Dedicated to stillborn fetuses, 99 cent Malt Liquor and Existentialism
1.
Nymphomaniac tree huggers
And overweight bisexual vegetarians
Swallowing phentermine poison to stay fit.

2.
Funky fresh *******  
throwing pigs at St. Augustine’s pear tree
and frolicking abortions over Moloch’s philoprogenitiveness,

3.
While sipping barbecue sauce dipped in Lipton tea,
dancing around adhesive bonfires
reciting memories of holocaust, the Kristallnacht nights
and beautiful words suffered by ancestors lost.

4.
Inhale chicken noodle soup, with a side of Lithium,
And prance to Literacy class to combat envisionment
With free association conceptual constructions,

5.
Computerized like Prometheus’ fire burning through SmartBoards
In classrooms where the poison of heterosexual history
Is fed to boys in skirts cursed by Adam’s apple,

6.
Baptized by social norms and locked away in hopeless closets
According to the Tautology of Leviticus…
until they cut their breath by the vein of soteriology;

7.
Misunderstanding of God’s words
Covets the innocent to early graves
In biblical paratactic irony…like God betting Satan for a Job.

8.
Rub fried chicken oil on Bartholomaeus Anglicus’ skin
and soil his white pride with ***** flavor,
for revenge  On the Properties of Things

9.
and howl out in glory of victory
over totes of  lickerish piper methysticum blunts
that beg the conundrum,
'What is the origin of this world?'
'Ether,' he replied.
But it is not ether!
Nor Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.
It is Dada. Dada. Dada!
  10.
For this is a record of the life stories of the greatest minds and geniuses of your generation,
written in boys and girls
who mimicked Basquiat’s genius and tagged bathroom walls with abstract philosophies like “Love is a prime number” and “ the weight of Duncan McDougall’s soul can only be found on the 15th of October”
who drank vampirish gulps of Vicodin while consoling themselves with aphorisms such as: “don’t rue the misses, you don’t need a Mrs. when you’re elevated by chemical kisses”
11.
Who stood naked in mirrors, weeping, for they were a mystery to themselves, but a great talent and soon to be legend to some.
Who lit cannabis in loneliness and waltzed naked with their ghosts, fantasizing about ****** tomatoes and Corpus Christi Mexican Jazz.
Who composed psychedelic anthems from dreams that were lost in ghettoes where virginities were lost for loaves of bread, for the hunger of bread.
12.
Who wrote suicide notes on a toilet seat, contemplating the texture of Marshall Mathers’ favorite underwear and whether the color green was an invention of **** Germany.
Who used to love their lovers in darkness and colored the streets of Manhattan with rainbows on June 24, 2011 to mark the date lady liberty finally bought a new pair of glasses.
13.
Who lost musical talents to a Wine-house and ended up in a whine-house where lobotomy was subsequently prescribed by the milligram.
Who indulged in pharmaceutical vices and when asked why replied simply, every recursively enumerable set is Diophantine.
Who diagnosed themselves with “start ****-itis” and self medicated by eating Fifinellas at the stroke of each midnight.
Who rubbed paraprosdokians on their skin and occupied Wall Street in search of a new euphemism for being American.
Who poured Alkalizer on a dead moose and kicked it while feasting on the divine question, “why does Rice play Texas?”
14.
who got bored with conventional relationships and bought the Origin of the World on street corners from vixens nicknamed “Jezebel” and climaxed atop of them screaming  “I’m in Babylon, the great Mother of ******!”
Who attempted suicides upon suicides upon suicides, in Oakland, until they were shipped away to private catholic universities in Rhode Island, where the history of Colossus was being taught.
15.
who serenaded love interests with four letter curse words at open bars where Kubla Khan was read and Tartars kings were licked all over like holy communion *****.
Who drove home with the spirits of wine and crashed on telephone poles where their obituaries were written in their prime, leaving their mothers weeping and calling congress to reconsider Prohibition.
16.
Who mixed Redbull with Propofol and drank the juxtaposition galore only to be woken up the next morning dead in their sleep.
Who tattooed rat poison packages with goodwill messages such as “****** divided by Water =6th day of creation” or “Seroquel + Brett Favre = St. Patrick”,
who went speedballing with Basquiat during autoscopy and woke up wondering the cost of Nautilus in Albuquerque.
17.
who took 33 hallelujah 1800 tequila jello shots and daydreamed about laying on Mithras’ grave, yelling, beetlejuice, beetlejuice…beetlejuice.
who found the truths of the Bible invalid by the miscalculation of Pi in 1 Kings 7, verse 3, and mailed death on anthrax letters to Reagan in protest.
18.
who sat empty bellied at breakfast tables wondering the temperature of satellites at Lagrangian points,  only to soon catch fire in their tongues and speak Labyrinth soliloquies that ended in
19.
Zion,
Where Google knows every answer.
In Zion
Where the youth, tomorrow’s future, quote a ***** named Hova better than they can quote Jehovah.
In Zion
Where *******’s art was used as weapon during the Cold war.
20.
In Zion
Where sartorial geniuses where no pants,
In Zion
Where David Kato Kisule is the secret hero of these words, for he was taken at a time
In Zion
Where we were supposed to be our ancestor’s sci-fi.

21.
In Zion,
Where the youth bear the scarlet letter X for they are a problem to tradition and hold no definition for the future, for they have discovered
In Zion
That the origin of this world is in their living eyes, and not in the dictionary of their ancestors who lived
In Zion
when the epitome of the literature of life ended in Revelation of Amen and Shantih shantih shantih;
this is a record of the greatest minds and geniuses there ever was, written
in Zion
where the meaninglessness and nothingness of Dada reigns, and the trinity of life now lives in the Subject, subjective and subjectivity.

As concerning therefore the eating of those things that are offered in sacrifice unto idols, we know that an idol is nothing in the world, and that there is none other God but one. For though there be that are called gods, whether in heaven or in earth, (as there be gods many, and lords many,) But to us there is but one God, the Father, of whom are all things, and we in him; and one Lord Jesus Christ, by whom are all things, and we by him.*

                             I Corinthians 8  [KJV]



Roll a Yule log on the fire
and let the mystery-cult inspire.
What Persians, Gauls, and Romans knew
could teach us all a thing or two
about midwinter celebrations
warming frigid Northern nations.

The Phrygian cap he used to wear,
holly entwined with evergreens
still linger in our current year
recalling dim pre-Christian scenes.
Some strange vestigial rites remain:
The specter of the Lydian Bishop.
No bull—but reindeer pull his train
spreading love, inspiring worship
mixed with Nordic pageantry,
barbaric sensuality,
and glimmers of Medieval night;
His season beckons, burning bright.
In England's prim polyphony
voices call across the centuries
no remnant of tauroctony
resurrecting pagan memories.
Drunks and rebels hum the tunes -
they lift the cup, they cast the runes
participating unawares
in Eleusinian affairs
like office parties, trees in houses:
timeless ritual that rouses
peace and love, goodwill to men.
(is it so diabolic then?)
Ghosts of Roman soldiers laugh:
the sun-god wears a funny hat.
His bull was just a golden calf
that grew up sacrificially fat.

Who cares when Christ was born, or where—
the point is: God appeared on earth
to set the record straight, lay bare
unwelcome truth: the second birth.
A new religion superseded
what had been before. It needed
rituals to syncretize
(no drastic sin, in heaven's eyes).
Why rail against it? What is wrong
with festive fare and holy song?
You think you can set back the clock?
destroy the sun or banish God?
Why agitate the Shepherd's flock;
in vain you would restrain His rod...
Since Christ is all in all why bother
searching out old gods to smother?
Who denies He rules the ages
mocks your idols, stumps the sages?

And so you are without excuse
for finding reasons to be mad -
committing holy child-abuse
and making mother Mary sad.
Why fight the vibe, why square the wheel?
No point in Scrooging up the deal.
Just kiss beneath God's mistletoe
and let the blessed season flow.

At Summer Solstice, the Sun is far
distant from the celestial equator
and that day is the longest of the year.
From Khufu’s Great Pyramid at Giza
the scarlet Phoenix with the golden crest
swoops silent and low across the Delta.
Only half a millennium of life
before it passes to the flames of fire
and is reborn again from charred ashes.
This yang bird, fiery and blood cardinal
a solar flare blazing incandescent
pumps joy from the igneous heart of earth
erupts red hot energy volcanic
exciting and swirling the power of Qi.
Sun’s light and heat brings universal life,
and worshipped as Samash, Mithras and Ra,
Aztec God Tezcatlipoca,
Greek Helios, Phoebus and Apollo.
Now comes the agile Phoenix, sunset-stained
Broad-winged and gliding in the cloudless skies
Certain source of abundance and plenty
Plump-rich each berry, mango, peach, pear, plum.
Squeeze juicy sweet and succulent to taste
Summer full blown, mature and glorious.

© M.L.Emmett

This is possible.
Soul possession in owned patience, no mortgage,
no refi,
pieced together idle words,
used and abused, reused
food for thought
gleaned and horded patience.
All redeemed, for full worth in your eye.

What all we know, forms, in patience
fire,
for instance,
not long ago, you know, fire
was
craft, the making of it, was magic
as anything
witnessed, seen and attested to by two
or twelve or twenty, however many

five hundred, okeh, 500 miles walking,
while 2 seemed too far,
patience, life is a test, you are the best at
resisting
the gottabe this
way
mine,
my child, my future seed sown, grown wild,
twisted
espelliered, oh so, there was a wall
around the garden, which
was there for a reason
in the story,

oh, so many stories in ever are untold.
s'cool, we got contingency mods

we are ready, right? You read a whole lot to be
ready, when now happens

as if the story took a million years to arrive at
now, your page, or chapter, or name, just

your name, after your ears fell off, there
you found it, in the bibliography of the book of life

as listed in the amazon cloud. Chronos order.

First test to ever after now, what is the Gebser handle on it?
The Ever-Present Origin.

-- stop flash 2021 link to the as youwere a mazda, the name,
thing spread-winged thing on a wheel with a stiffened spiral,
****** media image in ever now, that symbol, bird with too wide wings
on a unicycle with spiral spokes in some
iterations, then
leafing branch tree structuring shape
spokes
in a wheel in a wheel,
gears and wheels to balance time and worth
the ef- fort if I can okeh
I kan das  sig gefun den
dat
dare
straight center outer way oomphala always starts
in any seed or ideal encompassing all the information needed
the zoroastrian symbol is related… at the avian level of sci-use, lizard brain, where t-cells train,
art instituted entertain ment, tthis is us sorta
see the totem, see the flag, see the fire, see us dance
see the shadows,
those dance too.

to form a piece of every theory of everything with words in it.
Word.
We be all that ever matters, at moments like this.
Doncha love the cheesiness,
ripe, , message
says
it still smells like food.
Stomach rumbles, there is a word for that, bunny trail,
brain bubble,
been there done that and the whole gang from 10-18, the novel,

all of em, Notacrook, the whole cast, on that stage
in this book of my life with you in it.

We can work some wonders with 2014 tec + the connection
Ai ai ai, I say, I love to say I love living now

time is as always, changing, to the beat of my own tin drum.
We won.
We do not study war, we study life, and life is a story all its own.

---------------------


Pure, mere realm of mind in time
immaterial ever origin fin ginfinginfingin
imagine
an engine that starts
but but but you never knew such things were known

as common sensed events, shadows shown on walls
for all the seers, in the shade of this wall
arising in the book of life I am involving in my solution…

FTA… to this day it does mean find the answer,
but you can reinterpret am-big-u-is-us words say
FTA always think first first to attack, sir

it means, first to attack, t' me.

soon's I see the whites of those eyes comin' up my
bunker's hill,
if I have to -- glitch have hold to of -- must say
he's too old to cuss the mustard any more,
let all the seed blowwildwisht away

Peace, in my time. DID I imagine this?
In a way, I did, I think.
I made a way this could happen, and it did,
because I did not do something wrong
at one of the right times to do
something in the former
time-state-stage e re en
volvement in humus re-entropication, getting old
maturing adul-tatifity
this idea of dying, so slow
I can see trees grow, and the crow in the momma pine
musta died, he never came back after that last big ******
in february, I think, around the time
my house ate a tab of acid, 2021.

Tep. Yep. could be we stretch a point and make some
thing be
real enough to feel if there was a 10 wpm to 2 or 3 each
breath
or beat of your heart, as mine
stops
- thinks back to the ori-gin fin gin
- point
- spark
in the stretching, on the rack, you know the image, stretch
FREEDOM
splat.

Not that. This realm of timeless reason being.

Thinking iferies you must imagine
or not sense, not sense as non
presence
in time to glimpse the if that winks at you and laughs,

you saw, says this other, joy-driven, you can feel it,
feel it, this is
eu-daemonical ha, I knew it, we have a recipe for this,
I wrote it down

---------- but this works if you stir it in with the rest
at the end of your last war, you can make a fine rest
with just this little bit of patience built by reading this, twice.

The son of a carpenter climbed a cross
And Saturnalia was lost forever…
Slaves, adorned in masters clothing
once drank out of the golden goblet and goosed the mistress
vied with paupers for King of Fools
banged pots and pans, slept with sloe-eyed boys til morning
poked, prodded, pampered, kissed, and loved again
The solemn lords of the city peered from their heavenly contemplations
and felt, like a worm in the mysticism of direct communication with    god
a bit of remorse, a hint of resentment against the marble steps,
a yearning for the dance, for the abandonment of the senses
for a pageant worthy of those ***** old gods

MITHRAS, BACHUS, DIANA, DISCORDIA.

Before Christmas pushed jostled and shoved the holiday
out of the way,
we opened our homes to all the poor
they become the masters for the day.
while we ran behind with dishcloths and wild cries of
DON”T BREAK THAT
and infused with a small perverse pleasure
took our masks down for a night -
I will play sly servant lass
while my staid husband is forced into corners
with women who struggle to keep their teeth in
And their children fed.

If there were no Jesus,
the tree would still go up for the Norse
the presents still go out for the British
the children still adored for Saturn
the feast still cooked for the old Germanic tribes –

humility, guilt and being saved, saved, saved
saved from the drunkards in the streets,
saved from the firecrackers, the happy children, the Yule log,
saved the togetherness, the topsy-turvy of this most celebrated
happy out-of-control neighborly Solstice ancient block party-

That came from Christ.

Thanks Jesus, you old scrooge.

my kindness has now been commodified
whereas before it triggered hate
--seen as weakness, as cruelty's plaything--
still, i saturate to what extent i can
my daily happy-dance with honest friendship,
compassion's ease, delight and pet-store equipoise.
yet my sincerity is sloganed, emptied of its worth:
trained to say 'rewards program' in stead of 'membership, account';
'guests' in stead of 'customers'
'team-players' in stead of 'employees'
'long-term relationships' as first and foremost mission statement's goal--
slither-scripted to promote a highest bottom line
as language euphemizes baby mice as 'pinkies,
fuzzies, hoppers': 'feeders' for a petted multitude
of scaly, fang-ed maws.

pre-thanksgiving christmas-trees
on either side of automatic double-doors--
styro-snowflakes hung
by wrapping-papered end-cap shelves on sale
to swipe our plastics to a higher debt--
to tinsel out the shame of maybe giving less?
reminding 'gift-time soon' and 'this could be a gift'
to ward off never having given childhood its due?
or of being less than cheerful
at incessant jingled tunes?

november fifth--decorations up;
guy fawkes night of trick-or-treater-candies
tweeting hallowed flu-shots
as my manager in elf-cap-antlers squeals in glee:
says she starts promoting christmas back in august.
i tell her that's appropriate!
given jesus was perhaps born in august.
says she didn't memorize the bible.
i tell her that part was left out anyway--
i don't mention the holiday's titular meaning;
or the waiting gnostic manger,
royal transhistoric camels,
mary on her donkey, joseph's wind-blown face
las posadas... the loneliness of exile
O mary... in her starlit tears of unknown pain and joy--
the unremitting love for barnfloor bodyheat,
todos santos
nonhominin humanity...
earthling rights day
a stranger's kindnesses
of yule-tide warmth and evergreen,
solstice-fulcrum festivals of lights
veteran's day's existential loss
and bureaucratic selfhoods shelved;
gurpurb at a gurdwara
the martyrdom of guru tegh bahadur
the garifuna settlement day
the tazaungdaing festival
fasting over christian as well as buddhist lent
the five days of deepawali, diwali:
bodhi day
découverte d'haïti and vertières
jamhuri day
chalica
zamenhof day
sadeh
pancha ganapati
malkh
soyal
mithras day
osiris, adonis and dionysus day (all dec. 25th)
humanlight
--republic day! national day! and proclamation day!
in the maldives, brazil, northern cyprus, chad, yugoslavia;
in the central african republic, burkina faso, kenya, malta, kazakhstan, niger, south sudan...
chahrshanbeh soori
modraniht
the dongzhì festival
the saturnalia of pagans (lit. "country dwellers"; "those of the heath")
dies natalis solis invicti
newtonmas
kwanzaa
watch night
hanukkah
boxing day
malanka
the day of goodwill
wren's day
quaid-e-azam's day
yeni il
guru govind singh jayanti
international solidarity day of azerbaijanis
fête du vodoun
hogmanay
Iemanjá
darwin day
milad-un-nabi
lohri
pesach
chocolate-egg-laying fertile-bunny-day-- or ishtar day
butter week, crepe week, or cheesefare week-- or maslenitsa

May today bring unbridled bliss
delivered courtesy sunshine kissed
giving Midas a run for his money.

When the last trace of night
evaporates analogous to milky hue,
whereat a dreamy state
pervades thy being from tropical delight
as  approach of Dawn
highlights morning landscape Gaia drew
ah, a paradise
in pristine majestic light
arced, bathed, chiseled displayed
described, elongated, fingered gilt
heraldic imagery joyfully

kindling luminosity
markedly novel picture
quintessentially resplendent
sedating this ubiquitous voyager
waking xing vision
yawning zealot acquiesces
bounteous chimerical dalliance
betwixt Goddess delivering break of day
against defeated quotidian
celestial vault, where Mithras dethroned

the capriciously finicky
inky beleaguered darkly crest
etched fading faux French Gendarmes
into humongous jagged lances
endowing sinosoidal amplitude
modulations nudging raiment
donned by trumpeting requiem,
quiescent pronouncement
obliging new morning laminating,
kneading, and jettisoning

remnant shreds twilight
understood voicing willingness
Xerxes yeomen paid tribute
as did preceding and subsequent
captivating Earthlinked
fighting globe trotters held hostage
upon thee third rock from the sun
straddling an invisible saddle
which oblate spheroid
forfeited, manacled, and pitched
tarry sky (vis a vis feathery touch)

as one more ordinary day
wrested, tussled, and quickened
nocturnal nod toward solar spears
betook the reluctant
wrap of blackest night soundlessly forcing
transient ******* (overruling
the cerulean skies) until
dark shadows prefacing the edge of night
once again admirably, willingly,
and unequivocally surrendered  

a fair pact to take solace
whence the morrow allowed, enabled
and provided a ray of shining hope
(every now and again eclipsed)
via the Lunar trajectory
coinciding with axis
when spatial relations
commandeered thru cosmic consciousness
dictating gambit heft
forging atypical sliver of night

before cosmological laissez faire
retreated into the back round,
a universal choreographer
envisioning, insinuating,
maintaining quirkiness  
until recapitulation
sans astronomers predicted future
trio of heavenly bodies
would be aligned bedazzling Primates
access to espy Corona of the sun.