Not all things are perfect,
I am aware of that,
But there are days where I cannot seem to get by
Without soft-breathing in exhaustion
An “Oh ****…”
Or giving a “******”
A talking volume
When few or none are around
To scold me with their ears.
What, haven’t you heard “***” outside
Of TV sitcoms before?
Or "****" aside from around a college campus?
I still get reactions when these words are overheard
From my lips,
Though it’s my life,
And these words have a recurring frequency.
These words are not only a stress-reliever
For someone like me,
But simultaneously a linguistic culture,
A communicative temptation,
Yet also having a dominating expression,
Commanding no only attention
But seriousness.
Fine, do what you want,
Hurl my soul to eternal shame and torture,
But a “curse-ed” day is like a chimney,
Letting out the smoke
Of energy that powers my motivation and forwardness.

New poems are great to write
But even previous writes still have lessons and meanings
That even the author didn’t quite uncover.

Downloadable music is efficient and convenient
When certain physical technology cannot be found
Or obtained.
Yet an LP gets a previous generation to see
That music from any time and for all occasions
Is just as much accepted
Than the “latest” or “most trending” iTunes release.

eBooks can act like a portable library
For those who love a good book, newspaper, etc.
But seeing many paged, hardbound or paperback books
Helps readers to remember the quantity of a collection
And the discipline of organization
Rather than having a tablet always ready for on-the-go
When sometimes the only place to go
Is a living-room couch or dining-room table.

Video games are quick-advancing
And the various virtual realms are eye-capturing
And free-from-reality.
But sometimes there are times
Unfocused from technology
That are just as much an escape from reality
Such as a walk in the park,
Biking along a mildly-breezy, clear-skied beach boardwalk,
Claiming front-row seats to a basketball game,
Or playing croquet, if that’s your forte.

Ingrid Bergman
Or Rod Carew
Even the old
Can rise anew!

long ago
and far away
lived a man
with much to say
if you don't know
let me explain...

he'd tell the time
so you're not late
and weather of
the coming rain
with calendar
he'd say the day

he'd tell the girls
that they look nice
and all the boy's
to watch their eyes
cross your "t's"
dot your "i's"

he'd tell you where
things you could find
over there
and look behind
if you don't care
then nevermind

brought before
the king and queen
who needed meaning
to everything
the sky of blue
the sea of green

explained it all
with all his might
well into
the late of night
wisdom and knowledge
he did recite

the king and queen
were both impressed
they made the man
an honored quest
much to much
to tell the rest

so long ago
suffice to say
far away
let me explain
lived a man
with much to say...

Ever had those dastardly homework problems
Where either the answers were in a far-out stratosphere
Or you just couldn’t summon a strategy
To go about the problem logically?
What if I  j u s t  t o o k  a  p e….
Hey!  No looking at the answers!
Whack! Goes the “ruler” scepter against studying surface.
What did I do?
What did you do?
I didn’t know what to do,
And no one was around to help me.
But I knew where the answers were,
And I was flipping toward the index of answers.
Okay, maybe the index doesn’t tell me how the answer makes sense,
But I need the answer(s)!
Or else I’m here all day,
Wondering when I will officially finish
The chronology of academic problems ordered in the exercise.
It’s not like I’m taking a test, right?
I mean, it’s studying.
Am I the only one that has ever peeked at answers
Or gone astray in the school day?
I just want to know…
I don’t want to sit here forever,
Because I will not stand for this.
I don’t already have the knowledge;
If I did, I wouldn’t be looking up the answer,
And I wouldn’t be fully human.
Please let me take a peek!
Promise I’ll understand! Promise!
For if I can’t peek at the answer,
It’ll be even more of a problem unsolvable!

If even the smallest hint of lust is a deadly sin,
Then I already have my foot in the grave.
There’s no turning back:
The notion of *** surrounds my reality
And caresses my mind,
Rules my dreams.

*** toys with my manly nature:
Foxy cheerleaders,
Gentlemen’s clubs,
Attractive college students,
Glitzy pop artists;
Lyrics of seductive songs about pleasing arousals.

When the word “***” rolls off the tongue,
I am left fidgety and weak.
The most interesting ****** account, I perceive,
Is Eve and the serpent,
Given a serpent isn’t necessarily human,
And Eve wasn’t portrayed as slithering.
*** and snake fit together because of this tale in Eden:
The serpent flirts with Eve, messing with her ****** response
To a certain seduction.
Ssssssss! Says the serpent.
[When people hold the “ess” in saying “***” as a snake,
My guard sags as if my body readies itself for ***.]
Imagine the serpent hissing at Eve,
Winding slowly about the trunk of the tree,
As though suffocating the knowledge in the forbidden tree.
Its eyes glued to Eve,
Her naked body giving in not to the serpent’s verbal abuse of ***,
But to making mouthy contact with the taboo, savory pome sensation.
The serpent may as well have also added, “Don’t worry…God won’t know about thisssss.”