this season
we'll journey to our youth,
and lie waste to untold truths
that hide beneath the surface
this season
we'll grow to untold bounds
life starts from underground
and bursts into a melancholic circus


this is a dream
you are a memory

Enough already!
We need less poems
At this time
And more prayers,
Or are they
The same thing?

A novel situation, for a story to live for or in
ever,
forever and inever are aspects of ever never
actually
thought through.

Ever being as ever was, now,
all together

This is where it gets crazy…

cut to the chase, and nobody is chasing…

Do you truly believe there is a lie so big that
no one can ever unbelieve it
alone?

Do ya, hunh, do ya? Wanna bet?
Could get hairy,
could get… you know
*****, humus- dirt us,
we a we here. All the outs been let in free,
we got shelter
from our storm.

Yeh. L'il Abner, cloud, no, "Big Chief Rain-in-the-face"
wasn't that funny,

back when they had the Shakespeare Riots, first
but not last,
time Feds fired on citizens pledged to allegiance,
in states of
professionally tested rebellion,
to keep the meek assured their inheritance is safe,

until the end,
when nobody is sure what to expect.
So, we lower your interest rate on entertainment.
Attention spans as short as fifteen seconds, with
seven seconds eye on target verified,
by snapsnapsnap monoclapping app-lause trigger…

those seven seconds are treasure,
lemme tell y'gotta listen,
we ain't got long,

AI AI AI its all artistic intuition absolutely insane,

in that good Steve Jobs insane way,
insanely great, the feeling
you get when you stand in the tenth floor comode
and flush it, swoosh, swirl caresses
flow between
your rusting toes,
in your mind, only in your mind, your industrial
disneyfied mind, crossed with an imagined
Turing machine, with a Von Neuman perpetuating
glandular mod on the cannabinoid system,

plus acid. Seedtime, harvest or
seed
time
harvest round and round for a few loops,
leaning into the plane
of existence,

to be with you, for your reading pleasure,
we offer fully flexible

futures, one day at a time,
no Westworld AI wu wu - we way cooler than allathat

Vitamin D, 2-d, thathathat is you to me, you are
my sunshine,
lemme see y'shine.

—

neglect and respect do not rhyme,

{will grant you one,
will give you none.

will demand one,
will send you some.

you poets,
always thinking
you can get away
with murdering
the English language.

***** of assonance,
you do not fool me,
I’ve killed a thousand
men’s “original”rhymes,
while you’ve been
fast sleeping,
they’ve been
fast seeping.

I’ll give you no quarter,
won’t spare a lousy dime,
my spare change,
is poet-unaffordable,
cheap suited hucksters.

work and ****
do rhyme.  
you can be one,
if you do not
put in some.

work by day,
slave by night.

awake to the sun’s
inquiry, what have
you done for me
lately?

IF

all you have to show is this
scribbilus miscellaneous,
tear up your lice-ence,
poetic and DMV, you
ain’t going nowhere.

was branded by hot iron,
early on,
brandy channing.

your best nightmare,
guidance counselor,
extraordinaire,
great big fairie,
poseur, exposer,
m u r d e r e r
of awful poetry}

WHAT,  
what do you stand for?

he called me *****


when I left the room,
he called me *****,
My tomes of Shakespeare,
witnesses,
fellow poets all, my wall decor.

well familiar with fools,
reported the occurrence
upon my return.

confronted, it,
he did not deny,
for he understood
pointless
at that point,
exceedingly well.

was not angered, simply asking,
since he fancied himself a poet, did
he know any rhymes for that word?

in the interest
of poetic brevity,
answered for him.

*****.
witch.
twitch.

gave him reason to use
those words
sequentially.

after that, he addressed me
as mistress, or *******,
with respect, an attitude
that was previously
menu unavailable.

what then shall we call you?

the Bard,
his Band of Brothers, and I
jointly confabed.

undignified is slave,
Shakespeare opined,
human dignity needs
respecting.

my walled observer,
co-conspirator of
all that transpired,
drew upon his
own source material,
suggested,
knave.

yes, quite apropos,
my considered reply,
a fool always, and still,
after all, was he not
himself not a
son of a *****


as much as I,
Brandy Channing, is, was, daughter, proud, child
of one great and wonderful Queen
*****.

yes, neither is white.

these two no-colors are

all I know. my palette

complete.

you say

flesh?

whataboutit?

flesh is just space between black and white


colorless for those with open minds.

open hearts.

open minds.

opened eyes.

the truly free,

the blind.

Dog dog dog dog dog.
Dog dog dog dog dog dog dog.
Dog dog dog dog dog.