10-17-25
nyc
><<><>
recently, had occasion to dine out at The Shed^
which necessitates safe Passage past Dylan's^
Candy, where everything, including the effusively
happy sales personnel, who implore you politely,
"try everything!that's new in the store"
however. this contradicts two main principles,
when losing self control, cost be ****** (nothing
is cheap here), and every candy of your childhood
is offered up by weight, and sufficient sufficiently
small bags, but truly big enough to do plenty damage,
encourage grabbing two handfuls de min-mas, that holiday,
of each of your
childhood taste buds memory buds
going going gone!r haywire
Will not reveal what we went home with, more than four
bags full; other than to say the munching began
when we climbed into a taxi to take us to our
dark webbed homeward~hiding places
Do not ask me how much I spent, this factoid is
currently unknown to me, for the time being,
As I chose not to look when the " receipt"
was proffered, but the devil and his due
May miss an appointment or two, but
All tallies, CC CONSUMED, all calorie counts
must be recorded
to account for the strange variations in your
imMoral behavior not to mention your – disscaling,
"weigh yourself before any consummation of consumption!"
that morn event calendar prophetic, informs
is resident in the
waiting room of the early mourning
to mock you with an upside crooked smiley face,
and if you should own a scale that talks
to you, like/lie, mine does, one detects
the tone of opprobrium, sneeringly delivered
so I too ask?
Where is the poem
my fine grown-up child?
How do I express my self – loathing, the undoable unknowing,
that we very grown-up adults, weary from endless to do lists
and chains of responsibility, completion of a task,
that dawns upon your overloaded compass of healthy living,
when appily obliterated in pen, the no! no! necessitated, and
additional two more; if only we had beads to count
those might be my numbing mumbling be,
surely much more pleasantly
But I do not; and more astounding than the delicious
Taste of giant jellybeans in unusual flavorss, is my
Amazement at the incredible ease, with which I discarded
My adult disguise
today, I contemplate a visit to the playground,
where slides too narrow, for adult rears,
and climbing challenges a-bound,
likely broken bones are now a much more
likely, dreaded consequence
But I must write this poetry, without reservation,
Confessing my guilt to the entire world of nations,
I consulted the United Nations who only asked me
where such treats were readily available, even
after the bedtime hour of most good children and reprobates
who possess a credit card expense account
the ease with which I digressed from my guru's
summary and profoundly wizzy wisdom nuggets,
ill disturbs the remaining ruins of my complacency,
challenging me
to never return and never forget...
this is not the first lapse, and if I decided on Hail Mary's,
or my chest to pound, Vidui^^ style of Yom Kippur,
while reciting the liturgy of the of all the sins not permitted,
inescapably, confrontationally, I would see Gluttony, be listed,
with no white spaces between the lines and no spaces within
to hide,
This poem would still be written…
I summoned up from my file, all my addictions,
Crimes I've committed, most of which I have not been
found Guilty thereof, other than in the mind, which washes
them clean nightly (hence the record-keeping, less we forget)
Is this a poem? Perhap,
I cannot care; it is the
The Amazing Ease Equatorial line, which I crossed over
the sin no more line, veterinary a moments consideration,
that shocks me, and begs me to confront my absence
*When the would be, used to be, adults
are in the candy store*
They say, tying a little red string about your index finger
can often improve helpful in restraining this youthful
vigor of overlooking and forgetting; sadly I have no red thread
and if such exists in this abode, I do not wish to know
So this is my confessional, having requested all the leftovers
Be distributed to our young grand niece and nephew,
Please spell spare me that guilty accusation,
For I have already added it to the list with serious
nat-known-no!tationals
I-am> , I-was>
the adult
in the room,
the human child...ageless and faceless
in the Candy Store
and the venality of my grievous erroring,
not~now appears on my notifications and reminders,
at random times.
in case the child cries out begging
for the grown up version of forgiveness,
absolution
Oct 17, 2025
Oct 17, 2025 at 11:19 AM UTC
10-17-25
nyc
><<><>
recently, had occasion to dine out at The Shed^
which necessitates safe Passage past Dylan's^
Candy, where everything, including the effusively
happy sales personnel, who implore you politely,
"try everything!that's new in the store"
however. this contradicts two main principles,
when losing self control, cost be ****** (nothing
is cheap here), and every candy of your childhood
is offered up by weight, and sufficient sufficiently
small bags, but truly big enough to do plenty damage,
encourage grabbing two handfuls de min-mas, that holiday,
of each of your
childhood taste buds memory buds
going going gone!r haywire
Will not reveal what we went home with, more than four
bags full; other than to say the munching began
when we climbed into a taxi to take us to our
dark webbed homeward~hiding places
Do not ask me how much I spent, this factoid is
currently unknown to me, for the time being,
As I chose not to look when the " receipt"
was proffered, but the devil and his due
May miss an appointment or two, but
All tallies, CC CONSUMED, all calorie counts
must be recorded
to account for the strange variations in your
imMoral behavior not to mention your – disscaling,
"weigh yourself before any consummation of consumption!"
that morn event calendar prophetic, informs
is resident in the
waiting room of the early mourning
to mock you with an upside crooked smiley face,
and if you should own a scale that talks
to you, like/lie, mine does, one detects
the tone of opprobrium, sneeringly delivered
so I too ask?
Where is the poem
my fine grown-up child?
How do I express my self – loathing, the undoable unknowing,
that we very grown-up adults, weary from endless to do lists
and chains of responsibility, completion of a task,
that dawns upon your overloaded compass of healthy living,
when appily obliterated in pen, the no! no! necessitated, and
additional two more; if only we had beads to count
those might be my numbing mumbling be,
surely much more pleasantly
But I do not; and more astounding than the delicious
Taste of giant jellybeans in unusual flavorss, is my
Amazement at the incredible ease, with which I discarded
My adult disguise
today, I contemplate a visit to the playground,
where slides too narrow, for adult rears,
and climbing challenges a-bound,
likely broken bones are now a much more
likely, dreaded consequence
But I must write this poetry, without reservation,
Confessing my guilt to the entire world of nations,
I consulted the United Nations who only asked me
where such treats were readily available, even
after the bedtime hour of most good children and reprobates
who possess a credit card expense account
the ease with which I digressed from my guru's
summary and profoundly wizzy wisdom nuggets,
ill disturbs the remaining ruins of my complacency,
challenging me
to never return and never forget...
this is not the first lapse, and if I decided on Hail Mary's,
or my chest to pound, Vidui^^ style of Yom Kippur,
while reciting the liturgy of the of all the sins not permitted,
inescapably, confrontationally, I would see Gluttony, be listed,
with no white spaces between the lines and no spaces within
to hide,
This poem would still be written…
I summoned up from my file, all my addictions,
Crimes I've committed, most of which I have not been
found Guilty thereof, other than in the mind, which washes
them clean nightly (hence the record-keeping, less we forget)
Is this a poem? Perhap,
I cannot care; it is the
The Amazing Ease Equatorial line, which I crossed over
the sin no more line, veterinary a moments consideration,
that shocks me, and begs me to confront my absence
*When the would be, used to be, adults
are in the candy store*
They say, tying a little red string about your index finger
can often improve helpful in restraining this youthful
vigor of overlooking and forgetting; sadly I have no red thread
and if such exists in this abode, I do not wish to know
So this is my confessional, having requested all the leftovers
Be distributed to our young grand niece and nephew,
Please spell spare me that guilty accusation,
For I have already added it to the list with serious
nat-known-no!tationals
I-am> , I-was>
the adult
in the room,
the human child...ageless and faceless
in the Candy Store
and the venality of my grievous erroring,
not~now appears on my notifications and reminders,
at random times.
in case the child cries out begging
for the grown up version of forgiveness,
absolution
^ don't be a lazy ****** look it up in nyc,
^^ Viddui is a Jewish confessional prayer, a confession, recited during serious illness, and as a central part of the Yom Kippur liturgy. It is a prayer of acknowledgment and repentance, seeking forgiveness for sins and a peaceful transition, especially when death is imminent. The prayer can be recited by the individual themselves or by a loved one on their behalf.
Request permission to use this poem