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 Oct 2022
ConnectHook
Fat-*** Ignorance parks her brand new SUV next to Sociopathy, who barely raises a hooded reptilian eyelid as he sells seven Fentanyl tablets to Diversity under a narcotic cloud of monotonous insistent bass beats. Equity is quarreling with Under-representation over Authenticity in fake Wokeness, bellowing and flexing tattooed muscles as the Walmart security staff jiggle their immense wheezing obesity to the scene of the escalating drama. Onlookers are quickly gathering up all the Ukrainian color posters from the parking-posts as they disperse, grabbing as many free samples of THC-infused Delta-8 gummies as they can from the abandoned sales-promotion table on their way out. Uncouth plebeian tremors are undulating over the entire trash-strewn parking lot as filthy seagulls take wing, squawking.

Shut UP **** ain't LIKE THAT! shouts Urban Degeneration at her baby-daddy who spits cannabis-cola all over her threaded beaded extensions. He drops their child, Criminalisha, still strapped into her carrier, onto the pavement and lunges at Urban D.

I'ma hafta ******* UP now, *****, murmurs Poochie tha Kontrolla (aforementioned baby-daddy) and proceeds to tie her hair extensions to the handle of her SUV. He bites her hand until she drops the keys, which he grabs and then he jumps into the driver's seat. The engine roars.

Meanwhile, in the gathered crowd of onlookers,  Miss Cultural-appropriation berates an old man for wearing a rice-paddy shade hat on a cloudy day when he only .05 percent Asiatic. The Walmart security staff have mistakenly sat upon and handcuffed one of their own who screams for his meds and therapy canine. As police sirens are heard approaching, America Corpulenta rolls her fat bloodshot eyes and launches her immense rolls of adipose tissue into orbit towards the international space-station.
My interstellar-*** rocket gone KICK you punk-*** lil' space station you racist-*** bigot, she yells  to no one in particular . . .

And America, although no one there realized it, was indeed GREAT.
Itz a PROSE poem, y'all
 Oct 2022
Zeena Miedema
Last night I dreamed I was somebody else.
Me inside another body.
A teen with another kind of life.
And I’m 30 actually.
This girl was still at school.
Had arranged to meet up with a friend that night.
Had a lot of fake black leg tattoos who would come off from a couple of washes.
I’m just curious about this seeming so normal, not remembering my actual life.
Only somewhere hidden in the back.
I knew myself.
But not everything from this life.
My actual one right now.
Is it worth it to go through all of this pain if I don’t remember?
Why am I learning, I know I’m growing but in my dreams I’m back to the base.
The developments are less present.
They do have an influence I suppose but the core is just plain me inside.
Without knowing, remembering everything.
Will I remember what I learned?
I must keep the growth, can I exist with it?
For the the collective.
Still being me.
15-10-22
 Sep 2022
David P Carroll
Lord Jesus Christ
I pray for the sick and suffering
Today and I'll light a candle
For every alcoholic tonight
And may the Lord fill there heart's up
With your peace and love in life
And give them strength
To carry on and hold them
In your heart keeping them
Safe and warm and shelter
Them from horrible storm
And I trust in you to heal
All the Alcoholics tonight
Amen Lord Jesus Christ.
Help AA
Thank you so much David,
That's much appreciated.

https://www.alcoholics-anonymous.org.uk/Home
Time
A crooked line
Connecting then and now
Never quite achieving the conjunction
That would build a bridge
To somewhere over there
And make a path to
What could be a better sometime
      ljm
Don't ask me.....I just write it all down.
 Sep 2022
Sarita Aditya Verma


Brittle and frail
Perception to perceptions
There lies perfection
It doesn’t lie
Stands perfect and tall
Much tug, Leads to fall
Maintains a standard
Not standard for all
 Sep 2022
Carlo C Gomez
"Memory is more indelible than ink."
—Anita Loos

~
Europe, after the rain,
the sun lending warmth and comfort.
fringes come into focus.
shadow journal,
fiscal dreams,
becoming ****** lines on a page;
procession bells
for young brides,
veiled in lace.
a touch from her
outstretched hands,
this honeymoon phase
running up the thigh,
the holding quite still until
she smiles for pendulum.
at first light, breakfast in bed,
granting pastel wishes on
boxing night,
then a letting go of the kite string.

new fingers in the medicine bottle,
tiny geometries
inside a house of reciprocal numbers.
paradise in mnemonic children:
cartwheels and handstands,
coloring books of
neglected spaces,
future ruins.
one hundred violins
play to isles of ignorance,
stray embers settle
along the solemn Chemin De Fer (railway).
a catalogue of afternoons
on the bike path
thru propeller seeds and dragonflies.

arriving in the haloed flesh:
skin dive,
the place of couloir descent;
**** beach,
the place of odd glances;
gun chamber,
the room of secondary light;
all horizon variations.
an algebra of darkness,
this dense Roman twilight,
their exiles unreflected
in blind lanterns.
our brightness will become
refracting silhouettes,
a broken yolk in the incendiary sky.

~
 Aug 2022
South by Southwest
The wind blows across the bay
You say it's time to let it go
I turn to face the force
You're right , inside I know

I bend to the sand
let the grains run through my life
I stand straight , face my fate
Embrace the strife

Like a book overdue
A page ripped out
A heart mutilated
A charge turned to rout

The wind has increased
The clouds roll in
And I know what happens
to houses
Built on sand
 Aug 2022
SUDHANSHU KUMAR
You called me, your “Moon,”
and enjoyed every bit of moonlight...
But the moment you saw the “Sunshine,”
you ran behind it while the “Moon” continued to wait,
even after losing its identity..!
It's the sunlight that overshined the moon, but the moon never lost its presence!
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