(a story in trochaic tetrameter)

Even a Prince must bend his knee
to the lass who has won his heart.
“Please be my bride, stay by my side
forever - tell me we shall wed.”

“My love and affections are yours,
they have never been better fed
- you are surely pleasures master,
with your rough hands and softer lips.”

“Then let us petition the clerk,
we can be wed in a fortnight!”

Sometimes love takes dismaying turns.

There are standards, some are double.
The future princess must be chaste.

The clerk asked, “Are you a ******?”

“Do you seek to entrap us, sir?”
The prince asked, his hand to dagger.

“We cannot hoodwink the law, sir.
It must be asked and answered.”

And so the clerk asked it again,
“Would you swear on your honor miss?”

“If I had a virgins honor,”
the possible, future princess said.

The high clerk sighed and sheathed his pen.

“Most honest and least virtuous
lady, the marriage cannot be.”

“So, then the law is strictly tied
to something lost in love’s first blush?”
she asked, with no show of dismay.

“My actions follow the law, miss.”
If the clerk sounded bored, he was.

The prince, however, was outraged.
and on the verge of a salvo.

The clerk feared a soliloquy.

To stall the coming storm, the clerk
said, “I believe you KNOW the King?”

“He’s my father!” The prince revealed,
to no one’s shock or great surprise.

“The King, the law - the law, the King?”
The clerk's finger turned like a wheel.

Somewhere deep in princes mind
a dim bulb lit. “To the Castle!”

The clerk smiled wryly at the lass,
who shrugged back. Love would find a way.

Our logic is round
Like the world that we stand on
Our fathers are proud
We proved to be worthy spawn

Our reasoning is cyclical
Like the seasons return on schedule
Our mothers still cynical
That love exists beyond her child

Morality makes us whole
Like a cold drink from a clean spring
But do we have a soul?
The weight of the question runs deep

You can't prove me wrong
Isn't a good enough reason to act out
And just because a song is sung
Doesn't mean I have to listen to you shout

Across the track, a rail yard worker
big innocent bear of a guy, beer
belly, embraces his girl. She’s
a conductor, comes up to that belly,
reaches arms not quite around
his back. They separate and embrace
three times while the train prepares
for departure.
                           Across the aisle,
a mother and son. Lights out, change engines,
they play Mercy. Squeeze fingers until one
cries mercy. The son still too small
to seriously challenge his young, athletic
mom. Ask and answer questions, laugh
and cry mercy, she draws and he colors
the features.
                         Unless a society
expects its fate to be better than its past,
it will strive to make its present
immutable as possible.
Optimism is a way of exploring failure.
It says there is no law of nature
or supernatural decree preventing progress.
Nearly all failures, and all successes, are in
our future.

The husband of the mother is presumed
          to be the father of the child.
We think it best that one man should be doomed
          to bear the risk the seed is wild.

There are degrees of confinement,
And escape is not a crime.
But without a realignment,
I'm resigned to pantomime.

Earth, you have breached the contract of life, valuing ****** while murdering the innocent and just. You are sent to Hell and destruction immediately. Every continued negligent nuisance of abuse against the saints will be answered individually with an additional thousand years alone isolated in eternal Hell.

it is one thing
to follow her into the dark

it is another thing
to borrow her fragmented words
and hold her in one hand
and a scale in another
and call it justice

but, by God
(whichever one you’d like to cite today
the kind one, the cruel one, and so on),

it is a whole different thing
to seize her by the neck
and rip the words from her throat
and twist them into cotton *****
and dip them into holy water
and force them back into her mouth
until she can no longer breathe
and no longer live and no longer exist
without drowning in a sense of helplessness
because we, the people, will always remember exactly how
you took your greed and shoved it into her mouth
and down her throat, until you stifled the cries of
‘my body, my choice’ with a book of myths and a man’s voice
weren’t you supposed to be our voice?
what was this all for? was the money so loud that
you could not hear the echoes of pro-choice?
our rage—will it be worth those thirty silver coins?

The idea that our founding fathers intended anyone over 18 to possess enough firepower to destroy the entire continental army of 1776 is absurd, arrogate and dangerous.

#repealthe2ndamendment

I believe most Americans are appalled at the wanton gun violence in America today.

Surely the ****** of young children is revolting to almost everyone and begs for some action.

But what can we DO about it? I mean REALLY.. really.

Republicans want to arm themselves more, while democrats use these events to ******* to gun control fantasies that either cannot pass as law or will be struck down by the courts.

I’d like to propose a real, actionable solution.

We would announce this plan in every high school in America, propagate the offer in every morning announcement until further notice:

Any young man (or woman, let's not be sexist here) who, in their heart of hearts feels sufficiently motivated (****-crazed) would immediately be sent to Ukraine where they could **** real Russians to their heart’s content.

They would only be trained if they wanted it, only be part of an organized unit if they desired it, they would be armed on arrival or they could bring their own initial arsenal if they had it at hand.

Once they achieved 200 certified Russian kills (this number is negotiable) they would be declared heroes and could either continue their good work or receive some sort of scholarship or cash.

This is just one, practical idea - you, my reader, are free to propose others.

This is not a joke, not sarcasm, irony or parody - let’s actually DO something, shall we?

What if logic isn't the most logical after all?
What if it could trap us into a way of thinking that ruled over the sub-conscious, and the conscious mind?
What if the laws of nature were broken? How would we know?
What if the laws of man were broken? How could we tell?
What if the most illogical thing could change logic, as a thing?
Is logic just an idea, to rule over all ideas?

Blue your mind, in the skies before your eyes