~ encore un autre, inspiré par Sally B.~

another poem excised from an
interdepartmental message from
The Dept  of Poets, (Global), a
ridiculous thot mine, deserving of
removal, remorse and regret,
(modern human’s woke 3 r’s)
nonetheless deserved of exegesis,
mainly because I think so…

Surficially, I comprehend that of the bones,
of the billions of those who have gone to
their where~ever, if could speak. we would
require a huge commitment to building out
our cell phone networks, the best comm
tool, for portability between differing
dimensions, times and spaces

let us cut to the chase (thank god),
my bones shall be without a doubt
return to a granular dust, my minerals
contributing to some future breakfast
cereal, thus assuring my recirculated
inspiration for generations to come(?),
acknowledging that my “gifts” are
the product of apriori Jews who wandered
this planet, forever rootless and semi-
displaced by their haters for reasons
that have nothing to do with reason

By way of my gratitude that you have read
so far, hopefully to continue, let me assure
you that this P.  will not trend, nor spit or spot
or high lighted, as it’s worth is as fleeting as my bones, when one dwells on the size of space expanding and the time & space
continuum

that disclaimer claimed, we breathe easier,
and I happier, and now at last to the meat
of the matter:

My poems will wither, and eventually their
ions will be erased when the internet servers
undergo the many purges that yet will come
(better this than purging people)

yes, my ego’s cells, which one of you will
no doubt will imbibe and perhaps????
imbue, may actually reappear in a newness,
in a refreshing refreshment, that some Believers will think is absolutely brand new
(which it won’t be), for the new treads are on
the old treads, only now, dug a little deeper,

and I, in my ionosphere, inside my cells
yet within you, will muse amusedly,
“there is nothing new under the sun” (1)

but the sun will be shining and that is
good enough for all of us

Nov. 23
9:04 am
nyC

it will never make sense
that the mechanics
of the human body
allows for a person
to bite their own
tongue or cheek
mindlessly
yet with such force;
eye-watering
and debilitating
a momentary paralysis
of fist-clenched frustration
and wordless fury
the blood that flows
cannot be stemmed
must be left untended
and simply spat out
     or swallowed
before that metallic taste
taints every mouthful

Da Vinci code or more
mystique than that
cracking the secret  
only one that popped up
lost the tongue!

I saw my white tongue in the mirror and a feeling of disgust came over me. I wanted to throw up.

Somebody wrote "acurate"
And that seemed not quite right
I then responded to the mate
So that he may gain insight:
"It occurs to me that the accurate way
To write "accurate" is with recurring "c" ."
My friends will most likely hang me, nay,
I'm confident they're gonna find something worse for me...
But I liked the tongue-twister well
And in this sense,
Knowing I will burn in hell,
I added "That was a neat sentence"...