate surgical gains in temporal but temporary acclaim that owes its provenance to the gullarge accentuated by the guttural tempests of silent windfalls that wrestle with sharks and snarky cagamosis with pilfered fame without rulers for rules that own the profligacy of a cineaste game

We cannot surpass our talents with ease when the treecheese of inevitable distance between equipoise and insanity is a tantamount inanity of prolixity for the sake of freedom rather than servitude to the slow meandered steps of trudged verbigeration that needs to be exorcised from the seat of authority for the plodding inconvenience of time earned that shakes the listless yearning people who lie and spurn

Demagogues are trifles because they are anoegenetic and care not for the abligurition that consumes the energy of a dismal life lived on fringes rather than reaped with grimaces for binges that continue to absorb the painful pangs of twinges that hedonists are of interest

We cannot exorcise the demons that give stygian weight to exchequers beyond the gamut of money but rather the currency of velocity of thought that owes its weight to weightlessness of spaces between the spacious and the limited tract of isolative territory that many mendicants looking for sustenance travail in insolence and in perjury of their solemn duties for self-serious honesty they lack a vista to see their crimes as more than just a pettifoggery of disputatious wranglers that wrench and then contemn the objects of their moral scruples to contend with nothing but the vacant expanse of a limitless injury for a momentary slip of cultivation and countenance

Frippery is hard to cobble with lapidary wit because succinct grievances are fallow ground for the permanence of atrocity and the temperance of felicity to conform to the desiccated pathways of limpid but livid excoriations of willful ingenuity met with aleatory rambles that sprawl incalescence with words as a dying occupation that is resurrected from the abeyance of its pragmatic utility to distinguish class from crust.

The triadic fatuousness of snarky sharks recruiting the gullarge of paranoiacs to deputized alacrity lead many strident vocations astray as they pilfer the nullibiety of spectral ignorance and defy the gravitas of the primiparas of a swollen technocracy, an outrage that scarecrows with prevenance have adumbrated against with strident accelerations of sublime velocity

So we swim in perilous straits against the demiurge of inclemency in fated rittles for the turpitude of wraiths and engineer every aborning day a new foofaraw of unalloyed atrocity
Now more than never should be deployed to ensure that the castigation of scoundrels and guttersnipes that exert a rip tide to those stranded on the shores of littoral desiccation might find the pristine beachgoing public an amenable treat proffered by exorcised sheepishness in reiterative bleats that quarkswarm only the antinomy of sentient masteries by shoveled civilizations proctor to horological insistence in design

So we designated an abeyance of heydays to create a rippled nostalgia that creeps in the winter storms that singe even glabrous ignorance with the twinges in absentia of the regal crows that circle the sun as the sustenance of the alighted moon as we reach for the heaved Richter teeming with ablution for venial commination of prolix croons that exert a Palo Alto rhyme

Phenomenological fields distal to the cephalocaudal origination of limber and the ironic counterpoint to that strife in excess rather than dearth of the henchmen behind the exchequer showcase that fluid thoughts surpass the limits of the dentistry of cosmetic cosmology simultaneously a scientific boon but a coarse albatross

We are criminals in a world stranded by ****** apostasy because of the sincerity of minstrels meets plodding human ignorance as exemplars rather than the apotheosis of divine excoriation of wastrels and flattybouches who webdoodle their way into the extinction line in some computer file swiped from eccedentesiasts who often in uncouth barbarity forgetfully abide without the temperance of floss

So what are we to make of magisterial wits of wiseacres who pilot tenable objectives like Indiana Jones flexing his comical whip when the gunfire of cacophony inundates our ears with a lisp of cockalorum imposture rich in chewing tobacco and its ungainly gripes and tenacious grip

Should we seek salvation from the treecheese of arboreous terrain amenable to the newfangled windfall of agricultural whims that dare now with caprice but not quixotic disdain to reconfigure the parsimonious levered engagement of melliferous fungible transaction between sabbaticals and chief financiers dubbing the vociferous limn of the primeval fulgurant incandescent ethereal quips?

We strive for palaces issued with dimes, dozens and scores of retinues that retain the patina of sophistry as the gullarge makes the vangermytes cozy in their defensively mechanized citadel buffered against the unheralded malversations of mammon intersecting with primordial chemistry that give the philanderer a guise of philanthropy despite professed gainsay that perjures because hucksters are winsome with fiduciary risk

So we calumniate with lapsed puns and Potter’s Spells as we dredge the indemnity of bustling heydays that extend beyond the bailiwick stated because of the prolonged trace of nostalgia that frazzles our voluntary expeditions with misanthropy as each libertine instinct becomes subject to stop and frisk

How to balk at such a garrulous repartee as proffered by swanky intransigence that shakes it off in a quaky town that hates the Swift refrain that endangers the fatalism of recuperated foresight borrowed from the armamentarium of corrupted killjoys who swim in a dalliance with the itchy myths that drift from powerlessness to voguish debauchery of insouciant internecine fringes frayed by the tomes that decry Stygian drift

Shiftless and rooted in rintinole absolved by plackiques that enchant the voyeurism of repined squalor of industrious frippery deracinated from the aureate complicity of largesse calibrated to mobilize the skittish mercurial yuppies to a dance with divestiture, taxes and an earthen death, we sprint the evergreen mile toward the scrupulous invention of enthusiastic euphemisms arbitrated by the procrustean silt of the leaky faucet of enigmatic timelessness etched by chiselers to beat “Us and Them” and warn the vanguard of the front rank about the thespian rift

Exhaustive rescue squads prepared for the dearth of monetary heft in times of perilous drought denigrate the authors of famine to the indulgent parents of inordinate sabotage of narrative for riskless arbitrage that is the outrage of sciamachies between platonic indifference and the tantrums of the feckless in the dangerous hearth of the cavernous wilderness of limitless imaginations that stagger so far beyond orbit they become satellites to vagrancy and whittled paragons too distant to dissolve in the ethereal chemistry of incalescent uproar sadly flanged by the Dopplers of ephemeral fate

Squandered by the desuetude of a snarky intervention I issue invective at the proctors of deafferented limbs for barbarous swine meeting expediency in demise, bemoaning the placid distaste of rectified cries that issue candles for each acrimony beyond the permutation of the staid inflexible limit of 88’

Bashfully we careen through argosies of curiosity to fossick the stalactites of timeworn intuition and reckon with their converse ironies that drip faucets of mildew that remain hidden unless poked by plucky flashlights to inspect the paragon of erosive filigrees of a bewildering paradox of polarized design that one meets the ceiling at inception and the cousin strives to clamber empty space to know with faint certainty the bulldozed irony of superordinate coexistence

Now we return to the majesty of a spurned wiseacre that evades the snappy parlance of a wrenched friction between the physical and the metaphysical elements that constitute a commensurate reality so supernal that its ostentation creates lifetimes of reiterative growth that spawns crimson red and bloviated blues to find a fulcrum of balance between the malversation on one hand of criminal sinister machinations and on the other hand the execrable self-righteous ignorance of a hidden vehicles of dexterity that are subsumed by a subtlety of legislative graft that owes its forbearance to the sanctimony of perseveration without the laurels of persistence

Now we wed the concepts between the ambidexterity of a monolithic titan who wanes rather than waxes himself because his glabrous head already exposed requires nothing new because the empire that struck back is denuded by the thorny imbroglio of a sunken Rose

Timmynoggies are perfect for haberdasheries of saccharine and glib excellence as measured by the ****** cacophony of unmerited applause that strains the resourcefulness of the silent mastery of magistrates in mellifluous alcoves surrounded by the soundproofed rigors of an execrable dereliction wilt into the imaginations of the few that watch movies with errantry rather than pleasantries of gaudy nonsense enchanted by a striptease of the wanton zeitgeist that some balk at but everyone knows

Time earns the spangled banners of sloganeering because of the fastidious creations of pole folders that maneuver between quips borrowed from antique movies and swindled affectations of yearning of many of all fears inevitable with the malevolent passage of the technocracy from cheers to vehement inveighed jeers

We should fear the watershed because it necessitates the evaporation of winsome ambition and implores the subservience of a guiltless fascination with abominable regress concomitant to the acceleration of money preceding a whipsawed downfall ensured by the funereal spates of requiems to oneironauts who plunged to their deaths on headlong flickering whims past the craggy landscape of lunar concordance and through the abeyance of qualms to flabbergasted self-importance in the eradication of provident fears

Memorials exist encoded in the temporal twinges of agony that straddle the cardiovascular throbs of impermanence that sweat with each simple beat to blather about the repetitious nature of a livid nature scrambled in exodus of the emigration of senseless blather to the subroutines of regimented sleepless paragons of travail in every pedestrian feat accelerated with each passing foot traversed by vigilant and eager feet

Tempests crowd the cluttered hamartithia of dredged incompetence leading to the foreclosure that precedes the simple derelictions that amount to grievous uncertainties that squawk in the plumage of the frippery decay of an autumnal fall from gracile riches landlocked without room to sprawl rigged against every track that is a surefire gleeful keepsake to meet, greet and serenade the claques adorned with the monikers of the Greeks

Trembling beneath the weight of mellifluous sauntering dingy designs that exude the anguish of our provident but incidental remonstration against the plodding indifference of the artistic clerisy we sputter against intransigent annulments of the emotive human engine calibrated with creaky pistons that rumble with furor of abrasive protest in timely haphazard elemental designs for vanguard ears

Tridents shed the fossicked leaves that are divisible by two but not inevitably glue that solders the identities of people congregated around a situation of gleeful sprees rather than wistful regress into a temerity without regret that gets dangled in the purview of the spiteful wings of armies that drawl when they sing vapid songs for vaped bongs but not the soberly cheers because of the deafening din of conformity oblivious of the honorific crescendos that still peak after so many restless years

Confederates line the avenues of bustling caverns of cumulative human disdain so willfully flouted by the wrenched corrosive frictions of vibrant deformation of the cultural narrative that encapsulates the collective bubbles chewed and jettisoned like bandied candy and then defamed without justice because  hurricanes churn up the reclusive emergence of protective vanity chased down as a sunken cost for a siphoned glory of tribal pride despite the strictures of logic

Creeping with insistence is a subaudition of governing gravel that entombs many steadfast lies that embodied people living delusory lives under a paradigm that has been subverted by the feats of science into a morass of irrelevance and the chances are many of those so deluded still breathe the air now more polluted but balk at the memories of the fallen passengers on the convalescent train that accelerates sunblind but respectfully toward a systematic engrossment of swollen intellects whimpering about the tautologic

We finance our prescient rodomontade with rodeos equipped with zany clowns who spurn the tridents of Poseidon because of the iridescent gloss of sheepish and flippant zealots who churn against the wrestling match of televised irony with accentuated eccedentesiastic disdain amended by a tolerable diversion of ennobled gallantry zip-zagging among the many valid quodlibets and missing the mark entirely on purpose to vacate the possible raillery of those who balk at time’s chosen serpentine tracks because of limited pedagogical tracts

So lets solder a forceful brunt against the senseless regalia of modern omphalos and return to the plenipotentiary fields of resourceful human inquiry into the chagrins outmoded by convenience but amplified in vociferation by the prosthetic extension of a grangull humanity outfoxing itself into a zugzwang inevitable in the future with collateral losses because of senseless invidiousness orchestrated by the immiscible dermatology of divisive facts often about race and ineluctable tax

We conclude with the optimism that refineries become gentrified by the superlunary squadrons who bask in beatific beams of anonymity and that the pollution preceding our evolution is just adventitious rather than central to the amelioration of wavy screens ennobling so many upstarts to teach themselves the majesty of lucid dreams and to capitalize on ludic ideals divorced from the urchins of radical idealisms that ironically poach rarefied air with smug pollution of narrative scares

Without trepidation we can muster the largesse of civility to create a progeny that has a recursive progeny of heirs that defiantly imagine a world bereft of specters of the soporific imagination enforced by the lapidation of insight from termagants who stride with ursine acrimony naked bare and envision a global meliorism that is careful, picaresque, pragmatic and filled with meritocratic care

With those ornaments of an aureate measure in mind


We leap beyond the enumerated infinity in time's proper design

Gusto affairs spiraled to marooned stairs!!

Amphibious angel,
Where art thou own wings?
Apparent your sanctioning is,
Appointee of marital status!!!

Anthropologist of creations new madness,
Armful arousist!!
Arrogant aspirant!!!!

We are all baggage carriers of used goods,
Bestowed to thy own selves thou ******* of crud!!!!!

Very few bonuses this time around,
For the metropolis hath gone broke and choked!!!

For oil runneth this deliveranth!!!

Bind thy own,
You biggot of brigaded quarters!!!
None to coincide with ,
No cognac love to filleth me with cocoa nestled swifts!!!

Engrossment of shufflers, greasers to seventies sneakers,
Esteemed of high retailer goods!!!

Distinction between euphemisms blame!!!
Highed tops to spindle games,

Atrocious calibrations!!!!

Such tiredness flees the crime felt page,
Who's enraged?

Refute novelties of javahouse breaks,
Wherein assemblers are all members of cafe corner states!!!!

Paxilheads to axlehead drinkers,

Some material like,
Some medicinal thinkers!!!

How much shalt one taketh before his psyche leaves reclusiveness all behind the robust tower!!!!

You want me to tell you what happened,
don't you?
You want me to bare it all,
every sordid detail.*
..... And so she sat there at the dining room table,
even now 20 plus years later, I still feel sorry for her.
How hard it must have been for her to say,
"I think we have become too familiar with one another,
and I need to find myself".
What the **** did that mean?
She has never said anything like that in the 10 years we'd been married.
What the ****?
I didn't know then, but those were euphemisms a friend had told her to say.
She wasn’t really all that good at communicating you see.
She took a bight of souffle and kept blankly staring at the refurbished china hutch,
the one she picked out at the flea market and said we would refinish it together.
We... never did.
I said, with a new found fear in my voice, "So this is it?".
I hadn’t yet felt the sting of actually getting a divorce.
And with a heart stopping seriousness in here eyes she said,
"I think it is."
Blood rushed to my head, like a car running a stop sign in front of me,
I crashed.
On my one shoulder was a devil that wanted to yell and scream and call her names.
On the other was the Angel of Karma, telling me that this is one of those moments in life
that you are either going to be proud of,
or regret.
So quietly I said,
"how can I help you find yourself ?".  
All the while frantically thinking.....
Think, think, think of something to say that will keep her from leaving.

love between us is quietly there,
in subtext and allusions.
*** is hidden by euphemisms
and ambiguity.
that is all we'll ever have:
unspoken chemistry.

glances, accidental touches,
late night conversations.
passion sparkles slightly
in the darkness, in goodbyes and good mornings,
in the way my name sounds
from your lips, the unexpressed desires.

invisible to the inexperienced eye, some might argue
it's not there.

but to those familiar with it --
the scholars, the romantics --
it is inevitable, invariable.

we are quiet desolation. we are close, forever closer.
most of all without touching;
most of all between breaths
and heartbeats,
in thoughts of each other's arms,
and in separate beds.

It used to be fun, loving on the sly.
An exciting time, but I don’t know why.
What was so thrilling about it all then?
Nothing to be proud of. Not very zen.
Sneaking and giggling like a fool
Only proves to me now I was a tool.
But for those of me raised in that time
Being gay and ***** was a big crime.

Even now, many say they don’t mind it
But if I have to be gay, I must be quiet.
Don’t talk about my time with a guy.
If I have to do that, do it on the sly.
They invent unclever euphemisms
And further deepen the ****** schism
That says we are good and you’re not
At least according to the family I’ve got.

They’ll just wink and dig with an elbow
And that’s they way they want it to go.
Of course, even better, just don’t say
That you I am one of those, you know, gay?
We’ll all know stuff, we don’t want to know.
We won’t discuss your twisted shame, oh no.
We'll just gossip with each other about it
And none of us in any way will ever doubt it.

After all, the bible I didn’t read condemns it
So, even though more of society permits it
It really isn’t right, they condemn me to hell.
Oh, I have heard this lame tale that they tell.
Of course, I read that book and they’re wrong.
They changed the story as time went along.
But they’d know all that if they took a look
And actually read their religion’s book.

So, decades ago, I changed my thoughts
And now use on them what they have taught.
I nudge and wink and agree not to discuss
The crap they do and their errors about us.
I don’t ask them with who they are cheating
Or other Christian teaching they are defeating
By paying attention to the mote in my eye
By my love for a perfectly respectable guy.

Undetectable by the naked eye,
you slip threatening euphemisms
[Bruce Lee yelps and noise]
into the softer parts of my body.

Sleepless unlike god-fearing mortals
drink wine fermented of kitchen tears,
fermented in Dixie cups
held closed by the pressure;
image of a social butterfly
with wings torn off by
childish tyrants.

Sneak into my tonsils
and tear out every crown
on your way to my lips.
Pillage and loot and riot,
bleed from the mouth.
Held together by wire.
Sewn shut with iron.

Eyes as two independent souls,
each a decoy of the other,
hidden, even to themselves.

⚠️Trigger Warning: The following poem contains subject matter pertaining to self-harm, suicide, and involuntary psychiatric hospitalization⚠️

Over the duration of high school,
there is one fear that eclipses
the daily rumination of my thoughts.

Behind sepulchred eyelids,
burn the imaginings

of wasp-needled syringes

straitjackets curling around bodies
with noose-like exactness

a padded room
absorbing brain-curdling screams
into its pink insulation.

At the time,
I was petrified that my newly-discovered
flirtation with self-harm
would land me a permanent stay in an asylum.

The rational part of me knew
that they don't call them
asylums anymore.

The rational part of me knew
there would be no syringes
or straitjackets
or pink, padded rooms.

It was the principle

If it was decided that I was
"an immediate risk to myself"--
a decision that would
incorporate the voices
of the people who barely knew me
but deny me my own voice--
I would be admitted
to a psychiatric ward,
and it would be against my will.

It wouldn't matter
if it was at the Children's Hospital or not--
It wouldn't matter if the walls
were coated with those
sickeningly bright colours
or if there was an Xbox
in the common area.

You can dress up a prison cell
as vibrant as you'd like.
But, by principle,
it's still a prison cell.

When they strip you
of your clothes,
and force you into
their bleak hospital gowns,
they also strip you
of your independence.

(You aren't even allowed
to wear your school cardigan,
the one whose soft, green fabric
you nestle against your fingertips
when you need comforting.

What makes you think
you can leave when you want to?)

See,
doc keeps ya locked up
until he's snuffed the
crazy outta you.

They don't like using
the word
crazy
anymore, either.

So,
like the prison cell,
they play dress up
with your "crazy",
draping it in euphemisms like

unstable.

erratic.

incapacitated.

suicidal--

Once this word is used to label you,
you are never quite able to
abandon its connotation of
madness--
a reputation of inferiority.

And everyone believes
that they are only doing what's best for you,
that hospitalization is the only thing
that will save you from yourself,
when, in fact, it's the ultimatums
and the countless visits to the ER
and the way you are treated--
like a poor ***** lying in wait
to be put down--
that destroys you.

The memories still
bleed fresh most nights.

I seethe at
the mistreatment and
the betrayal and
the destruction
like an army of bees
whose hive has been kicked in,
a snow-globe convulsing
between careless hands.

I was kinder
before they stole away
the last moon-slivers of hope
I held between heart and ribs,
between lips and flower petals.

The nectar has been
exorcised from my soul,
leaving only infestation behind.


(and there is no escaping this swarm)

You may say that she has gone to meet her maker
now that she is with the undertaker.
Or possibly it’s passed, passed on, or passed away
that you prefer to mark the day
on which finality did overtake her.

It’s fine to think she rests in peace
now that she’s pronounced deceased,
departed, gone, or finally succumbed
these metaphors have me benumbed
as a substitution for surceased.

She lost the battle, lost her life,
freed from further agonizing strife,
gone to heaven, breathed her last
and now has found eternal rest,
that mother, daughter, friend and wife.

She has gone to meet her Lord
from further pain she has been spared
I hate to break this sad news to you
sorry if it does confuse you,
but it simply must be said.  She is dead.

I remember when my interest in you
Floated around in me.
Somewhere between my heart and my head
Never quite settling down.

I remember observing conversations wherein
You and another were one.
Something inside of me began to ring softly
Never quite letting go.

I remember my previous self, the one who was too
Scared to even say hello.
Somehow I found my voice and it
Never quite gave out.

I remember the minutes, the hours, the days,
The weeks, those few months.
Someone ought to have warned me that it's
Never quite perfect.

I remember it all, and it's time for me to explain
What it really feels like.
Sometimes you need to say more
This is the story of how I remember it.

We began talking. Initially there were jokes aplenty.
More the 'We're not friends so let's keep our distance' sort of thing
Which I expected, or at least I saw no reason why it would be any different.

Friendly banter, subtle euphemisms, the typical winding up charade
(It was typically me who was wound up, it was so easily done!)
I cannot speak for the other side but I would laugh, and I would smile.

Somehow we got to talking close to almost every day, and I was happy
As I genuinely felt as though I was building a friendship with someone worthwhile.
Not your empty, exchanging of generic phrases, out of necessity friendship.

I could list the things we'd talk about but it only really matters to me.
Besides, I don't think I could possibly fit it all in to a space that anybody
Would dare read. I think it would suffice if I were to say the following:

We talked about all sorts of things. Some things trivial, others anything but.
I would eventually open up, discuss hopes, wishes, dreams, fears, troubles.
I never once felt judged or inadequate. We simply became close.

All the while I still found myself yearning for something more, though I was
Never certain what the reason for this was, nor did I understand it well enough
To realise that it had been in-front of me for what may as well have been forever.

I would sit by the sidelines and watch as they were with another, though
It was odd. I wasn't raging with jealousy inside as you would expect. Instead
I was glad. Someone I cared for deeply seemed to have someone.

I would never pry, as I never do with anyone that I have been friends with.
It saddened me a little to hear of what happened, though again I was glad.
I felt a little cruel but I think I was glad as I felt they deserved better.

Now for the moment when I must insert some rambling, rather than some
Meaningful line of words. This signifies the confusion, the fun, the secrecy,
The excitement, the anticipation, the release, the feeling of letting go.

I value those close to me higher now than I have ever done, especially him.
I feel it may seem I give the wrong impression, I believe we are close friends.
It's difficult, I admit, to keep myself from exposing what I feel lies underneath.

I know something, though, and that is what keeps me here. It is quite peculiar.
If you were to ask me what I would want in regards to them my answer would simply be:
I hope that they find happiness and receive the love and the life they both wish for and deserve.

Is that what friendship is about, is that what it means to love someone dearly?
I know the score, yet I feel the same way regardless. It changes little.
To know them is a pleasure and I simply wish for it continue for as long as I live.

That is all.