2.0 In quiet an unease and gloom perhaps would mind burdon to weight in too the gamble which my heart was struggled by to question the certain few and walk 2.1 meanwhile i did so far i knew only so little of but wonder but one or two i did dare nor could i think in that hour else but to count or guess i thought to day and night and myself another three or four or five the many was must had i go to find to came to new of dearanged senses to celestial was the wind to correct the view what i saw like frost on the window smiling like written in a childrens handwrite in the dew on the fields most beautiful rose 2.2 as if something unborn and whole and holy whispered: look! 2.3 And as soon i did i found myself in a land rather strange to call a stranger maybe would and might come to think as unnatural of course it must seem to you 2.4 in time reflect like the cold skin of the old snake does the future the past and present from his heads gliss blue and tip of the sweet tongue and poison behind cold eyes throught out the body moves forward and a crawl and the hiss and hunt of hours and minutes to use 2.5 the body lies gone until the tale it leaves behind to cruel the attemps to bite it has like a flock of storks whirl white it rolls around and clues like oclock the sun the day and the girl the boy and milk the ******* to bloom 2.6 how it ***** on the edge of souls where borders like the cloud to rain apure the world where dont dream anymore and love in due of else instead of adventures to be right instead of true and instead of every what another instead of beautiful another reason why not and not yes 2.7 we are and do it feasts on itself in a link of the high of the chain where its strong and where its weak it   lusts the mind in heat and hangs from much as a beat time a threath in a bottle to remember to mind near and return to sender in the same write of ink and same bottle of glass and from same shore it was found at to find its same way 2.8 in vain hope might but only fair and more by faith is the magic of what im about and is life if you ask so to complain least should what reason of mine to answer 2.9 to word a letter i do have decided to from what thrill it could be only to stole my mind from fear of death to think i might have died to do its worth i would again million times.

There are 12 types of joy:
simple joy
almost joy
systemic joy
Saturday joy
expressing joy
knowing joy
all joy
max joy
constant inputs of joy
single greatest joy
sacrifice or joy
the face of joy
at the periapsis of earth’s orbit.

(Ain’t “They” Great!)

Now watching 13 year old grandkid live-on-streaming-Internet,
playing Little League baseball in California, pleasantly surprised,

No, not by the amazing technology, or his super great play,
but the laugh-out-loud accommodation to the “au courant”

Game announcer, a soulless robot machine, stupid-smart, without exception, employs THEY pronoun for all, which after 10 seconds thot,

of serious reflection is a brilliant deflection, a solutionary salutation!
We come to see kids play ball, care not a whiff (double entendre),

re identity politicized insanity, machine makes everyone truly equal,
robbing stupids of a phony, proclamation of self-righteous “individuality”

God Bless No-Brainers!
Ain’t They Great!


~Postcript~

Introducing a newly Recomposed Natty:

still an OWG
(old white guy)
but now a Proudly, a gaily machine-made, in the USA

They.