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The word Gesundheit was first used in English in 1914. It became popular in the United States due to the many German immigrants who moved there. Many Americans may not be aware that Gesundheit is a German word, or even what it means.

Contrary ro popular belief, I experience sneezing fits
every now and again (like right nah... nah... mah now,
but cannot attribute sternutation linkedin to any known allergens).

An infinitesimal slight speck tickled nostril follicle – activated
via an itty bitty, nitty gritty dirt band noah bigger than a mole
luck yule set in motion a chain reaction, whence mine sensitive
proboscis honker (a wheeze hilly little bridged fine tuned pug
nose aroma sensor), got unexpectedly in gauged (in holy matt
trim mo’ knee) to achew, and eschew pledging troth (in favor
of hanky-panky) found this chap feeling phlegmatic despite
an endless strings of faux allergic emanations, which upon
subsiding left me throat rather raspy and voice some octaves
deeper akin to a coterie of celebrated jumping frogs from
Calaveras County, California took residence and took leave
sans stranglehold upon math rote upon awakening from a
hard day’s journey into night across the outer limits of thine
twilight zone resurrected during slumber, yet upon awake
kin ning felt much refreshed and hungry enough to eat a horse
– nee – make that forced ***** – gulped down within a hoof
n hour and now recount how back in the day when zooming
thru the Lilies of the Valley (whooshing mass elf tubby an aero
plane) frequent bouts with uber twittering snapchatting sinus
attacks besieged crinkled, doppelganger expeller for germs
hunting with his clean X instantaneously for nasal passages
to enter surreptitiously the fecund effluvia dripping, oozing,
and  seeping clear liquid as wintry cold air looses droplets
from out a near frozen nose, which bloke knows not why
frigid blast stimulates a gallimaufry of sniffling to spurt into
a volume of one after another gesundheit snorting trumpeting
unwittingly confusing Canadian geese, who misconstrue the
honking from midway centered ****** *****, which angry
birds in tandem with flock of Seagulls quite perturbed to
espy one curmudgeon chap clapping hands over (what feels
like a smashed face) in an effort to stifle subsequent gummy
emissions, which residue expectorated with heaven ***.
This thick mucous essentially the defense mechanism of
a healthy body electric to restore biz zee nose as usual,
which for this mild mannered liberal leitmotif from the
chronicle of one matted nattering nabob of nativity attests
congested mob functioning like a well lubricated machine,
et for the life of me, nary a handy dandy blues clues evident
as per, how the human entity empowered to steamroll over
any reasonably annoying bugaboo. Ah, now if only a similar
innate defense mechanism arose within the mental health,
that would be a supreme testament to thine atheistic exist
ants of miracles minus the attendant pharmacopeia of this,
that or some other drug to aright skewered psyche (of this
contemplative, emotive and intuitive literate outlier),
whose fifty plus eight shades of gray matter went awry
and skewed toward tipping point (to cope with ordinary
cares and concerns of an uncertain whirled wide web)
found the bulk of his life riddled with a joe king, gun
slinging tub back ha chew win, bard **** wordsmith,
who doth newt like to utter any crossword.
for the umpteenth time
during spate to sit scrawny buttucks
on porcelain throne id est
videre licet toilet bowl...
with toxic water brew threatening
to overflow onto the floor,
and hence found yours truly (me)
immersing himself in the holistic experience
for the pure love of bucket flushing
since applying plunger to no avail

found me able, eager, ready and willing
to whoosh upon a star to enlist
the entrepreneurial daring doo doo  
of eldest offspring to design a corkerasp,
and found (me) zee papa frankly
zapped, pooped, fatigued, et cetera out,
thus daring poster boy afflicted
by recurrent bouts of constipation
to share embarrassing communiqué I post,
a reasonably rhyming poetic shout out

to air flatulent grievances
concerning outsize bowel movement
hoping (fat/slim shady chance)
Mike Rowe happens tubby about,
though shadow of a doubt,
he will avail himself
**** eyes zing thee
nightly dump for yesterday
September 2nd, 2024 - whereby
plying plunger in vain, cuz suction

barely helped obstruction give way,
I nearly lost me life and limb oy vey
oh my dog, the same asinine outcome
which spurred poet to get underway
matter of fact, a replay
of excretion almost
occurred earlier today,
and thus an attempt to describe
a tragicomic scenario
regarding bowel movement

the size of subway tram,
an urgent message to maintenance person,
yours truly must relay
overflowing ***** nearly
found yours truly quay
king, yet impossible mission
arises to portray
with unsightly turgid prose
and cons of situation,
the juvenile elements of harried style

swiftly tailored, I hate to overplay
odoriferous subject matter
nsync with constipation
since laxative delineates,
expedites, facilitates,... née
posits heavy load emanating out ******
quite amazing what
smelly waste exits out me
necessitating able linkedin line
O Captain! My Captain!

I signal emergency mayday
posterior end, a dime size orifice,
which malfunctioning sphincter muscles
one moost never be lackaday sic cull
though kids and adults
laughed back in the day,
if and/or when Danny Kaye
tactfully poked fun including that girl
at such critical ****** phenomenon
equally important as a jackstay
to keep afloat body electric

accursed with ****** ammunition
auxiliary accouterments interplay
analogously precise as
Swiss made timepiece
said system responsible
to expel ****** toxins
upon which sitting on porcelain throne
one can softly utter hooray
thankful to experience relative pleasure
until one becomes feeble minded,

whereat sixty plus shades of gray
matter allows, enables, and
provides enjoyably foray
into the bathroom, which entranceway
hoop fully not barred nor off limits
cuz that primitive
urge one best not delay
lest one requires lower
gastrointestinal intervention
especially if blocked up

***** matter which turns to clay
unless of course one doth
cause damage and betray
respect toward well
oiled human machine
exercising and eating healthy
avoiding backside skeleton musculature issues,
yes... I reckon during twilight years
control over bowels doth slip away.

The Essence Of A Corkerasp.

(which fictitious object contrived
by my then twenty plus year old
third year college student,
(who will turn twenty eight
on December twenty second),,
but SHE would never admit
to birthing such an offal bit of drek.

The essential name arose
from preschool, predicated,
precocious person, and the words....?

Whenever constipation a pain in the ***
just maneuver this lightweight
metal contrivance made of brass
no matter if anybody
considers this action crass
apply corkscrew motion
up the alimentary canal
to remove human waste,
which most likely
will be thick like petrified paste

stuck deep inside
bowels of sphincter muscles
and solidly encased
causing severe cramps
within lower gastrointestinal tract
inducing one to wince nonstop
from being ***** matter packed
and no amount of primal groaning
doth loose this hard fact,
nor does imagery of freed ****

ease formidable **** plight,
no laughing matter
despite how absurd
squeezing does nothing
even applying all inner might,
thus necessary to incorporate
un-natural intervention to un-clog
****** blockage + uncomfortable bloating
swelling **** the size of a hog
disabling bare derriere

ease to stand let alone jog,
yet tis essential
per extricating what feels
like one swallowed a log,
which could presage demise
of sufferer, whereby epitaph
twill induce impossible
eulogy spoken language
where tongues wag in Prague
every ounce of effort required to bend

over gingerly affixing
plunger end of device
to business of rear end
best accompanied in tandem
with close companion or friend
this ***** deed done
dirt-cheap trick will ideally rend
rock solid excrement to roll and crash
(on par traversing highway
to hell) soundcloud, I

without fail regularly out the ***** send
upon bathroom floor
possibly inducing tsunami
seismic waves less or more,
whereby toilet bowl water will pour
over the sides akin
to white caps near sea shore
without doubt making
gluteus maximums extremely sore.
As a student in Missus Grace Wells third grade 1967 class...
at Henry Kline Boyer School
a fairly prominent structure,
whose personage exemplifies
a storied history recounted below.

Henry K. Boyer

Early Life

Henry Kline Boyer was born on February 19, 1850, in Evansburg, Montgomery County, Pennsylvania. The youngest of two children to blacksmith Ephraim Boyer and his wife Rebecca Kline, Henry was raised mainly in Montgomery County, with his father at one point even being the official town blacksmith of Evansburg. He attended formal schooling in Montgomery County from a young age, with an aptitude for math and a love for English and history. Boyer later attended Freeland Seminary, which is now known as Ursinus College.

He completed his formal education at only sixteen years of age, and in 1866 became a schoolteacher at the public school in his neighborhood. Kline then moved on to other teaching positions, including ones with a “classical academy” in Philadelphia and a Quaker school in the Byberry neighborhood of the city.

In 1868, he received a grammar school teaching certificate and moved to Camden, New Jersey, to work as the principal of a school there. Boyer did this until 1871, at that time he left his position in Camden to pursue the study of law in Philadelphia at the firm of former United States Attorney General Benjamin H. Brewster. In 1873, at the age of 23, Boyer was admitted to the Bar in Philadelphia County, where he focused on civil cases.

Political Career Begins & Flourishes

Starting out as a lawyer, Boyer took up permanent residence in Philadelphia and practiced well through the 1880s, attracting political attention. He was an active member of the Young Republicans of Philadelphia, and “his growing inclination for public affairs led him in the Spring of 1882 to attend a meeting of Republicans … to (choose) delegates for the state convention.” He was announced then as a delegate for the Seventh Ward of Philadelphia. He received a strong showing but lost. In the fall, he then ran for and won his first race, for the Pennsylvania Statehouse. Winning handily, Boyer had gone from a lawyer to a politician.

Henry K. Boyer served as State Representative for the 7th District of Philadelphia County for six terms, both before and after his time as Treasurer. Boyer served from 1883 to 1890, 1893 to 1894, and 1897 to 1898. He became a powerhouse in the State Legislature, with some of his legislative activities involving being a driving force behind the bill that created the Pennsylvania State Board of Health, encouraging citizens to plant trees, and regulating pharmacies. His action on these matters during his first term did not go without notice, as on January 4, 1887, at the age of 37, Boyer was elected as the unanimous choice of the Pennsylvania House Republican Caucus to be the next Speaker of the House. He was elected Speaker again the next term, and for a third non-consecutive time upon his return to the house in 1896 after serving as Treasurer.

As Treasurer

The sitting Speaker of the Pennsylvania House of Representatives, Boyer was elected as Treasurer of Pennsylvania in 1889. The State Republican Convention, which less than 10 years before had denied his bid to be only a delegate to it from Philadelphia, unanimously selected him as their pick for Treasurer. Pennsylvania Senator Boies Penrose introduced him at the convention, with the Philadelphia Times quoting Penrose as saying that he knew of “no other man” for the job.

In his acceptance speech, Boyer said he was a “proud and happy man,” and that the party had “made a correct choice. … I assure you I will endeavor to merit your confidence.” Boyer was elected in what was the largest total majority ever given to a Republican candidate in a political off-year. When the returns were coming in, the Snyder County Tribune reported that “Well, we have got Boyer and are very happy.”

In the role of Treasurer, Boyer authored the extensive Revenue Act of 1891, and he saw to it that schools specifically received substantial funding. However, in 1891, Boyer was locked in a corruption scandal along with Auditor General Thomas McCamant. A Philadelphia politico had been discovered that year as being corrupt, so a sweep across the Commonwealth revealed allegations of corruption…as far as Boyer’s direct role in any corruption, it was written that he was “criminally negligent at best and corrupt at worst.”

The scandal ultimately did not lead to his removal from office after the Senate split on talks to oust him, although Dauphin County prosecutors charged him with the misappropriation of $600,000 in funds. Once again, it never got off the ground, and Boyer retired at the end of his term while immediately making another successful bid to the Pennsylvania House and Speakership.

Later Life & Death

Boyer went back to the House after his term as Treasurer, holding the Speakership once more. The Capitol burned down during his tenure, and Boyer led sessions of the Legislature from places like the nearby federal courthouse and Grace United Methodist Church. He resigned from the House on January 17, 1898, after being appointed as Superintendent of the U.S. Mint in Philadelphia. He retired from the Superintendent position in 1902, and after that, spent the rest of his life in various pursuits.

He was a fan of farming, especially dairy farming, and at one point through his retirement had a 130+-acre dairy farm that he worked painstakingly on. It was reported that at this farm, Boyer remodeled every single farm building, purchased the best farm implements, got everything up to date, and had some of the most fertile soil in Pennsylvania. Besides investing in his dairy farm, he invested in land and other buildings, such as an old hotel, and enjoyed planting as much foliage as possible around his many acres of land, just as he encouraged citizens to do in one of his signature bills as a state representative.

In 1910, he was living as a boarder in Collegeville, Pennsylvania, in 1920 he was living by himself in Lower Providence, Pennsylvania, and in 1930 Boyer was living in Red Hill, Pennsylvania.

Never married, and never having children, Henry K. Boyer died at the age of 83, days shy of his 84th birthday, on February 14, 1934, in Red Hill, Pennsylvania. He was buried at Chelten Hills Cemetery. The York Dispatch eulogized him as “one of the well[-]known figures of a past generation in politics,” and the Philadelphia Inquirer highlighted him as “an outstanding figure in Pennsylvania politics in the last quarter of the 19th century.”

His place of residence
currently repurposed into to Play & Learn,
formerly Boyer School, 35 Evansburg Road
as iterated above aforementioned building
constituted quaint grade school
(one classroom per grade),
wherein I still remember
The golden-rod is yellow;
the first line of a poem
titled September by Helen Hunt Jackson

memory of mine jogged,
when remembrance of things past
pertaining to my boyhood
at about eight (almost nine) years old
strongly instructed to memorize
and be able, eager, ready and willing
to recite said poem
(other classmates as well needed
to abide by assignment or else...)

despite being a diminutive lad
with a pronounced nasal sound
(courtesy of submucous cleft palate - split uvula)
approximately fifty seven years ago
reprinted here with permission of
Your Daily Poem
P. O. Box 14054
Greenville, SC 29611.

September - now follows suit
by
Helen Hunt Jackson

The goldenrod is yellow;
The corn is turning brown;
The trees in apple orchards
With fruit are bending down.
The gentians bluest fringes
Are curling in the sun;
In dusty pods the milkweed
Its hidden silk has spun.
The sedges flaunt their harvest,
In every meadow nook;
And asters by the brookside
Make asters in the brook.
From dewey lanes at morning
the grapes' sweet odors rise;
At noon the roads all flutter
With yellow butterflies.
By all these lovely tokens
September days are here,
With summer's best of weather,
And autumn's best of cheer.
But none of all this beauty
Which floods the earth and air
Is unto me the secret
Which makes September fair.
'T is a thing which I remember;
To name it thrills me yet:
One day of one September
I never can forget.
Harken and cue lyrics to All I Need Is a Miracle
Song by Mike + The Mechanics.

Aye, a quizzical hunky-dory
spied re: anomaly doth attest
forsooth to see himself as a mister
re: wordsmith, with whimsical
much about ado about nothing to write,
who hoped for a miracle
within the blink of an eye
videre licet, the lottery ticket of sight
immediately after cataract removal surgery
of the right eye
quite early today August 29th, 2024
at the DelVal ASC -
The Eye Surgery Center
744 West Lancaster Avenue
Suite 110, Wayne, Pennsylvania 19087.

A clear plastic eye covering worn after cataract surgery called an eye shield constitutes a lightweight, transparent shield that protects the eye from injury and particles that can cause irritation and infection. The shield usually secured with surgical tape and worn for several hours, with only removal to put in eye drops.

Aside from far fetched fat or slim chance
to draw a winning lottery ticket, yours truly
would feel gratuity if vision of mine
rendered me able
to see and befriend
Incy Wincy spider
climbing up the spout,
when Down came the rain
and washed the spider out.

Afterwards Out came the sunshine
and dried up all the rain,
And Incy Wincy spider
climbed up the spout again.

Ah the promise to arise in the morn
(which turned out to be a premature *******)
without the need for glasses ideally
to reveal sights unseen
(such as the above) restored to me
no less than twenty/twenty vision
without making a spectacle of myself.

Yours truly spins prevarication
courtesy using organs
called spinnerets located
on the underside of abdomen
linkedin on a grander scale
being spiritually tethered
to the webbed wide world
leaving realm of mine
overactive imagination to recaptcha
a divine creator

christened Matthew Scott Harris
emulating figurative rock climbers
as he finagles a precarious
toehold and finger hold
scaling the apex of wuthering heights,
which analogy I likened to Fiona Apple's
The Idler Wheel Is Wiser
Than the Driver of the *****
and Whipping Cords Will Serve You
More Than Ropes Will Ever Do,

far from the madding crowd
proclaiming return of the native
after traipsing across the cyber sea
located longest album title
while searching for universal solvent,
which Longest title
of a music album is 156 words long,
achieved by Chumbawamba (UK)
with the album
"The Boy Bands Have Won",
released 3 March 2008.

The full title of the album is "The Boy Bands Have Won, and All the Copyists and the Tribute Bands and the TV Talent Show Producers Have Won, If We Allow Our Culture to Be Shaped by Mimicry, Whether from Lack of Ideas or from Exaggerated Respect. You Should Never Try to Freeze Culture. What You Can Do Is Recycle That Culture. Take Your Older Brother's Hand-Me-Down Jacket and Re-Style It, Re-Fashion It to the Point Where It Becomes Your Own. But Don't Just Regurgitate Creative History, or Hold Art and Music and Literature as Fixed, Untouchable and Kept Under Glass. The People Who Try to 'Guard' Any Particular Form of Music Are, Like the Copyists and Manufactured Bands, Doing It the Worst Disservice, Because the Only Thing That You Can Do to Music That Will Damage It Is Not Change It, Not Make It Your Own. Because Then It Dies, Then It's Over, Then It's Done, and the Boy Bands Have Won."
Otherwise titled deep into my fiftieth year of passive aggressive rebellious puberty.

Yes, I chickened out getting a haircut yesterday August twenty seventh two thousand and twenty four as stated in a previous poem before undergoing cataract surgery cause mine deux (mind you) ponytail donation of at least by donating at least eight inches of these straggly tresses to a facility that repurposes cut hair for Children with Hair Loss after getting golden – more specifically brunette imponderable locks lopped off, would still cost me thirty five dollars namely at Salon Nova (situated at west Ridge Pike, Suite A, Royersford, Pennsylvania, 19468) not including a tip, which extra bonus, (would most likely top off the total cost close to fifty dollars, but yours truly best ask this question ahead of time, which monetary fait accompli with scissors might best set my sights until speedy recovery videre licet post cataract surgery.

Sacrilegious transgression against deeply rooted obsessive compulsive disorder impossible mission to forcibly eject from out my psyche, until drastic measure of prefrontal lobotomy or Electroconvulsive therapy employed courtesy a thirteen year old.

Siege warfare (trumpeting)
average joe biden his time
linkedin with aberrant behavior
transpires within me mind,
(not just today August 27th, 2024,
but everyday/365)
warrants depleting stockpile arsenal
constituting exhausting mental health
uprooting deep seated repellent pesky
daunting lost cause.

Overruled by irrational thoughts,
I feebly muster a lame duck
half quacked comeback
(think home team cheering at pep rally)
against analogous figurative agents provocateur
said nemesis bore down hard
upon sense and sense abilities
mine psyche undergoing
blistering, hectoring withering, et cetera
courtesy ghost of Emily Brontë
mailer daemons flitting to and fro,
hither and yon within wuthering heights.

Another necessity Emma gin)
awoke prided prejudice
plus sense and sensibility
to confront head on
after trimming back the tresses
beastie boy foo fighting (Irish,
no matter genealogy regarding
yours truly Eastern European)
mine talking head housing
private insane asylum.

Incomprehensible thought processes
chronically spin out of control
dictate mandate NOT to wash hair
until at least one week passage of time,
(an arbitrarily chosen number
i.e. seven days convenient block)
even if appearance looks unkempt, slovenly
grungy, et cetera as nirvana seeking guy.

Thus, I readily admit self held hostage,
whereby loopy thought provoking patterns
hopelessly, grimly, futilely find me surrendering
NEVER eradicating down battened ramparts
neurotic, lunatic approved, idiotic
mind mental chattering
babbling jabbering gibberish
housing concocted village people
dead set against shampooing oily locks.

Quite a tussle (think metaphorical hair pulling)
ensues within me scrambled noggin,
whereby pathetic psychotic pummeling
win knows scrimmage
scoring touchdown amidst
teaming muted brouhaha
allowing, enabling, and providing
harmlessly insane nettlesome
pesky skewed notions
ridiculous leeway to predominate
until yours truly USDA
qualified, hashtagged, certified...
as grateful dead among human league.

I generally mean mine mien mental state
moost occasions heavily marinated stupor
long established as external trait
psychologically time tested trooper
impossible mission to kickstart sanity
doppelgänger regularly revisits his soul asylum
hellbent antimatter he cannot vitiate
despite therapeutic laxative merely exhausts
well bred literate smoking doobie brother
eliminating aforementioned pablum
witnessed courtesy one floundering grouper
among plenty of fish schooled
hyphenated (high finned haggled)
burn hushed scaled poem
courtesy one unionised rebellious party pooper.

Spellbound with colossal mental grippe
(i.e. all-consuming figurative cerebral
obsessive compulsive forced membership)
magnetic resonance imaging
indicated jagged blip
and/or nsync microscopy
showed telltale genetic authorship
regarding above stated mental health crisis,
whereby Sigmund Freud analyst did flip
lid freeing leeches imported courtesy Philip
Hansel and Gretel a mere slip
o' lass, whose nose she always did turnip.
from the Harris-Walz front
where liberal minded socially progressive
electorate doth agonizingly grunt
targeted in crosshairs scoped out
eager and ready to be mortally wounded
courtesy notorious big headed
(and bigoted) infamous
for bearing arms
as if going on a hunt
as attested to him and recorded for all of posterity on March 14, 2019 at 3:05 EDT by Analysis colunist Philip Bump, (a national columnist for The Washington Post; before that he led political coverage for The Atlantic Wire. One of the paper’s most read writers, he focusses on the data behind polls and political rhetoric), he recorded one of the most famous and insightful lines Donald Trump offered on the campaign trail in 2016 came during a stop in Iowa, shortly before that state’s caucuses.
“I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody and wouldn’t lose any voters, okay?” Trump said, mimicking firing a gun with his fingers. “It’s, like, incredible.”

"Blast it!!" I am gunning for the glib gal
versus MAGA sugar daddy
gesticulating his arms akimbo,
whose lowball unflattering unprintable
pet phrases for Kamala
indicative of a short, and nasty brute,
whose vile (hints) might be excusable
if he suffered epileptic seizures grand mal
drops names of ruthless dictators as his pal,
who sport trademark coiffed hirsute
allocating, designating, ginning, jumpstarting,
and mandating excessive monetary resources
for his poofed hair courtesy project 2025
and then when confronted becomes immediately mute
and does a spot on rendition of Marcel Marceau
engaging in ******* with a *******.

"Arms akimbo" is an adjective or adverb that means having your hands on your hips with your elbows turned outward. For example, "She stood there akimbo". The word "akimbo" comes from the Middle English phrase in kenebowe, which means "at a sharp angle". The word was first recorded between 1375 and 1425, and may come from the Old Norse phrase i keng boginn, which means "bent into a crook".

After watching some
of the Democratic National Convention,
mainly the first and second nights,
I felt tears of joy rapture
welling up inside me
after listening to such
brilliant, fantastic, nuances
sounding out monologues
utilizing English language
to maximize stellar oratory,
which lengthy list of speakers follows suit:

On Monday, delegates heard from former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, first lady Jill Biden and the president himself.

Tuesday's session featured addresses from former President Barack Obama, former first lady Michelle Obama, Sen. Bernie Sanders, Illinois Gov. JB Pritzker and others.

Wednesday night heard from former President Bill Clinton, Gov. Josh Shapiro, former Speaker Nancy Pelosi and Walz.

Here's the full speakers list for Thursday:

Minyon Moore, chair of the 2024 Democratic National Convention Committee
Invocation by Everett Kelly, national president of the American Federation of Government Employees, and Imam Muhammad Abdul-Aleem of Masjidullah Mosque of West Oak Lane, Pennsylvania
Presentation of Colors by the Illinois State Police Honor Guard
Pledge of Allegiance by Luna Maring, a 6th grader from Oakland, California
Rep. Veronica Escobar of Texas
Becky Pringle, president of the National Education Association
Randi Weingarten, president of the American Federation of Teachers
Sen. Alex Padilla of California
Marcia Fudge, former secretary of Housing and Urban Development
Rep. Ted W. Lieu of California
Sen. Tammy Baldwin of Wisconsin
Rep. Katherine Clark of Massachusetts, House Democratic Whip
Rep. Joe Neguse of Colorado
Mayor Leonardo Williams of Durham, North Carolina
Rep. Raja Krishnamoorthi of Illinois
Sen. Bob Casey of Pennsylvania
Sen. Elizabeth Warren of Massachusetts
Rep. Jason Crow of Colorado
Rep. Elissa Slotkin of Michigan
Rep. Pat Ryan of New York
Rev. Al Sharpton
Members of the "Central Park Five": Dr. Yusef Salaam, member of the New York City Council, and activists Korey Wise, Raymond Santana and Kevin Richardson
Amy Resner, former prosecutor and friend of Harris
Karrie Delaney, director of Federal Affairs at the ****, Abuse & ****** National Network
Lisa Madigan, former attorney general of Illinois
Marc Morial, president of the National Urban League
Nathan Hornes, former student at Corinthian Colleges
Tristan Snell, former New York State assistant attorney general
Gov. Maura Healey of Massachusetts
Courtney Baldwin, youth organizer and human trafficking survivor
Deb Haaland, secretary of the interior
John Russell, content creator
Rep. Maxwell Frost of Florida
Rep. Colin Allred of Texas
Joint remarks on "A New American Chapter": Anya Cook, Craig Sicknick, Gail DeVore, Juanny Romero and Eric, Christian, and Carter Fitts
National anthem by The Chicks
Kerry Washington
Joint remarks by Meena Harris, Ella Emhoff and Helena Hudlin
D.L. Hughley
Sheriff Chris Swanson of Genesee County, Michigan
Rep. Lucy McBath of Georgia, joined by Abbey Clements of Newton, Connecticut; Kim Rubio of Uvalde, Texas; Melody McFadden of Charleston, South Carolina; and Edgar Vilchez of Chicago.
Gabrielle Giffords, former member of the House
Performance by P!NK
Sen. Mark Kelly of Arizona
Leon Panetta, former secretary of defense
Rep. Ruben Gallego of Arizona
Gov. Gretchen Whitmer of Michigan
Eva Longoria, actress and film producer
Adam Kinzinger, former member of the House
Maya Harris
Gov. Roy Cooper of North Carolina
Vice President Kamala Harris.

Shoot! Thar haint no other candidate
within a bajillion miles
worth celebrating with unbridled fête
cuz the other contestant
(hands down) ranks as ingrate
man dragging fetters shrilly mutters,
the opposition mumbles,
no you don't get away with freedom
them words to ****, cuz
against peace mongers
this republic for liberty,
which country stands under
the grateful dead
someone must liberate
the ship of state
one must steadily operate
even courtesy motley skeleton crew
captained, governed, and trumpeted
by weird Wharton wimp
linkedin to leitmotif reprobate
with lips he doth undulate
poisoning the fresh air
and poll looting the audiological
and visual realm of vulnerable listeners
courtesy radio and television waves.
attempt to break thru Hadrian's Wall
while roam'n across cyberspace of urban sprawl
dark shadows spill across
the outer limits of the twilight zone
whereby edge of night
creeps brow of me, a Neanderthal!

Yours truly self proclaimed
er calculating polymath
no win no campy intent to kindle,
or spark hay8 full ire rate wrath
juiced whiling away
the early evening hour hath
horror hived this then February
twenty second two thousand eighteen,
revised this early afternoon of August 24th,
two thousand twenty fourth
nah scared to take a bath.

The Process (is a Process All Its Own)
self accomplishments, I modestly credit
a disembodied humble liberal spirit
eye up ply applies
to brainstorming with zest to whit
barn storming across das plains of google
to pitchfork embers tuff flickr tinder lee
with smart poetic dip pose zit
tool loom hen ate interior darkness
where lurks the monstrous akin to Perdido
otherwise known as perdition,

especially Native American
linkedin as The Buffalo Hunter
pseudonym adopted by Ballard and Sandrine,
The Green Woman, whose Side predicted to win
Pork Pie Hat predicated on Feng Shui yang and yin
force fields property aligned creates A Special Place
predominantly filled with A Dark Matter
only known (bee you wick), i.e.,The Skylark,
and of course Poe's Children, totaling 5 Stories
helpful to down with a chaser
viz - The Little Blue Book Of Rose Stories
Ideally red (red) in The Night Room,
where an unsuspected parvenu
absconded with Lost Boy, Lost Girl
housing Magic Terror, but interestingly
one must ask - Isn't It Romantic?

Via the perspective Looking Back
feigning to be combination of Mr. X, and/or
and Mrs. God innocent looking people
yet, the progenitors of The Hellfire Club
burnt offerings indistinguishable from Blue Rose
fragrance or melancholy Ghosts
resembling trumpeting Floating Dragon
invoking grabbing by The Throat sensation
Where spirits flit to and fro
throughout neighborhood Houses Without Doors

and games without frontiers
this...a millennial Mystery
unlike the generic Ghost Story,
the main anti protagonist and/or
pro antagonist, nonetheless named Koko
who calls The Juniper Tree home,
especially eerie Under Venus
provoking Wild Animals
kickstarting rolling stones
to run berserk at lightspeed

en masse Black Sabbath
bestirs cries and whispers
proto, pseudo psychedelic
quint essence ova thermocouple
holographic images hypnotizing
vista as Shadowland
explicit formula generating
happy interracial Marriages
nah...ha - ah, the joe cuz on ewe
especially, If You Could See Me Now!
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