Every time I do a smell
I think it's cool, somehow just swell,
I turn around and look to see
If they caught on it was me.
I cast a frown and act confused
For all to know I'm quite bemused,
I quickly learned this is the key
To then bleat out...it wasn't me!

I feign a gaze of sad and hurt
Shuffle my feet across the dirt,
How could they think this one sweet boy
Would ever dream up such a ploy.
I wait a while, just stand around
Until all doubts have gone to ground,
Then with a twinkle and much glee
Another fly’s, followed by...it wasn't me!

I looked at you and I knew,
that my day had just begun.
You looked at me with that smile,
loaded with tons of fun.
We looked at each other,
and together we became one.

You said, “how do you do that… with the words?”
I said, “well, I know the English language…”
You said, “but the way you use it, I mean.”
I said, “Everything is poetry.”

So, you sat down with your mom
and you had a tough conversation
At the end, she asked you-
“how did you say all that to me?”
to which you answered-
“well, I know the English language.”
She said, “but the way you said it.”
and you replied, “Everything is poetry.”

Your mom went to bed early that night
and thought deeply about the end of that exchange
She pulled paper out of her printer the next morning
and she started writing
Nothing in particular- a stream of consciousness
A friend at work found this paper
and she read it out of concern for your mom-
she had been acting off
She went to your mom and she said,
“I love what you have written here.”
to which your mom replied-
“well, I know the English language.”
The friend continued,
“Yes, but what you say with it…”
Your mother’s response was, of course,
“Everything is poetry.”

The friend from work mentioned that conversation to her struggling artist boyfriend
He scoffed, feeling belittled in his craft, yet newly inspired.
There was an open mic that night
and he unveiled a new poem he’d been working on all week
At the end, an audience member called out-
“That ******!”
to which he responded-
“Everything *****.”

We were calculating theoretical yields on chemcollective
and somehow we ended up dancing to ”go left.”

We were finding oxidation numbers on labster
but somehow we started laughing.

We were balancing chemical equations on PhET
but now we’re singing “World we created” with hair-bush microphones.

Believe your competence - be impressed with your progress.
Attack every challenge with self-contained ease.
Armor yourself with confidence.
You’ll like the way you enjoy it.

Root of all evil, starring lito rodriquez, on the marquee,
too quick to see--
ah, ai knows, lito is
the latino, a, non procreatorrerior-ole'
in sense 8,
the series
sense seven is this one
you sense something has not yet
sequentially
been true, but ever
was so now has come, and the trick
is knowing when
the game ends,
and
life in the realm of reasons to be
that have remained reasons to try
to be, succeed the wish
to itch, as you can imagine, a
hair shirt sin-def fed acolytes, c
students of lessoning the unlearnt…
the itch that is successfully scratched
static elect, yes amber shades of evening,
yellow lensing, shooter lense, see the point
focus, mortal mind best self,
taking matters in mind and making
mothers of others that wish, hope pray
ah, ai knows, lito is/
no spoilers/
only notice-t by the sorted few
who watch matrix four during its elite
HBOMAX thirty-one day, hook
to the reason for the season,
leveling, all creed need
to see the his, of the season for the eternal
effectuality of constant
entertainment, when other times

we gathered around fires, and told tales
we gathered on the way home.

So, I have some bad news
I never truly loved you
I just landed here, at your bedside by default
My own fault
But never my intention
Now I must go
I've found another, in the drawer at my bedside is my new lover
This one's got potential