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Socks to Relieve Pain Coflex® Interlaminar
“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
Stabilization Menard’s Dedicated
“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
To Service & Quality Leg Cramps at Night
“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
Brian Tracy International Bank
“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
Of America Merrill Edge Tyson
“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
Keep it Real Keep it Tyson Is This Sequence
“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
Correct? Luminosity Zenni Slide
“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
Belts American Red Cross Let Palmolive
“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
Handle the Mess Hole Leather Sandals Ad
“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
By Revcontent Newchic AOL Computer
“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
Checkup Try it Free Fisher Investment
“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
Socks to Relieve Pain Coflex® Interlaminar
“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
Stabilization Menard’s Dedicated
“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
To Service & Quality Leg Cramps at Night
“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
Brian Tracy International Bank
“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
Of America Merrill Edge Tyson
“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
Keep it Real Keep it Tyson Is This Sequence
“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
Correct? Luminosity Zenni Slide
“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
Belts American Red Cross Let Palmolive
“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
Handle the Mess Hole Leather Sandals Ad
“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
By Revcontent Newchic AOL Computer
“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
Checkup Try it Free Fisher Investment


“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
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Where were you when I was growing up?
You were in college getting A's while I was getting D's in science class in the 5th grade.
I remember asking if you wanted to draw with me and you never had the "time"
10 minutes out of your ******* busy day to spend with your CHILD.
yeah, I understand bringing food to the table is important and your brain wasn't fully developed until 25 but, where were you?
I loved that computer. Oh, AOL 5.0, talking to strangers, going into lesbian chats, looking at naked pictures of women.
I appreciated when you paid attention to me when I would wear the same underwear and pants weeks straight.
It was amazing that you noticed I never used to take my Ritalin and that I would hide it under my tongue and then stick it in a mug under my ****** twin bed.
I've had 8 cats during my lifetime?
Do you remember April that cat, that siamese cat, our 5 cats? What was up with having so many **** CATS?
I loved watching nickolodeon and nick at nite. Cat dog all day with 5 kittens in our lovely apartment.
LOVED having your now "husbands" nephew trying to have *** with me when I was like 11 and he was 18.
The moths were fun.....fancied smelling like moth ***** during school!
I loved taking baths only because we had no shower head. Filling up a plastic cup with water to be able to wash my hair was my favorite.
I loved when you threw a hair dryer at me.
Digging your stupid fake nails into my skin, not sure what I did "wrong" then but that was always the best treatment, CHILD.
My favorite was when you helped with my homework.
Loved when you threatened that you would "tie a rope around my neck" and that you hated me.
Loved eating raviolis and getting 2 chicken sandwiches from Mcdonalds. Oh, 4 mini burgers and fries from Whitecastle after going to Marshalls was my favorite.
That guy, that assyrian, iranian guy that owned Carvel and was 20 years older than you...I loved when he used to let me go outside alone the condos when I was 3.
Loved when he'd force me to where overalls and ugly clothes in elementary school.
Being forced to go to an Assyrian church every sunday was the best!

before i left seattle, and long before i made the mistake of returning,
i was babysitting a fish in a fishbowl,
for my brother's kids.

the water in the bowl was cloudy,
unclear, *****, because of the fish
so of course the fish died,
the bowl just sat on the counter after the fish died
but before my brother's kids came back from california

anyhow, moving back here was a mistake.
the cost of living here is ridiculous,
there is no room to be a middle class person here

only  a little kid who works at amazon
whose mom found him his job.

these little kids work for amazon,
their moms type out cover letters and resumes
so their kids can get jobs at amazon

i am looking for a new job because i can't afford to keep the job i have now,

the little kids who work for amazon have it pretty good though,
they can bring their dogs to work with them
they can jack up the rents, no problem

mom is always looking out for them like that

tonight i applied for a job at amazon
i typed in my first name to submit my application
"jeffbezosisacunt", i wrote a quick cover letter
telling them i was qualified for the job because
my mom didn't have to type out my cover letters for me
and because i had a dog that hadn't been trained yet
that i could take to work with me, then i attached a pdf file of a quick reference guide for aol 9.0 as my resume

it felt good
but not for long and not good enough

mark zuckerberg makes me sick too,
i can just see him running for president one day,
needing a good slapping
the little **** has never known any form of adversity
so he just keeps on being a little ****,
he has a lot in common with kim jong un

when i first moved back here, there were all these orange and white umbrellas every morning. those orange and white umbrellas had already taken over.

"In Modern Drama we turn a critical eye
   into the conditions of real life and morality." --- Arlen Rambush


           Modern Drama 101

Her life had become an Ibsen scenario,
cloaked, as it was, in furtive AOL chat rooms,
seeking the romance no longer orbed in marriage,
rather to be panned from the internet wellspring.

It wasn't so much inconstancy, as it was whimsy;
more a channeling of Deneuve, than profiling Gabler.
And she found they flocked to her,
pigeons to be shooed away, should they get too close.

Soul of the house, everything to husband and family,
yet, it was in cyber tryst where she flourished,
that informed the powerful intellect at intervals
with mother and a carte blanche ingénue.

It's possible she sought to reform them,
tear them down --- or no --- it was conquest.
It was not she that needed men,
it was she that absorbed them in hedonistic pleasure.

The coolest girls in the world put rings in the places where doctors disconnected them from their mothers. Guys put ink in their forearms. Spaces in their ears. Their parents say things like, “what the ****?” But even they know ink and plastic gaps are better expressions than dead Vietnamese and ****. Better expressions than a vote towards Michael Reagan’s father, the movie star.

You were the fools that bought homes, cars, and color tv’s on unprecedented credit, things for your daughters and sons that they would probably disparage if only they knew the word. You were the ******* that made Sam’s Club, because Costco and Wal-mart weren’t enough. The one’s that plugged us into free AOL accounts that Stater Brother’s gave you with your purchase of Pop Tarts and Cookie Crisps. I guess you could say the ink in our arms is yours as much as ours.

The thing about ink though, is that it’s more constant than anything this generation has ever known. When our TV’s become internet, and internet 4G, and 4G spaceships, the **** in our arms will persist as what was once alive. It will remind us of the life we lived before we were tattooed with the consumerism and media that you did nothing to stop.
  
Maybe you should have kept doing acid, you all were much more promising in the 60's.

The sky was already in mourning.
A dreadfully dreary day.
An emerald leaf crying outside of the window.  
The number on the clock had not—no would not—move. I was stuck at 4:52.
Time is a cruel master.
When you want it to go faster, it flows as fast as honey.
When you want to savor a moment,
to just slow down,
seconds become minutes,
minutes become hours,
hours become days.
But, now, time is stopped.

I hate the number 4.
It’s as though it decides to mock me the clock.
4:54.
I had been waiting for 4 months.
4 months of waiting,
listening to the clock slowly tick by
the weeks,
the days,
the hours,
the minutes.
Straining to hear the annoying,
monotone,
AOL voice to say “You’ve got mail.”
The one time I actually want to hear it, he stays silent.
A minutes flies by as I have a staring contest with the “Inbox” icon on the blue screen.

4:59.
As though it’s New Year’s Eve, I am counting down the seconds.
10, the numbers that were once were mere moments in time, suddenly became frozen hours of time.
9, the colon between the 4 and the 59 blinking in unison to an unheard beat.
8, rain drops beat against the window.
7, Are they crying for me already?
6, just breathe.
5, honestly? The last thing I can do is breathe.
4, that dreaded number again.
3, hand poised on the mouse, waiting.
2, moving it toward the little mailbox that holds my future.
1, finally...

well: wasn't it a most spectacular night...
if ancient Romans used to throw themselves
****-naked into nettles...
i don't know... a meditation on saving a drowning
wasp...
funny... i still remember Ilona: surname?
OSA-
            wasp in ****** speaking...
                        my god: she was so unattractive
when i was dating her: i was... let's say... thirsty...
and unlike Laura she gave up her swing
of **** so early on: promised me a trip to see
Metallica in Moscow: i thought i was going places...
i was...
   three piercings in her lips...
tattoos... but she did have mighty dreads prior
to me meeting her...
once i met her she looked like... cross between
a pineapple and a wet mongrel dog...
            no wonder i had trouble getting a *******...
it didn't even help trying to think about
Aria Giovanni... i had to think about Margaret
Thatcher... you have to... it's the opposite rule
of imagining you have something better than what
you have in front of you...
you have to think about something worse
than what you have in front of you...
i'm all out of confessions that might paint man
is a pretty picture...
i'm just listening to ol' lover boy Ed Sheeran...
i probably only like one of his songs...
Shivers... and the acoustic version with the loop peddle...
smart boy... he settled for a college sweetheart
or some **** like that...
for the tune i'm done with sickly-sweet lyrics...
but being the real lover-boy...
bitter? me? no... i'm not bitter: i'm just nostalgic:
nostalgia can appear to be bitter:
it is... cognitive selection is in place:
sort of like natural selection:
   perhaps due to the erosion from pedagogy
(a, b c, d, e f, g... 1 + 1 = 2) i can't remember
what i want... i can't... i remember what is important
or hardly...
i can't chose what i'd like to remember:
memory is water... a fickle creature...
but i guess if there's hypergamy there's
also: misogyny... misandry:
there must be a hyperandry - it's not a made up
world: poor boys hooking up with rich girls:
summer flings...
her father was a timber merchant from Novosibirsk,
she one spare apartment in the centre of
St. Petersburg... it's like that Jojo... Mojo?
that song: in the summertime...
about dating rich girls...
                                  i was a stop-over...
   well... no wonder that i went underground
and back onto a diet of prostitutes...
body-met-body and two bodies came out... as one...
i don't mean to burn dreams of other people
but i hardly dream so... it's nothing eating
the architecture of splinters in a forest...
of pines: can't tell apart a splinter from a pine
needle... like: for like...
woman's competition with man's sexuality...
mind you: i set up a "fake" Twitter account...
just for kicks... john pickwick... @ aol...
         hmm... this is very interesting...
i tried the classical route with the girl that tried
to get me fired... banana loaf... homemade wine...
i was going to bring a vinyl record to play
on her vinyl player: i "lost" a wooly hat i found
at a bus-stop once in her house...
i was so enthralled with her that i simply forgot it:
the sorting hat i called it: i hate Harry Potter...
two doors down...

  right... this trend on twitter... because most of these
women signed up in either August of this year
or July...
now? they're parading themselves on twitter...
there's: Camila @ CamilaMommy...
all of them... single mums... thirsty... single mums...
the: i love chatting and meeting new people
types...
MommyAdeline: lonely mature women (not my typo)
looking for new ****** adventures...

the website? urbestmeet.com...
THESE WOMEN ARE ONLY LOOKING FOR
CASUAL ****** ENCOUNTERS...
single mums and cheating wives...

spicydates.ga...
   Priscila...
well... thank **** i wasn't looking in the "right places":
this could work...
i mean... it might be cheaper than going
to your conventional brothel...
but more of a thought experiment:
these women are not looking for relationships...
no... of course they're not...

this is going to turn out ugly: if i attempt it...
cheating wives? single mums?
well... i've already slurped at the oyster of a *******'s
****... i wonder: how serious would these girls
be about not having relationships...
i'll have to wait: school's out... their children
are at home... i wonder...
of course i'm no electrician:
but i do know that you first have to check the fuse
in the plug of an appliance before you throw the hole
thing out... i like cooking i blah blah this
that and the other: give me a cigarette in a *******
and i'm suddenly swallowing a blue pill
for a hard-on...

   of course not! i'm not god's gift to women...
i'm just curious...
it almost feels like walking into a desert
with a glass of water...
i have a newly woken ambition:
to be more erotically brutal than Ovid:
let's face it... there are difference between the times
when he lived and when i live...
i'm just thinking of the children and what i could
steal...
two doors down there was this single mum...
she entertained about 5 suitors per year
if not more... her autistic boy used to bark
in the garden, started throwing ***** into my garden
as if implying: i want to play with you...
then... started beefing himself up
by... eh... i get the gym-bros... but this guy
was beefing himself up by walking up and down
the garden with... slabs...
yep: up and down, up and down...
he would either hold the slabs above his head
or in front of him... his next "best" uncle tried interacting
with him like a person might
interact with a dog he would simply abuse
by tightening the leash on the boy's neck...
it was perfectly beautiful to watch in the sunshine:
but on overcast days i felt miserable...

she had several spare uncles...
when she moved out and the girl from across the street
decided to hook up with a guy who works the
Docklands light-railway...
the same neighbours: mother: two daughters...
one day i was watching the Silence of the Lambs...
what did i see?
the three of them give me a freakish slideshow of
their ****... mummy exposed herself first...
then the two daughters walked into the room and
straight toward the window...
mein gott: some sanity... please!

anyways... this young couple bought the house
last year... or the year before that...
nice young couple: nice enough to sort of ignore
you when you say good-morning:
******* too...
                    they're still working on the house...
trying to make sense of what ****-show they bought...
well: if you buy a house that was once owned
by a single-mum... in England you're not expecting
cockroaches: that's for sure...
but the rest? they might finish come the coming
Christmas...

i know i'm a ****-up... that's why i drink whiskey
for the anaesthesia...
but even i, am, not, that ****** up...
i have limits...
oh no: no limits in terms of drinking:
i start i turn into a leech...
i'm sober i'm a judge... a ******* evalengelist!
but i start sniffing a bottle of whiskey?

last night... i felt the heat coming...
i thought: better go into the garden and fall to sleep...
what did i do?
saving that wasp from drowning created
a strange wind... i tangoed too short...
i was blown off my feet: and i didn't even
drink that much... the strange wind threw me
off my feet and into my dear fig tree...
i woke up: oh, i didn't drink that much...
i completely forgot about the fig tree...
i broke the poor girl in half...
i spent today taping her up...
two bamboo stalks inserted into the ground
to correct her "height" and "composure":

mind you? my apple tree... she's CWAZZY...
she-he produced so much apples... tasty...
ultra tasty... that she became a hunchback...
she-he produced so many apples that she broke up...
huh! ancient Romans throwing themselves
into nettle bushes while i save a wasp from
drowning and some strange wind throws me onto
my dear fig tree... ****'s sake:
more nights like that!

i'm thinking... i have never used a dating app...
what's on offer?
single mums and cheating wives...
wow... well: i was never fond of virgins to begin with...
you need to try the entire spectrum...
but i'm thinking: adultery:
but with prostitutes: i like "sloppy seconds"...
i have an "agenda": one of my front wheel's spokes snapped
when i left my bicycle in the sun for too long...
****: i have to take the bus...

i like sloppy seconds...
but i'm thinking... about the kids...
perhaps it's time to unleash the beast...
if women are vacating themselves so freely:
apparently the website they're using is not giving them
enough traction that they have resorted to exploring Twitter
and i never used that website...
well: cheaper for me:
i wonder who's the bigger sadist of the pair of us...
i wonder...
i think i'll tackle the challenge...
why? the website stresses: casual hook-ups...
yeah...
           women just casually hook up...
i'll try it when then school-season reopens...
i'll just test it to test the mantra...
     no attachment? no relationships?!
so... elevated stances of prostitution?
             cool cool... i'll figure that one out
pretty soon...
i'll see how long they can go for on the basis of ONLY ***...
i'd like to see...
before i arrive at the origami heart:
ori (folding)... paper (kami) heart (hāto)  
オリカミ  ハート
   ガ: a "rendaku" also exists in English...
    somewhere between theta and phi...
                          although: al-VOU(gh)...
ha! found it!
                      THE: V'eh point!
                  it's not: i THought not so... no?

English slobs and their ******* graffiti culinary
mishaps... i know this language in-and-out
and i'm going to play the Joker with it!
see my smile? i'm pretty sure you haven't missed it yet...
i too can play games...
hide-and-seek of language...
look at a letter long enough and then bark...
i'll chase down the echo in the cave that's
this universe...

Batman won't mind...
i'm bored of brothels... after that *******
i became bored...
after Khadija: Muhammad was
illiterate, wasn't he? so... he didn't write the Koran?
did he? who was literate in his life
when Mecca banished him to Medina?
his older wife... Khadija:
the smart woman with mathematical and letter
acumen: a woman wrote the Koran...

she had to... no one else would listen
to the ramblings of a madman...
i bet she's turning in her grave by now...
funny: i ****** a Turkish ******* by the same name...
maybe reincarnation than i previously thought:
perhaps i ****** Muhammad's ol' ball and chain
in the year 2022...
i very much wish i have...
i think a woman of her calibre would like
a literate man to be a sort of dog sleeping
by her bed while she slept in the bed:
like Ilona Osa- once slept in my bedroom...
i gave her the entire bed while i slept on the floor
and gave her my hand to cling to...

Ovid was right: erotica is warfare akin to espionage...
the Russians know what a honey trap is...
what am i using? what am i protecting?
i always remember to forget...
oh... right... i'd love for a 2nd schism in Islam...
spearheaded by the Turks...
why? "i" feel like it... the universe feels like it:
by now there have been so many schisms
in Christianity it makes no sense
in treating it like a monotheism:
it's a polytheistic joke... and a monotheistic joke too...
like i said: Jesus: being the lord of Mosquitos:
was the greatest troll Hell ever produced...
lord of mosquitos? wine not blood all of a sudden?!

i can see the flag! white... red... purple!
just like i can decipher the colours of the flag
of Ukraine: blue skies above...
and the yellow booming harvest of wheat below...
like i can see the colours speaking to me
in ******: white peace above (contradiction)...
fuelled by ****** fields of red of blood spilled
to achieve the white doves above...
Germany? black skies: red: blood forever spilled...
yellow? eh... German efficiency...
we can go on forever like this...

namely? i can, become... very ******* superstitious:
i can abandon all hope for reason
and for the study of science on a whim:
gladly: gladly...
i just... adore the plethora that doubt creates...
the plethora of emotions that doubt can
only create while the pinnacle of NEGATION
if can simply: eh... negate...
seeing how the applied modern jurisprudence
is predicated on a defence mechanism of:
negation, i.e. innocent until proven guilty...
ooh... i can have: SO MUCH... FUN with this!

and each time i'm being asked to find a cure...
cure for what? curation? it's like Hey-Susie
once stated: doctor! cure yourself!
i've found a "coping mechanisation":
sure, i drink... but i drink to pick a fight?
i drink to excesses not bound to man...
a litre of whiskey each night every night
for three weeks solid:
some poor ****** with "12 years of career-experience
as a steward" at public events gets obliterated
by my lack of "experience" and for that matter
qualifications... circa 6 months in and i'm
given command... of 15 people...
i'm not even boasting:
i'm running into fig trees: breaking them...
i'm chasing rats... figuring:
that's just a giant moth: it's not a bat...
NIETOPERZ...

my garden ein welt... and the moon:
one source of light i'd gladly take anywhere...
into a pool of my own drowning...
light i'd love to bring with me into a heart
of a woman...
i salvaged a wasp from drowning:
that terrible birth of a parasite...
hmm! born by the antithesis of birth
of mammals! it eats its way out
of the host... no wonder i was thrown into
the fig tree by a "misstep"...

i much preferred salvaging the last breaths
of the bee... stroking its furry back...
easing its death by squeezing out the honey
onto my palm and seeing it die from a sugar-overload...
that was nice to watch: a bee dying in my hand...

i'm thinking about this website...
these desperate women...
**** it... when the school season opens up...
i might try it...
if the women are so brazen about their sexuality:
why shouldn't i?
the beast has been woken...
oh... the beast has been awake for much longer
than that...
i just needed for a curiosity to build up...
i've given crumbs / rations to
the Roma paupers... for the "rose"...
yeah... now that's done...
                      and i feel no moral obligations...
yeah? what now?
i'll have my: ******* FEAST!
sniff... sniff...
            
                   i just need to remember the rejection
by Ilona... Osa-...
             living in England... but having no access to
English girls...
is so?! why make complaints?!
accept your fate!
           i need to seek our these single-mothers
selling themselves off as prostitutes
without the same curiosity /
technicality of prostitutes:
i imagine most of them being terrible *****...
not that i have to:
reality just dictates this regard as being true...

but i have to try...
for the thrill of being the terrible "uncle" for some
poor pooch that should have required much better...
but, knowing me... i'll probably walk-out with a limp-****...
no... there's no fun in harming animals
as there's no fun in harming children...
i can't even cross the line with insects!
sure: i sometimes mishandle bread...
or spaghetti... i either overcook it or undercook it...
but children?! freely availiable *** from desperate
mothers?

i'll try... i'll try my best...
but i'm already imitating the shifts where i...
precursor the "advent" with:
automated regurgitation...
i just puke up...
                  i invest in milk: i puke up...
               i like the feeling of puking up...
i eat very little... i combat my "irritable bowels syndrome"
with regurgitation...
i puke up more than i am able to **** out...
i sometimes regurgitate the water invested in
being drunk...

dearest Ilona: my parents are freaks:
how they managed to be so coupled is still beyond me...
but we could have worked something out...
i see you now like i might see the night
and my shadow contrasted by it back then:
when... ah! water under the bridge...

yeah... i need to look into this freely available
economy of ****...
it's not going to be as pretty as
the anaesthetic of a brothel...
children being involved...
                           i'll just tease at the idea:
just tease at the idea...
i'll probably not go through with it...
                i tried the classical route:
oh, we met at work...
he brought me homemade wine and a banana loaf
he baked himself...
while i tried to get him fired...
yeah: that sort of route...
                  
my heart? what, does, it feel, now?
oh... you know:
like i can listen to the Davy Jones' theme from
Pirates of the Caribbean for 0 hours on a loop
and not feel, bored...
because? this, is, who, i have, become!
a properly decent: realist!
life's cruel: get on with it...
be nice to animals!
people make life difficult to fellow people...
get on with it!
                i hear one more: ******* complaint
i'm shutting my empathy: down!

oh no... it's not about making demands...
i'm just a careless free-be...
harmless "bystander":
at work no one expects me to live a double life
of literary adventures...
i like it that way...
i write: ******* children's literature...
i don't frequent brothels i don't counter
******* prostitutes with seeking out
single-mothers willing to play the role
of Mantis in the ******-coliseum!
no! no no! of course not!

                            but i am: willing to tease
a little... see what's happening: hear what's happening...
feel what's happening...
i need wasps for that...
bees are not enough!
and then i need to "accidently" fall into and break
a fig tree!
hell! the idiot apple tree provided too many fruits!
she was bent over like a hunchback from
the excess of weight!
i had to relieve her by making an apple crumble
today!
either too many fruits: or none at all!
trees these days!
i might as well fill my garden with herbs and spices...
mint... rosemary... bay leaves...
i already have these... thyme... that too...
wild garlic...

i wanted to love: so badly...
so wrongly: so righteously...
to imitate my father's love for my mother...
to even imitate my grandfather's love for my grandmother's
shortcomings...
i wanted to love so madly and endearingly...
best i didn't... it would have left me with
nothing but my own shortcomings to mind...
now it's only a matter of:
where the Mantis / Wasp imitation of woman
wills to take me...

where little Calypso of the heart is willing
to scrunch my heart up and
feed the river her paper swan toward either flower
of river or the disfavouring gust of breeze...
i wonder... where will little Calypso
****** upon me:
yet another unfavourable twist of fate?!

D'Israeli's take on truth's stats, history, id est

It is I who leave the mark on this  trail
through ever upto now, you and I,
amble in minds, fetterless, no one to bump,
or breathe upon, or directly into,
no crowds on a concrete path
overlain with chewing gum
and skoal stains, and stubs of smokes
with no filters

-- ******* flash, smoking a Camel, with Joe, he sees this needle,
lying in the sun, and bends to see its point,
it is one of the latest in embroidering tools,
gold plated carbon steel, super sharp.
I see this by the rustlessness,
when my finger's tiny thing lifting edge

picks this sharp, single-eyed needle
from the hay left after the weeds
have been eaten,  hold it -look
through the eye of the needle, see

Joe blows the smoke from 'is Camel,
through the eye of my needle, and winks.}

so we must be, in time, circa
1970's version of the 1950's, emerging
in mind's exposed to ideas leaked
from academia, via TV.
--- here comes the pitch
Now pre posting in 2021, Atomic Rooster
Lee Michaels and the Moody Blues,
waddayagoddaloose  to use the mind blown

to filter sense from puffs of smoke
signaling each of us to grow on and pass,

as smoke that once made you cry,
but you don't remember why.

Hey, rich man,
We gotta show -
it's for kids, it causes them to groupthink
it puts the individual child in a we.
A safe global age appropriate wedom.
-- Yes, as Nickelodeon and Mickey Mouse club
-- and NRA VBS and Madrassah Basic Bomb Camp
-- hate apportioned on international stats
-- complied by Intel engineers, in their spare cycles.

Awe, shucks, it's easy. We act as if
life needs no sense,
senselessness is so simple six esses
yeses of x divided
into a subset after cable
another after AOL
then… events proceed through Netscape
to now. G5, and still alive, that’s some survival.
Or we can say re vival,
we return several instances
constanding point in terms of piercing
ancient eber's story told literally says

shaw maw yim, three sounds thought to mean

heaven, thought to mean a place,
attainable through a stacking of things,
as a safe place,
a hiding place, when we were two, me
and you, then the smallest we
in any history, she said, with a wink

come think of wisdom as a she,
and tell me of your trinity, from all you
know is so,
for some who say they/we read the right book,
told you so.
and unbelief of what's been told,
grave danger lieth thence
done seen it done,
excommunicative lock out of those
who, upon completion of proper
basic servant, general labor,
read, write sufficient to lead,
abacus or algorist skill enough
to measure tribute and pay.

Investment and contravallation,
sappers and miners,

take down the imagination exalting
itself against the knowledge of

the script, history has a script, see
they say they
know this story true, and so shall you

as we prebend your ear to hear it
as it is, we say, the world works this way,

we know, and you do not.
All children must be taught, tamed
broken, like a dog, or an ox, flummoxed

finally willing, by self-will alone, to be
in the we, a we we form on oaths,
sworn on the book.
yes, as we all are or must become
people of the book.

Well, look, there are said to be
several sorts of lies, using d'israeli approach to truth's oppostion:

Plain lies, ****** lies, and statistics.

That is my AI's favorite abacus joke,
but I don't get it.
--------- distraction asreal as imagined, at the time
Moody Blues:
Just what is happening to me
I lie awake with the sound of the sea
Calling to me
Old man, passing by
Tell me what you sing
Though your voice be faint
I am listening
Voices in the sky
Smoke blown through your why, life in after
all is strange as you may imagine, never dull.

Tree mend us sappy weird
human interest stories rarely appeared
back in the day online, whereas
    at present (the toasted,
digitally papered, and lacquered
drab heron nah owl pablum),
     not spared, but repeated,
     a bajillion times showcased

finds me clicking past beard
did and bared naked ladies
     (and/or men), paired
with nauseatingly, predictably,
     and repeatedly, those
     bland posts, veered
as popular cult
     chore, which someone

     deemed apropos as
     pulp yule har audience -
this main poetic thread spun
     repeatedly woven into infrared
weave as the warp and weave,
     (these vapid) re:hash tagged,
      intruded, interfered,
     and invaded celebrities,

     and/or ordinary folks privacy
     yawping (usually bacon
     stripped clean away
     with specific prime information
     such as dates, names, and
     times of tragicomic event),
     which dramatic mysteries,
     finds me laughably,

     insignificantly, and feebly scared
to the bones with suspense,
     at present, these
     days of our lives
     showering unthinking viewers
     (watching "FAKE" dark shadows
     from the edge of night
     as the world turns) with

     exposes (x pose hays),
     where particularly young kids
     get reared, nursed, and juiced
with whodunit crime
     (candle lee boxed and beribboned
     just in tim bur for the holidays)
     staid insipid blurbs get overly aired
at least on America Online,

this above contrasted and compared
to he/she whomever chaired
helm at formerly mentioned
     once upon a time (wonderful
     Internet Service Provider
     exceptionally renown -
     me own acronym
     WHISPER down the ally

     long ague mooch mo' CRISPR)
     cyber sea internet
     provider years ago,
     than many similar competing
     companies to access
     electronic details, cuz
     (I subscribed to AOL for
     many years), thence declared

tummy, (yours truly i.e. me)
     ranked as topnotch significant
     venerated news coverage geared
to concerned citizens such
     as this scribe, (many years ago),
     at present receive less high marks
     given so these days,
     despite decades long patronage

     (from this long gush haired
poor lee aging leaden
     pencil necked geek),
     who vaguely recalls
     greater in depth coverage
     concerning vital headlines
     well prepared on the homepage,
     which whomever (at that time)

     selected "stories" dared
to acknowledge a gamut of
     critical global events
     incorporating controversial
     themes paired
with lighter fare (for web surfers
     less interested in socio-
     political, national, environmental,

     et cetera coverage),
     said Internet Provider
     broadcast more roundly squared
information versus, the present

     eagle lit tarry rhea
     hen superficial twittering,
     which electronic webpage
designers believe more important.

This government are digging
their own graves
the main drawback is
that they're using teaspoons.

I'd like to see them
permanently housed in
an out of town
mausoleum

and mausoleum
is an anagram of
aol museum

***.

made sure mama recorded the new episode
of sailor moon every afternoon
my eighth grade euphoria got me through homework
love and justice were worth the wait
couldn't discuss my obsession of tuxedo mask
with my friends until school the next day
i had their numbers memorized but never dared call
unless it was about homework
even then i digested my heartbeat when their parents answered
the phone

in those days the popular girls would write lyrics
backstreet or nsync
battled over which was better by
displaying their fandom on the front covers of their
three-ring binders
while i took 3 hours on aol
waiting to download and print pictures
of apolo ohno and michelle kwan
and some pretty boy actor
whose name i don't remember

my friends wrote letters in a morning glory-like
journal we exchanged between us
once a week
the secrets of our heart
random roaming thoughts
current obsessions
eye candy crushes
in fifth period
whatever happened to that journal?
i think it's in a box under my bed

i took a snapshot of us
under the shade of our lunchtime tree
senior year of high school
the last time i used a camera to document
a single moment in time
before instant came into being
before selfies were a thing
and delay faded
a forgotten dream

You sat with your hands dangling over the stuffed leather booth
I sat across from you with a **** eating grin
We had a huge sundae in front of us loaded with extra cherries on top, just the way we like it.
Now you can find us sneaking extra cherries behind the bar to add to our whiskey sodas.
Drinking all of the whiskey down so quickly the cherries end up being futile.
Long handled spoons in hand we dip into the lactose filled shell and scoop large mouthfuls like shovels. We talk at the same time as we chew.
We are older now, but we still don't care about manners or laughing too loud or how we really want to get whiskeys instead of this belly ache of sweets.
We inhale our singular bowl and aren't shy about who gets the last bite.
We leave.

We are back in your sisters house and I'm sitting in the same part of the kitchen that I sat the night that I drank too much wine and threw up in her front yard.
Not much has changed except that her children are older.

Chloe isn't bouncing her creepy Dolly head from couch cushion to couch cushion in the living room.
And your dad isn't there with Nancy commenting about how old I am now.
And I'm not secretly wanting to throw punches at Nancy, but instead throwing back glasses of wine.

We still feel so connected in a way that I have never been able to put words to. I've tried in the thousands of cards and letters and sentimental moments. That is what is so difficult about feelings towards someone you love deeply. Words are so finite.
I decide I want to try with words anyways. I want to share with you how much you've meant to me all of these years.

Before setting my alarm and falling asleep to the sound of rain
I had been having an existential moment. Well, lots of them, since I found out I would become a mother.
Not only was I growing someone in my womb but I was deconstructing and rebuilding the one I had become.
Awake I couldn't stop thinking about all of the moments we had been through and how we survived them all. We still love each other through it all.
Awake I became aware that you were as close as I could get to having another sibling.
Not in a cliche "I love you like my sister type," but in an innocent wild green way.
We still had it.
That part of us that did not let the world rob us from our wild selves, our hunt for nature, our questions that we weren't afraid to explore together even if it made everyone else uncomfortable. Our sensitivity...heightened sensitivity to everything around us.

Back to my dream...

Somehow we weren't at your sister's house anymore. Now we were on the dock of your mom's house and I told you how much I had been going through.
How much I felt myself changing and that I had to let you know how much you meant to me.
How close in my heart you remained and will always remain.
I told you that you were the most influential person during my teenage years. I met you the year I found out that my father was struggling with addiction and had to go to rehab. I met you when I was the most alone in the world and the most confused. I had never had a friend like you.
I met you and you picked me up from my house in your green Honda when I had been AOL instant messaging my ex boyfriend and he told me I had rats nest as hair. I ran out to the driveway crying, after of course brushing the curls out of my hair. I was really sobbing about the fact that my father was in rehab and I wanted to disappear behind the crook of my closed bedroom door.
I met you when I was swallowed up with insecurity around what right thing was to wear and should I shave my legs once or twice a day.
You introduced me to Goodwill shirts and letting your hair grow as long as you **** well wanted.
We became close friends instantly.
Through our twenties we floundered in a lot of ways. With ****** men and divorces and affairs and despairingly drunken nights and moments we still needed to be chaperoned. Our innocence shifted.
We became aware of the world and how it really was.
Then we decided we wanted to do something about it.
The foundation of our paths have always aligned.
I told you that you offered me freedom and relief and that when you were having a hard time sometimes I couldn't be there in the ways that you needed and when I was having a hard time you couldn't be there in the ways that I needed but none of that mattered now.
None of it ever did.
Because our foundation was still there. Like the marrow in our bones.
I hugged you and told you that you are still that person to me. That you still show up for me in so many different ways, just by who you are as a person...not even what you do.
That here I am going through one of the biggest moments of my life and that it all seems like it is going to be okay, because you are still here. With me.
Your sister. Your mom. Connor and Chloe and Sig. The smell of eucalyptus. Your light beaded dangly earrings. Your square shaped fingers and toes. Your hairy legs. Your voice belting over Aretha. Lake Chelan. The way you make tea steaming up to our noses. How impossible you are to wake up in the morning. Armpit bangs. How we have held each other with words, with arms, with history, but mostly with acceptance and understanding.
I had been told by a client a few years ago that if you hug someone for over 20 seconds that your heart aligned.
What a pathalogical sentiment am I right?
ha
Anyways, in my dream we hugged and our hearts turned a bright yellow and glowed from our chests.
They left our rib cages and
Circled around my belly
She felt the warmth and knew
as she entered the world
She too wouldn't have to be alone.

And then I woke up.

Ya, the taste of ice cream on his lips
Ya, garlic mustard growing on the ridge
Ya, the good ideas on the fretboard
Ya, I hone the sound of thunder in my hand

Ya, Philadelphia
Ya, Rapunzel let down her hair
Ya, Dipper Riley Marko and Tucker
Ya, Texas

Ya, Pokémon
Ya, al kahul
Ya, Fall Out Boy
Ya, skinny jeans
Ya, asymmetrical hairdo

Ya, Kitty
Ya, Rock and Roll
Ya, the nature preserve
Ya, The Way She Moves

Ya, Mayday Parade
Ya, the Philadelphia Orchestra
Ya, Music Theory Classes
Ya, backpacking by yourself

Ya, Family
Ya, the Museum of Modern Art
Ya, Mount Hoback
Ya, Cimarron NM

Ya, The Wonder Years
Ya, Allen Ginsberg
Ya, The Moon
Ya, the Wissahickon Green Ribbon Trail

Ya, the mansion
Ya, Devil's Pool
Ya, Bloomsburg
Ya, Danville

Ya, Kangaroo
Ya, girlfriend
Ya, Australian licorice

Ya, Gameboy color
Ya, AOL Instant Messenger
Ya, The Killers
Ya, Santa Claus

Ya, Chipotle
Ya,