Morse Code
or no code at all

life is noise

and no one tells you
what and what not to listen to

right now the sun's rays
are piercing

the gray fluff of a former
Nimbus cloud

the lockers rife with clowns and the frittering of time as the ***** boys got ready to work their ***** minds down at the ***** factory and boast about ***** things too often degrading and unkind.

I tried to stay out of it
until one officious co-worker
had the gall to ask,
“what’s your preference in women?”

whereby, my response was,

“I see my women like flavors;
white women are too bland,
black women are too flavorful and
Indian women are a bit over-seasoned.
you need the right amount of spice.
Latina women got it but they cheat
so, I’d have to go with Asian women.
they’re perfection is unmatched.”

laughter emerged and rumbled
down the grey factory walls
where the metal tin roof had rattled,
the ***** air pervaded with rust and tears
and a mouthful of peanuts were spat onto a grimy floor

they laughed and kept on laughing
until their bellies burst

never have they heard such
a response like that before

and I just went back to work,
treading in the depths of my own conviction,
not really seeing why I wasn’t
being taken so
seriously.

yes, oddball me, when the subset  sunset worshippers clutch their ooh and ahh pearls, moaning nothing compares to the beauty richness of, the serenity vision of a slipping sun
putting us to bed with a restful aura

***** that

me pre fer

a sunrise powering its way to *******, asserting its power of life and death over this earthly satellite, one of its obedient servants, reminding the flowes to open bloom, the grains of the field to ripen, the animals to re~warm from the cool night, emergence of humans from their protective prophylactic shelters, and commencing to observe their surroundings with an admixture of
silenced glee, and fresh resolution and a quick uttered prayer of thanksgiving for having so much precious that we possess in so far as we were born naked, and be burrowed same, but in between that, we own
temporal rights to love, appreciate
and to
being a human story
of
    
       *glory unique

Your importance has waned
Still important but not like it used to be
Sad to say just don't recognize you at all
Want every possible magic to surround you
My life is not defined by streaming services and people who refuse to seek help because they don't recognize the need
They might not know
Not a friend's job to tell anybody but be a support system if needed and called upon to do so
Like it is

but not consecrated, nothing holy. 'bout me, excluding this bodies holies, by which I blatant blather re
my hole-ies,
the sane same places thru we ******,
intake
expiate
initiate
the most
intimate
intense
purely
human activities
breathing
excretion
speak
see
hear
make love
completely
hell
maybe  the
places
we get


consecrated

**** ain't that iron ironic

or is this just another con
centric to human existence