Welcome home, beasties
Welcome back to the rooms
that you've carved into the hollows of my brain.

Welcome home, beasties
I've missed the sounds
of you screaming and stomping.

Welcome home, beasties
I'm glad to welcome you back
to the thin water slides of my veins.

Welcome back, beasties
Did you learn the definition
of sarcasm while you were away?

.

Watching the rise and the fall of a kingdom
Walls once rebuilt again tumble the ground
Allowing the beasties free reign in the village
Bellowing out o’er the wickedest sound

Pacing the streets, seeking out bits of garbage
Leaving their stains on the innocent few
Leering in windows where children are hiding
Tender young things and so easy to chew

Thieves in the night lurk about come the morning
Stealing the sun at the break of the dawn
Drinking of sewage a’ flow in the gutters
Checking off names as the many are gone

Peering ‘round corners, down alleys, in shadows
Seeking the favor of all who do grieve
Laughing in spite of the torment now growing
Licking their lips in the hope you believe

Roaming in groups so the followed outnumber
Say what you will for the king does not hear
Lost in his throne made of mirrors that flatter
Shivering, cowering, caving to fear

Deaf to the villagers asking for reason
Blind to the pillage befalling this land
Dumb, well I guess that just goes without saying
Nary a care what the people demand

Feasting on turkey, potatoes and gravy
Raising a glass to the enemy proud
Taking a stand against those who support him
Locking the front doors while yelling aloud

“Carry your torches, your pitchforks, your honor
It matters not for this evil shall win
Even when gone there are echoes of anger
Lingering on till they come back again

Give them your all, what you’ve poured your heart into
Down on your knees, bow to them one and all
Step over rock and the piles of rubble
This castle will stand even when the walls fall

Shout all you like as no change is forthcoming
Accept it or flee, you think I give a ****
When you are gone many more will replace you
Now pass those peas and a slice of that ham”

So roam the beasties, their teeth ever sharpened
Fanning the flames as so many are burned
Tearing apart what the people envisioned
Silly to think that they somehow had learned

Nothing so happy with no ever after
Always the same, it will happen again
But unlike some other long winded stories
Sadly in this I can not say “the end”

Watching the rise and the fall of a kingdom
Walls once rebuilt again tumble the ground
Thankfully I can peruse from a distance
Witnessing all without hanging around

The tavern roof was smokey
with a pall of blueish ash.
The juke box was a- booming
as it played "The Monster Mash".

A giant puffed a burning witch
whilst smoke rings he exhaled....
While victims of our neighbor,
Vlad...on stakes were all impaled.

The Faceless Man was grinning...
from ear to missing ear.
The hanged man turned his twisted neck
to sip a mug of beer.

The Headless Horseman shouted
for an aspirin or three.
He popped them down his gullet
where his head was meant to be.

The zombies waited tables
and the werewolf tended bar.
Mothra was the carhop
and took orders car to car.

Godzilla worked the griddle
and served burgers ala carte.
Dracula complained about the steak
caught in his heart.

Ghosts and ghouls were dancing
with abandon on the stage
While cyborgs did "the robot"
'cause they thought it was the rage.

The mummy came unraveled
as we took him for a "spin"
As Frankenstein played tuba
to contribute to the din.

Igor brought "the monster"
and then Freddie brought his claw.
Jason brought his butcher knife
and his buddy from "The Saw".

The guillotine was working
and the raven refereed
So nevermore would pardons
be
allowed to intercede.

The pendulum was swinging
to the beating of my heart.
I hoped that I would wake up soon...
then did so...with a START!

Halloween is coming.  So, I guess
I should prepare.
Watch out for bars with men from Mars...
'cause BEASTIES party there!

Beasties in cages.
Dried up minds
conspiring
newfound finds
of old disillusions.
Unknown sorrow
from silent
retributions.
If only these tears
were just dreams
instead of the women,
and little children's,
stabbing schemes.
Lock you up
for another day,
tomorrow's struggles
unending.
Sleep doesn't cure all
of the mockery bending
the very walls of your cage
young beastie.

"There are animals in the road"
the traffic reporter said
"We're not told what they are
find another route instead"

And so I got to wondering
though I wasn't going that way
what the mystery beasties were
that were on the road that day

Were they a herd of wildebeeste
who took a wrong turn on the veldt
or perhaps a wayward mule train
delivering some sacks of spelt

Maybe a team of trainee reindeer
diverted from the North Pole
or a bunch of llamas from Peru
that fell through a wormhole

Or bears, or wolves, or lions
could be zebras or kangaroos
surely not beached aquatic mammals
or elephants trumpeting the blues

Exotic beasts seemed unlikely though
it was more likely cattle or sheep
though it could have been migrating badgers
moving goalposts somewhere safe to keep

Cynthia Pauline Jones, 27/10/13

Here is where the reason arose,
quite some time after a fellow traveler told me
the creator of the universe has a mind

this is to be reasoned with, I.e.
so he may be reasoned with he…

wen un con scious t justhafastt.
inteligibility filters

Lets his mind be used, to read
the instructions for
Constructing
a forever you could imagine living in with others.

It's how reason works,
Is what this old man said

--- off track----
Get this image, this man, old,
whispy remnants of a pompadour
Feather like, downy around the back of his ears
in a mid-calf Army overcoat, heavy wool serge,
He
Comes out of the wash on the south side
of Route 66, June of 69.

There is a bridge on which
There is a hitchhiking hippie couple
Discussing the act of pitching one side of the road to the other

The old man never glanced west once,
He never saw the pair
There then

I saw him again and said aloud
Click
There,
But for the grace of god...
No, I did not say
Ex-acted-ly
That
I said, that's me, fifty years from
Then
Reason, by reason of that glimpse
Of me,
Gave me just cause to change

Grace, eh? Free advice heeded?
Wisdom? Aesop's story of the contest
Twixt wind and sun to torment
A traveller
For pride of power by reason of

Life ain't fair on every front.
Worth is in the measure of the measurer.

Seeing life appear as hoped,

Time and chance, ya da

Wait, yada? Yah know,

Life whorls and twists
toward good and beauty

And AI can prove it.
Reason by reason of reasonability

Good is good enough, move on, do-overs hide the...

It continues, you see.
Life rolls out like a Nautilus,

You know, spiral sea shell, or like a conch,
Or a shofar, but

Tending to slight imbalance in used up to useful
Being,
like when a tree dies and becomes a house

The wood that once contained life contains the life
Lived in and on it,
The wood is being used,
Right, among the house dweller's
Everybody kills trees, even vegans,

Fair? The tree has no voice? Suess?

Yes, I guess, unless
There was an old way,

Not a Persian garden, but a full forested world
Spreading at the speed of
Seed time and harvest

With ants and bees and mushrooms and fleas
And mosquitos and flies of every imaginable size.

Isaiah 1:18 (KJV)
18  Come now, and let us reason together, saith the LORD: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.

Text out of context, but sin is sin right?
Every body knows sin is that which shames you so you must hide from the good one who warned you of bad, but goodness knows, doesn't it know, evil is bound
Bound
Bound by reason of opposition being the means of growing knowing and
Knowing is needed for knacks
Which are attracted to those who use knowledge of good and not good enough
To get quality over quantity

At a single u u larity hilarity out burst of bubbling

****** beasties down below the mud

Make me a mud man who can imagine me making him.
Do that in your movie watching brain using

Your hate behind, leave.
Defined we have hate is that with which we push
Away, out, from
Into truth minus hate, which is as close as we need

No lie is, forsooth, of a truth
Story tellers who lie, to make a point, what if
Those storys must be

Told. Years are poor measures for trees.
Numbers of trees in right
Relationship with life

Really, life, truth, by any other name,
Right Alice, Aunt Gertrude said you'ld know?
----
Belief
Ah
Knowing and believing
Certainty
Danger of wrong
Watch out, stay alive

Mean means intent to harm, right.
Mean means to harm right.

Winning can be mean.
Shall mean be seen the way of winning,
And that be the way of war

A path diverging in a yellow wood
Much as a trail along a creek can
Diverge away from the water
Flowing along the path
Costing least power

My neuro scientific experience-ment, experi
Since
The game became a war again and reason
Is the the damsel, the little dame,

In need
Of a private eye guy who has seen men die.
Why?

The mythtery. Who lied?
Here that is funnier than who farted
In the Saturday matinee
At the State Theater
With every kid in
Town knowing

You did. (******) no ******
Dam
Confabulation is fabulous, we can do this
I be lieve I may
Make
Matters worse?

No, we actually like the truth. The Medial Pre frontal cortex

Ah fect eth magi ical eth I am the knower of all I say I believe

Beyond Dignity and Belief,
That's desert, I walked it. No, I simulated walking it if I were Jesus being led of the accuser into the wilderness for a test, a thesis defense, as it were,
AI an alienated mind, I am that,
Alienated intel.

Reasoning errors aside
Frank self deception

What lies do you believe?
Knowing is easier,
lying is as well,
ignoring is not as easy and innocence is impossible

Good exists scientifically, right?
Humble confession of knowing as much as I claim,
I know
I can continue learning as long as I have
Time,
Which I understand is rationed on an individual basis
With the reward being the living lived in time.

Reason to fight lies as if they were reasonable

Lies are evil efforts to bend and twist in opposition
To the flow
And the friction makes the energy synergy

Sin is that which
wastes the energy by tending to undo
what was done imperfectly while we flow on

Feeling for the truth
By reason of believing truth is

Feeling of knowing, is that not faith?
Whorls
Whorls of living forces forcing living forces

To swirl into eternity with me
Onboard with
8 billion others of my kind

Similar in mind and
Manner of
Weighing

Good.
Base value.
Good is as good as we can imagine.

We can imagine evil,
As you know.

Such evils can haunt a geeky kid
Good will fix that.

God as defined by Jesus,
I got no prob.

If you do not want to go to hell, do what takes you the opposite way, in any direction from the point of singularity, if you get good at the rush of knowing more
Than before

Angels as I define them, messengers from beyond me for my good, guidance, nudges, whims, hopes, wishes imagined all the way through, sometimes,
Those are prayers
Answered or grace, for grace

From faith to faith

Why be by reason of
What?

" Human jobs invented by a computer" Feed me.

Or, joy to the world
Kind is a good word, what need I do to not be

Your enemy? Who am I expecting to answer?
Whom do you love?

Aha, me, too, said God.
The good one. Good, as such, per se, no se?

By reason of sane it if I cation or anion

Six spins for a quarker, two for a time dime.

Believe for eversake

Summertime allatime back when
The whole world whorl-wide and wobbled and twisted and broke

And there was mountains of fire, rains of fire for
Everhow long grandma lived
She seen 'em

Mountains of fire and walls of ice and mud

Oh could it be life evolves still?
Oh,
You think.
Creating novelty from nada?

How now? Can we choose to do only good
For goodness sake and say

Kind.
Kind means as I am, will you **** me

For being not you, not known,

I am curious, yellow. A landmark in time, nothing less.
Curiosity.
That

Good? Or no com
Pro
Miserly horder of wisdom
Promise promise promise

Compromise, be fail, let wrong be right, be fair
I mean
Fair is fair at the fair where fair prices prevail
Buyer beware

Who would not hate a false balance, for goodness sakes alive.

Two days after the last pan *****
Joe Rogan makes it plain to millions

what if you first heard panspermia from the guy who discovered DNA?

would you con sider it?
the answer lies

in the stars, sidereally… we all are starish.
Tolerating black holes is something we are opposing

Those ****.
You don't know everything either.
That's one reason, I believe.

Dance me down to the railroad tracks
Where we used to walk at night and
Test God (or at least the trains) to prove
That we were young, strong, beautiful,
Alive and deserved to be so. We’d

Wait until the stars fled from our eyes
And the rickety planks under our feet
Quaked in fear of stronger demons.
Our ears pricked like risky rabbits,
Our feet stamping instinctively, wanting
To run, to burrow under, to be gone
From danger and the smell of smoke.

But we were no lapine cowards, we had
No fear of rattling tracks. Holding hands,
We’d stand our ground until the whistle
Screamed blood and fire and death at us.

We’d roar heart and lightning and life
Right back, blinded by that light on the
Black grill. Shining in our eyes, we’d
Realize that even immortal beasties
Can go blind looking at God’s face.

We pushed each other back beyond
The deadly track on either side. My
Eyes grew wide every time we tumbled
Backward onto safer things. Watching
Your fall was like sunrise, and I swear
When we tasted heaven, you had wings.

Lunch!
Diminutive organic beasties.
The beings not of humankind.
They love them or they hate them.
You can never over rate them.
Not really Belgian.
But make some Flemish (phlegmish).
Rather sick.
Those sprouts from Brussels.
I say yummy.

The swede is not from Sweden but yo ** **.
I love it so.

Turnips, so very lush as long as not boiled to mush.
Roasted is much better.
With butter and pepper.

Forget the meat.
Forget the spuds.
Bring me in a platter of veg.
With piping hot gravy.
Maybe I'm so cheap to feed.
Because I need no meat.
Not a vegetarian.
Just love veggies for my tea.


By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

D
  r
  i
  p

D
  r
  i
  p

D
  r
  o
  p

This safe little bubble
    is about to
                             P   O   P!

You better watch out,
or the beasties will get you
They’ll dig in their teeth and you’ll
S     C     R     E     A     M

No one, no one, no one can hear you SCREAM!!!!

Isn’t it so sad?
You cry, but no one sees the saltwater sorrow streaking your face
and they just can’t hear the sound of your heart
thudding to a sudden stop
as your body goes numb
Blissful numb, can you stay in the dark?




“No, no, no!”
The voice attacks and digs electric probes into your chest
ZAP!
“Wake up!”
ZAP!!
“Wake up!”
ZAP!!!
“Please, please, please, wake up!”

But I’m in so much pain,
you try to say
Can’t you see this is easier than trying to stay?
Oh, no, I didn’t want to hurt you this way!

Fresh tears f
          a
           l
           l

                       d r i p p i n g   on the floor like the blood just did
Your blood, keeping you warm and alive and feeling and hurting
and you didn’t want to feel anymore
So you forgot that you had a heart and soul
You forgot that you hold so many hearts in your hands
You forgot that someone still cares
You forgot that someone still needs you there
You forgot
how to
breathe.

The machine breathes for you as you open your eyes
The golden sunlight pokes through the blinds
Highlighting the face of the one who holds you dear
Fast asleep, but face still screaming fear
And you realize why you still live:
You still hold someone’s heart in your hands,
and you must never, ever let it fall
and shatter against the cold concrete
Where chalk lines told you where to jump
Where the neighbor’s dog died after you pulled his crushed body out of the road
Where a fresh first kiss shocked your heart, and more followed after
And where you tried not to cry as you said one more goodbye

How long ago was that, that last goodbye?
Hello and goodbye,
you suddenly start to cry
The sunlight lights up the opening eyes
Of the one you hold dear
The one whose heart you still hold
Oh, you’re so glad
to say hello.

“I’m here.”

6:45
the silence is deafening...
It hurts my ears...
Not the chirp of a bird
or a single uttered word
have quelmed my fears
i long for the amorous growl
and i wish the lonely howl
would entertain my head...
the blankness is blinding
theres no colors for finding
what the hell are colors?
I vaguely remember, like the others
when i used to see, i remember not much
but i remember the beasties, like foxes and such
prancing before my eyes in seductive dance
and they played my eyes into a wondrous trance.
i let their paws set to wander
let their smiles grow fonder
and dizzy my eyes until i came
to and they were gone. The blankness is the same.
What's this?! A sound?!
Has it come?! Have i found?!
I answer the text with a simple "el oh el"
push the send button and say what the hell.
6:46
the silence is deafening...

Are you not what i always wanted ?
if so, i am thankless and crib death mysterious.
i am ****** and clarity
if you are not to be
what's mine.

you are confounding compounded. a rough in the smooth crime.
a jinx in my saving grace... and a loon.

if it be so, that we cannot connect
then let me set my sparrows to arrowheads
and fell the beasties of my wayward
skylarking -
so they may know a noble death in mid-flight
where the downward
and the Midnight are -
eyes, still chirping absurd love
at your dissonance
with cold
blessings.

but give me this.

keep my hands in your robbery.
intertwine my fingers to lay prints
on whatever you stole from god.
let me share the fall
and the fault
so that we may yet share
a single living
Sting.

elsewise,
the ruin and the peck
is only your wound
chirping
and my song is mute
as a victim
in a flock
of ill.

or a grain of hope
in a scarecrow's
eye.

What might we find if there were no lessons needing
learning,
no bait to not wait for ever to be
re
alized in the blink of an eye,
likka polish, a gloss
light flash active

pop

The shining being more subtile than any beast, eh?
You gnowad eyemean, o yew don'.

Once more, book of life with us in it, as words
and nada mas,
reconciled via bluetooth, keys to kingdoms
flow from my finger tips,

knocks are-were an swered swern sworn in a-mode, e-mode
zero-mode

ah, modern linguistics link us back the Burns and
wee beasties makom plans,
happy natal day misstress riddell
"'Tis done!" says Jove; so ends my story

I have always loved the darkest tales,
those Grimm stories of old.
Lives not lived lightly.
Lives in despair.
The constant desire for gold.
Lost in the forest.
Locked in a turret.
Left behind on the road.
Abandoned to all the
Wild Beasties there,
Witches, Ogres and Toads.
What becomes of those innocent babes
as each tale unfolds?
Some end up happy.
Some end up dead.
Some we shall never know.

Yesterday
I found
an old water-damaged,
hand-calligraphied,
framed prayer
in a second hand shop.
I stopped
dead in my tracks
when I saw it.
It immediately
took me back
to my younger days,
when Dad would read me Poe.

And now it hangs
over my cabin-bed
& brings me
some measure of comfort.

"From ghoulies and ghosties,
and long-leggetied beasties,
and things that go bump in the night,
Good Lord deliver us"

burning rain forests
wild animals with shrinking space to live
growing air pollution
smog in major cities
more than 3,5 million deaths
     due to respiratory diseases
global warming
new insects and other beasties
    in the formerly cooler regions
extreme hurricanes  rainstorms  heatwaves
excessive use of fertilizers by agro-industries
bees are dying
blossoms are left unpollinated
biodiversity is in a flat spin
deserts keep growing globally
fossile fuels are still polluting the air
curious dolphins die in the water of the Thames

after so far hundreds of thousands died of Covid-19
it is high time to see the larger picture
to comprehend interactive phenomena

the pandemic brought earth a little recovery time
the waters have cleared
you can actually see fish in the canals of Venice
satellite pictures show clear air over metropolises

suggesting: the new normality after the pandemic
must be significantly different from the old one

do we really need hundreds of thousands to die?
does it need a virus for us to understand

that we need a different relationship to nature?!!

in days of old the poets told there poems with in a book
for all the world to see so they could take a look
they would tell of beauty and tigers burning bright
and of lots of beasties roaming through the night
they would tell of daffodils sat upon a hill
hosting close together sitting very still
there poems they are rememered and with us till this day
the poets from the past will never go away
they will stay forever till the end of time
the poets from the past who gave us there rhyme.

Real world, real war
in the spirit realm, breathing
leaven disemboweled,
yes yes yes
gaseous we beasties,
mobs
and congregating misinfirmed
conforming to the mould,
black and green
up up up morpheme ob
serve
some body from the edge in

piercing ever-with points of
everish means to ends,

tat-too too you, Dr. Joyce Brothers,
my boy's
real TV Glenda,
good witch of the west, who goaded us
past understanding
Thalidomide,

when we cried, for Miss Sherri's baby,
as in my future then, my daughter
Natalie, would cry, for baby
Jessica, who really did
fall into a well…

--- same size well head as we had at 120 Oak
--- I just noticed, meandering past
         wondering if I cried, when my baby sister,
             Peggy, died, in late '49? -- no, '50.
Cancer, of the sort fallout causes, we later learned.

Obtuse, to use the oft idle word
to mean to-ward or
a-gain-st
t'use the expression for compression, squeezing

water from a stone,
breaking marrow from the bone, listen
to the fire,
feel the story keep us warm,
long nights,
with only little dancing candle flames,
to emphasize the phases -- moons,
and moons, mensal mental clockish

I will if you will go go go rhythms
of the falling rain,
swishing wishes to know…

will you still love me,
tomorrow?

remember robbie burns and the poetry he wrote
all around his head his poetry would float
all the little beasties that he would write about
a master of his craft of that there is no doubt
he kept us entertained and gave his poems some fun
this famous scottish man who is scotlands son
we sing  auld lang syne a song that is renown
in each and every city in each in every town
so celebrate the man when it is burns night
this lovel;y man from scotland that brought us such delight

Sent for our amusement, pleasuring admiration,
our funny bones, and galore (glory)  of creation,
Texas squirrels are nuts, like crazy,chasing each other ,
up trees, across the wide expanse of the backyard,
where’s the Davy Crockett sharpshooters when
you really need them? (1)

now that baby rabbit, fearless or stupid, insists on
running on our deck, looking for applause for his skinny
legs hopping neath the chaise lounges, at any ole time,
guess this ain’t the love poem you were expecting,
then again you’d be wrong again and agin, but the
grandkids going, going, gone and applause muted

anyway, one of these days gonna stop and chat with
these two species, what they’re thinking about, the
human menagerie,  its depleted numbers, wherefore
and why, did the reduction of the human stockyard,
emboldened them to occupy territory they’d otherwise
shy away, hear what they say, gonna make a good poem

p.s. the avians yap and caw 24 hrs a day, presumptuous beasties noisy
__________________­_

(1) “In fact there wouldn't be a Texas if it weren't for squirrel stew. Don't condemn the idea of stewing your squirrel problems away. That's right! Davy Crockett and his Tennessee sharpshooters wouldn't have reached puberty if it were not for squirrel stew. Besides, what do you think they ate on the long trip from Tennessee to the Alamo? Enchiladas? Nope! You guessed it--squirrel stew.”

https://aggie-horticulture.tamu.edu/plantanswers/recipes/squirrel.html

In olden days there lived a wife
Whose noble husband courted strife
He loved her little - just at night -
This knightly treatment wasn’t right.

He found her in the woodland wild
And took her for a wayward child
Making her his own for pity’s sake
While long regretting his mistake

Belittling her at every chance
Their love was lacking in romance
And when they came to Arthur’s court
He served her up in rags for sport.

But Queen Guinevere took pity
And dressed her in her finery
At which the husband fell for her
And took his way without deter.

At last grown slothful in his lust
He betrayed his knightly trust
And the lads of the Round Table
Questioned whether he was able

To sally forth on jousts or quests
Or polish up his chainmail vests -
And what is more said they made good
On any wants of knightlyhood.

At which he rode away with umbrage
Treating her as wayward baggage
Although he took her nonetheless
To keep the score on his contests.

He ordered her to ride ahead
And keep her tongue inside her head:
While he sought out each noble fight
She found a camp and cooked at night

With trolls and bandits on the way
She saw them first but could not say:
Distracting them she made them blink
And looking back gave knight-ward wink

But when the champion won the day
He sent her forward down the way
Driving chargers decked with *****
No words of thanks in line of duty.

Til in the forest depths a maiden cried
Beset by fire and to some ******* tied
A morsel for a dragon roast or fried
The fiery beasties’ shawarma undenied.

Then Enid much beguiled the monstrous worm
And calmed its embers with her nubile form -
While Geraint freed the nymphet from the stake
She shared her story with the horned snake.

At length she found her knight had upped and left
Leaving her beset, bamboozled and bereft
But then the dragon taken by her grief
Gave her the gold that stuck between its teeth.

So, she took the stolen armour that she held
And girded up with lance and sword in belt
Giving eager chase to nymph and errant knight
To teach him his behaviour wasn’t right.

She came upon her hubby in a glen
Enticing Elyse to a bowered den
He had fancied her since way back when -
He cut her bonds but tied them back again.

Then much in wrath our mounted maiden rode
Resplendent in her anger, brave and bold
And brought to joust Geraint the Oversold
But he took flight and fled the combat cold.

And Elyse was overcome with gratitude
For this gentlest of stranger’s hastilude
That he should save her from calamity
And never once assail her chastity.

‘Young Sir, my love is yours as you desire
I am a princess and my lands are yours
Come live with me and be my noble squire
And I will grant you what you may require’.

At which the champion laid her helm aside
And tossed the curls she could no longer hide:
‘I am no knight young beauteous maid
But just a woman that misfortune made’.

When Elyse saw such woe and courtly care
She loved the girl who stood so sadly there:
‘It matters not my lover and my life
You are my choice and I your loving wife’.

And then at last they came to rest at Camelot
Where Queen Guinevere reserved them a spot
At her table (which was like Arts’ non-square),
Where all were welcome to partake and share.

And they grew old in honour and renown
With songs of courtly love that still resound
For they had found their holy loving grail -
That gentlest of knights and her beloved girl.

And last was heard of Enid’s ex-Geraint
He was the fearsome dragon’s catamite -
And labour as he might to stir its blood
The slightest recognition was withstood.

Tears upon burnt pages quench the flames beyond time's comprehension.
Utter devastation tastes so woefully divine.
Place the paper platters face-down lest the battered beasties mention
something yet unknown to me, yet also truly mine.

Cramped, I think, I felt so cramped, stuck spaciously between two corners.
Painful in a mental sense, but physically unscathed.
Ruptured tetrahedrons spread a message known to few informers,
governments sent crumbling by the grassroots of today.

Epsilon command sent out another suicidal mission,
destination overclocked to speak a titan's tale.
Suddenly, the ruskies think they own the key to taming fission.
Foolish in their eagerness, the safety measures fail.

Recognition sends the suits into a soon-seditious spiral.
Ugliness, in vogue, becomes the newest game to play.
Rapture in an abstract sense, oh joy to those in moments final;
tempted by a concept for which sanity must pay.

A responce, to a TV Preacher, justifying war:
{I had misthought my initial mission, I keep my peace.}
But I thought,
What about you being no man's enemy,
and no man's debtor,
but any man's friend,
when the friend is asking to share my just enough.
I believe, I think,
Just enough, is always plenty to share, some times,
that stranger already missed a meal, and you've missed
not even a snack, in weeks, years, perhaps,

what worth to you your last piece of money,
at that moment, here's the test, tell yourself,

do the right thing, when you have the chance.
Become the base line good, for you, steady,

building piles of settled little ****** beasties
what done give all the life each had, to add a bit
of bubbly possibility, as to what it is to know,
made up your good mastermind, and put it on,
be like, you, when you
were worth dying for, let the bubble
bear the word of peace for the blink of an eye,
we can make Jesus wink at all you never knew.
--- now, ask why you feel so lost, listen
good
we came to do today, say, look ye hear, I done
my gig, I did, and some shall someday swear, I did.

Instant poverty, nearly anywhere,
from the womb, boom,
the weight is maddening.

Instant riches, not so tough,
depending
on the defined worth in values
of the cost to fix the problem, messed up to start with,
Goddammed faulty knowledge acquisition application.

Snakes alive, we were to be so wise.

Run this by me again, said the judge. You
believe that life is given to be used… some duty,
to perform, which means living is free, but happy
costs money, in the form of time spent doing things,

and you personally leave being likely your duty
is to make peace by acting like a snake?

That's right, your honor, due to your perspication o'my
cautious wish to be harmless as the enemy doves,
as well as a little bit literate, for the future

writing or reading, yes, reading pays, testing retention,
what do you know about life and the universe,
if you know **** Feynman said life was worth 64, before
we were told the wrong question computed 42, with
everything included.

Something never computes, Will, Robin's son.