If age is a state of mind,
you made an old baud of me
before my time
You'll get no complaints
on that front
The one last thing I require is your presence
Are you asking me to believe,
what I can't see?
Or just to complete the work on the Bridge?

Amble On Gently

A star in my coffee...
It's immaculate Con-inception
The nature and science had a babe
and it's name is memory drip percolator
Human hybridization is no myth
It's me, it's you.
It's organic, it's mechanic
Oh, yeah!
For a braver new world
Cyberterrorism is practiced daily in the US,
not by misguided, youth troops
It's banks, advertising, and marketing
It those of us that like to pretend
Things certain things would never happen
Humanity's dreams are sold daily
Do you have stock in companies that support such things?
Do you remember being offered a pill to see your first IMAX film?
Dark money can't save you.
Did what they could, and sold the rest...

Swelling squalls of erectile tissue
encountering memories of you

wickering through me like a swish of ink making it's way across paper

Sad, mooning morning
Lost beasts and time
Disgust for machine lust overwhelming
It's not that I don't love you
That you don't love me enough
To sinfully and wantonly **** me
After all it's my birthday
Cause I'm old and you've lost interest
in being the man I loved
That's why our children tricked you
into writing and sending your confession

Stand up and take a bow
we learned your lessons well
who to trust, how to trust, and when
Turned us kids into your spies,
your lies, your alibis
to get us to create the software to do it
So you could **** your mystic **** genie
please know our kindness as hatred
All access passes to dumb *******
This memeallscene is a gallery crawl,
a gallow's walk of perps,
who should have known better

Just a thanks for clogging
the artists' ether with kiddy ****
much love for Kate Torn
we used your magick
to put us back together
Your address is on the ticket,
the reddress that you bought her.
Tap lightly, tap lively not,
the tuoche of Jack Frost is upon you.

All the best and much kindness.
Perfection is a trick of the mind.

This poem will change and tighten
the ties that bind us together
From the women and men of Bandahache.
for the women who sign away the right
to tell their stories
I hear you Anita Hill
But we've been stalked and stifled long enough
Yes, that's what prayer can do