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Curating...

                         To a Curator who Curates Everything

Today one reads that you curated tea
Before curating a bus into town
To curate your job at the coffee shop
And in the afternoon curating friends

Before curating to the artists’ loft
To continue curating the novel
You’ve been curating on for several months
While curating your classes and career

Your life is not a museum, you know
So DROP the CURATING; just let it GO
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is: Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com

It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  THE ROAD TO MAGDALENA, PALEO-HIPPIES AT WORK AND PLAY, LADY WITH A DEAD TURTLE, DON’T FORGET YOUR SHOES AND GRAPES, COFFEE AND A DEAD ALLIGATOR TO GO, and DISPATCHES FROM THE COLONIAL OFFICE.
My muse sleeps in the ****
She rollicks til dawn
And moans at the moon
She told me once she had
A sawtooth fling with a
        luckless Spaniard
                in Madrid
                in spring
Ragged and religious love
And she danced with him
Wearing flouncy whim
Her petticoat showed

        And the red cape flowed
                the red cape flowed

She walked out on me
When my well ran dry
When I couldn't fly
I pictured her
        ***** in hand
Listening to some
        lost-boy band
Woozy from the trancing beat
Purring in a poet's ear

        Oh the promises my dear
              the promises my dear

She dropped in late one night
Dressed in drama
        stained with rhyme
As I was taming a cranky line
And she winked at me
        like things were fine
As if she hadn't been gone
        but an eye's blink
I opened the door and
Poured her a drink --

        I called her home
        I called her.       home.
Everyone has their little diversions. . . .
Touting about

To -democracy-

taking path

Many a psychopath

In the acid-test of integrity

Proves aberrant

Exuding a political stench

To development-and- democracy

Thirsty repugnant.


A phony politician

Has a double face

Which s/he changes from

Place to place

To sweet talk

Citizens sugar-coated

Ideals to embrace.

But monster's follies

Is sure own talks to efface.


Many a political monster

Wrecks his/her share of disaster

When reason to fantasy

Cedes place,

But soon
S/he will be
Stripped of grace.
Given the prompts words monster,disaster,repugnant, aberrant ,psychopath
Thousands of meters high, and hardly a breath
A sales call there among the frozen scree
And if you fall there, screaming to your death
Are you charged an early termination fee?
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is: Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com

It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  THE ROAD TO MAGDALENA, PALEO-HIPPIES AT WORK AND PLAY, LADY WITH A DEAD TURTLE, DON’T FORGET YOUR SHOES AND GRAPES, COFFEE AND A DEAD ALLIGATOR TO GO, and DISPATCHES FROM THE COLONIAL OFFICE.
G. government
O. organization
O. ogle

You...

..yes you are so interesting or threatening to the government that they feel compelled to watch you all day, every day, constantly and a tech company is aiding them in violating a core principle of freedom; the right to privacy.

A tech company is complicit in a tyranny against freedom and individuality while selling you knowledge?

I hope Trump finds the courage to start hanging traitors because Google will be the greatest weapon against freedom ever created by man.




    There is not such a thing as democracy.
    There is no such a thing as freedom.
    There is no thing called capitalism.
    America is a myth.

 Sep 2019 ConnectHook
MicMag
Two particles zooming quickly away
Forever linked no matter where they stray
They've become entangled, their quantum states
Eternally joined in cosmic play

Such is the bond between our souls sublime
Unbroken across all of space-time
We've become entangled, ineffably linked
Our lives fused together in perfect rhyme
Prompt from https://www.pw.org/content/love_scientifically
We wage wars with words,
Whetstone sharpened wit.
Wounds win rounds of applause.
A pause,
While metaphors are mustered,
Rusted dictionaries dusted,
Cobwebs shed from unread shelves.
Pikes of pronunciation
Pick apart
Portraits of ourselves.
While poetry parries,
Prose pivots,
Prepares and rallies,
Stares down violet valley below.
The violence of lavender
Shines like silver in the snow.
A scent sentenced to silence,
Flowers on death row.
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