FIRST DAY

1.
Who wanted me
to go to Chicago
on January 6th?
I did!

The night before,
20 below zero
Fahrenheit
with the wind chill;
as the blizzard of 99
lay in mountains
of blackening snow.

I packed two coats,
two suits,
three sweaters,
multiple sets of long johns
and heavy white socks
for a two-day stay.

I left from Newark.
**** the denseness,
it confounds!

The 2nd City to whom?
2nd ain’t bad.
It’s pretty good.
If you consider
Peking and Prague,
Tokyo and Togo,
Manchester and Moscow,
Port Au Prince and Paris,
Athens and Amsterdam,
Buenos Aries and Johannesburg;
that’s pretty good.

What’s going on here today?
It’s friggin frozen.
To the bone!

But Chi Town is still cool.
Buddy Guy’s is open.
Bartenders mixing drinks,
cabbies jamming on their breaks,
honey dew waitresses serving sugar,
buildings swerving,
fire tongued preachers are preaching
and the farmers are measuring the moon.

The lake,
unlike Ontario
is in the midst of freezing.
Bones of ice
threaten to gel
into a solid mass
over the expanse
of the Michigan Lake.
If this keeps up,
you can walk
clear to Toronto
on a silver carpet.

Along the shore
the ice is permanent.
It’s the first big frost
of winter
after a long
Indian Summer.

Thank God
I caught a cab.
Outside I hear
The Hawk
nippin hard.
It’ll get your ear,
finger or toe.
Bite you on the nose too
if you ain’t careful.

Thank God,
I’m not walking
the Wabash tonight;
but if you do cover up,
wear layers.

Chicago,
could this be
Sandburg’s City?

I’m overwhelmed
and this is my tenth time here.

It’s almost better,
sometimes it is better,
a lot of times it is better
and denser then New York.

Ask any Bull’s fan.
I’m a Knickerbocker.
Yes Nueva York,
a city that has placed last
in the standings
for many years.
Except the last two.
Yanks are # 1!

But Chicago
is a dynasty,
as big as
Sammy Sosa’s heart,
rich and wide
as Michael Jordan’s grin.

Middle of a country,
center of a continent,
smack dab in the mean
of a hemisphere,
vortex to a world,
Chicago!

Kansas City,
Nashville,
St. Louis,
Detroit,
Cleveland,
Pittsburgh,
Denver,
New Orleans,
Dallas,
Cairo,
Singapore,
Auckland,
Baghdad,
Mexico City
and Montreal
salute her.



2.
Cities,
A collection of vanities?
Engineered complex utilitarianism?
The need for community a social necessity?
Ego one with the mass?
Civilization’s latest *******?
Chicago is more then that.

Jefferson’s yeoman farmer
is long gone
but this capitol
of the Great Plains
is still democratic.

The citizen’s of this city
would vote daily,
if they could.

Chicago,
Sandburg’s Chicago,
Could it be?

The namesake river
segments the city,
canals of commerce,
all perpendicular,
is rife throughout,
still guiding barges
to the Mississippi
and St. Laurence.

Now also
tourist attractions
for a cafe society.

Chicago is really jazzy,
swanky clubs,
big steaks,
juices and drinks.

You get the best
coffee from Seattle
and the finest teas
from China.

Great restaurants
serve liquid jazz
al la carte.

Jazz Jazz Jazz
All they serve is Jazz
Rock me steady
Keep the beat
Keep it flowin
Feel the heat!

Jazz Jazz Jazz
All they is, is Jazz
Fast cars will take ya
To the show
Round bout midnight
Where’d the time go?

Flows into the Mississippi,
the mother of America’s rivers,
an empires aorta.

Great Lakes wonder of water.
Niagara Falls
still her heart gushes forth.

Buffalo connected to this holy heart.
Finger Lakes and Adirondacks
are part of this watershed,
all the way down to the
Delaware and Chesapeake.

Sandburg’s Chicago?
Oh my my,
the wonder of him.
Who captured the imagination
of the wonders of rivers.

Down stream other holy cities
from the Mississippi delta
all mapped by him.

Its mouth our Dixie Trumpet
guarded by righteous Cajun brethren.

Midwest?
Midwest from where?
It’s north of Caracas and Los Angeles,
east of Fairbanks,
west of Dublin
and south of not much.

Him,
who spoke of honest men
and loving women.
Working men and mothers
bearing citizens to build a nation.
The New World’s
precocious adolescent
caught in a stream
of endless and exciting change,
much pain and sacrifice,
dedication and loss,
pride and tribulations.

From him we know
all the people’s faces.
All their stories are told.
Never defeating the
idea of Chicago.

Sandburg had the courage to say
what was in the heart of the people, who:

Defeated the Indians,
Mapped the terrain,
Aided slavers,
Fought a terrible civil war,
Hoisted the barges,
Grew the food,
Whacked the wheat,
Sang the songs,
Fought many wars of conquest,
Cleared the land,
Erected the bridges,
Trapped the game,
Netted the fish,
Mined the coal,
Forged the steel,
Laid the tracks,
Fired the tenders,
Cut the stone,
Mixed the mortar,
Plumbed the line,
And laid the bricks
Of this nation of cities!

Pardon the Marlboro Man shtick.
It’s a poor expostulation of
crass commercial symbolism.

Like I said, I’m a
Devil Fan from Jersey
and Madison Avenue
has done its work on me.

It’s a strange alchemy
that changes
a proud Nation of Blackhawks
into a merchandising bonanza
of hometown hockey shirts,
making the native seem alien,
and the interloper at home chillin out,
warming his feet atop a block of ice,
guzzling Old Style
with clicker in hand.

Give him his beer
and other diversions.
If he bowls with his buddy’s
on Tuesday night
I hope he bowls
a perfect game.

He’s earned it.
He works hard.
Hard work and faith
built this city.

And it’s not just the faith
that fills the cities
thousand churches,
temples and
mosques on the Sabbath.

3.
There is faith in everything in Chicago!

An alcoholic broker named Bill
lives the Twelve Steps
to banish fear and loathing
for one more day.
Bill believes in sobriety.

A tug captain named Moe
waits for the spring thaw
so he can get the barges up to Duluth.
Moe believes in the seasons.

A farmer named Tom
hopes he has reaped the last
of many bitter harvests.
Tom believes in a new start.

A homeless man named Earl
wills himself a cot and a hot
at the local shelter.
Earl believes in deliverance.

A Pullman porter
named George
works overtime
to get his first born
through medical school.
George believes in opportunity.

A folk singer named Woody
sings about his
countrymen inheritance
and implores them to take it.
Woody believes in people.

A Wobbly named Joe
organizes fellow steelworkers
to fight for a workers paradise
here on earth.
Joe believes in ideals.

A bookkeeper named Edith
is certain she’ll see the Cubs
win the World Series
in her lifetime.
Edith believes in miracles.

An electrician named ****
saves money
to bring his family over from Gdansk.
**** believes in America.

A banker named Leah
knows Ditka will return
and lead the Bears
to another Super Bowl.
Leah believes in nostalgia.

A cantor named Samuel
prays for another 20 years
so he can properly train
his Temple’s replacement.

Samuel believes in tradition.
A high school girl named Sally
refuses to get an abortion.
She knows she carries
something special within her.
Sally believes in life.

A city worker named Mazie
ceaselessly prays
for her incarcerated son
doing 10 years at Cook.
Mazie believes in redemption.

A jazzer named Bix
helps to invent a new art form
out of the mist.
Bix believes in creativity.

An architect named Frank
restores the Rookery.
Frank believes in space.

A soldier named Ike
fights wars for democracy.
Ike believes in peace.

A Rabbi named Jesse
sermonizes on Moses.
Jesse believes in liberation.

Somewhere in Chicago
a kid still believes in Shoeless Joe.
The kid believes in
the integrity of the game.

An Imam named Louis
is busy building a nation
within a nation.
Louis believes in
self-determination.

A teacher named Heidi
gives all she has to her students.
She has great expectations for them all.
Heidi believes in the future.

4.
Does Chicago have a future?

This city,
full of cowboys
and wildcatters
is predicated
on a future!

Bang, bang
Shoot em up
Stake the claim
It’s your terrain
Drill the hole
Strike it rich
Top it off
You’re the boss
Take a chance
Watch it wane
Try again
Heavenly gains

Chicago
city of futures
is a Holy Mecca
to all day traders.

Their skin is gray,
hair disheveled,
loud ties and
funny coats,
thumb through
slips of paper
held by nail
chewed hands.
Selling promises
with no derivative value
for out of the money calls
and in the money puts.
Strike is not a labor action
in this city of unionists,
but a speculators mark,
a capitalist wish,
a hedgers bet,
a public debt
and a farmers
fair return.

Indexes for everything.
Quantitative models
that could burst a kazoo.

You know the measure
of everything in Chicago.
But is it truly objective?
Have mathematics banished
subjective intentions,
routing it in fair practice
of market efficiencies,
a kind of scientific absolution?

I heard that there
is a dispute brewing
over the amount of snowfall
that fell on the 1st.

The mayor’s office,
using the official city ruler
measured 22”
of snow on the ground.

The National Weather Service
says it cannot detect more
then 17” of snow.

The mayor thinks
he’ll catch less heat
for the trains that don’t run
the buses that don’t arrive
and the schools that stand empty
with the addition of 5”.

The analysts say
it’s all about capturing liquidity.

Liquidity,
can you place a great lake
into an eyedropper?

Its 20 below
and all liquid things
are solid masses
or a gooey viscosity at best.

Water is frozen everywhere.
But Chi town is still liquid,
flowing faster
then the digital blips
flashing on the walls
of the CBOT.

Dreams
are never frozen in Chicago.
The exchanges trade
without missing a beat.

Trading wet dreams,
the crystallized vapor
of an IPO
pledging a billion points
of Internet access
or raiding the public treasuries
of a central bank’s
huge stores of gold
with currency swaps.

Using the tools
of butterfly spreads
and candlesticks
to achieve the goal.

Short the Russell
or buy the Dow,
go long the
CAC and DAX.
Are you trading in euro’s?
You better be
or soon will.
I know
you’re Chicago,
you’ll trade anything.
WEBS,
Spiders,
and Leaps
are traded here,
along with sweet crude,
North Sea Brent,
plywood and T-Bill futures;
and most importantly
the commodities,
the loam
that formed this city
of broad shoulders.

What about our wheat?
Still whacking and
breadbasket to the world.

Oil,
an important fossil fuel
denominated in
good ole greenbacks.

Porkbellies,
not just hogwash
on the Wabash,
but bacon, eggs
and flapjacks
are on the menu
of every diner in Jersey
as the “All American.”

Cotton,
our contribution
to the Golden Triangle,
once the global currency
used to enrich a
gentlemen class
of cultured
southern slavers,
now Tommy Hilfiger’s
preferred fabric.

I think he sends it
to Bangkok where
child slaves
spin it into
gold lame'.

Sorghum,
I think its hardy.

Soybeans,
the new age substitute
for hamburger
goes great with tofu lasagna.

Corn,
ADM creates ethanol,
they want us to drive cleaner cars.

Cattle,
once driven into this city’s
bloodhouses for slaughter,
now ground into
a billion Big Macs
every year.

When does a seed
become a commodity?
When does a commodity
become a future?
When does a future expire?

You can find the answers
to these questions in Chicago
and find a fortune in a hole in the floor.

Look down into the pits.
Hear the screams of anguish
and profitable delights.

Frenzied men
swarming like a mass
of epileptic ants
atop the worlds largest sugar cube
auger the worlds free markets.

The scene is
more chaotic then
100 Haymarket Square Riots
multiplied by 100
1968 Democratic Conventions.

Amidst inverted anthills,
they scurry forth and to
in distinguished
black and red coats.

Fighting each other
as counterparties
to a life and death transaction.

This is an efficient market
that crosses the globe.

Oil from the Sultan of Brunei,
Yen from the land of Hitachi,
Long Bonds from the Fed,
nickel from Quebec,
platinum and palladium
from Siberia,
FTSE’s from London
and crewel cane from Havana
circle these pits.

Tijuana,
Shanghai
and Istanbul's
best traders
are only half as good
as the average trader in Chicago.

Chicago,
this hog butcher to the world,
specializes in packaging and distribution.

Men in blood soaked smocks,
still count the heads
entering the gates of the city.

Their handiwork
is sent out on barges
and rail lines as frozen packages
of futures
waiting for delivery
to an anonymous counterparty
half a world away.

This nation’s hub
has grown into the
premier purveyor
to the world;
along all the rivers,
highways,
railways
and estuaries
it’s tentacles reach.

5.
Sandburg’s Chicago,
is a city of the world’s people.

Many striver rows compose
its many neighborhoods.

Nordic stoicism,
Eastern European orthodoxy
and Afro-American
calypso vibrations
are three of many cords
strumming the strings
of Chicago.

Sandburg’s Chicago,
if you wrote forever
you would only scratch its surface.

People wait for trains
to enter the city from O’Hare.
Frozen tears
lock their eyes
onto distant skyscrapers,
solid chunks
of snot blocks their nose
and green icicles of slime
crust mustaches.
They fight to breathe.

Sandburg’s Chicago
is The Land of Lincoln,
Savior of the Union,
protector of the Republic.
Sent armies
of sons and daughters,
barges, boxcars,
gunboats, foodstuffs,
cannon and shot
to raze the south
and stamp out succession.

Old Abe’s biography
are still unknown volumes to me.
I must see and read the great words.
You can never learn enough;
but I’ve been to Washington
and seen the man’s memorial.
The Free World’s 8th wonder,
guarded by General Grant,
who still keeps an eye on Richmond
and a hand on his sword.

Through this American winter
Abe ponders.
The vista he surveys is dire and tragic.

Our sitting President
impeached
for lying about a *******.

Party partisans
in the senate are sworn and seated.
Our Chief Justice,
adorned with golden bars
will adjudicate the proceedings.
It is the perfect counterpoint
to an ageless Abe thinking
with malice toward none
and charity towards all,
will heal the wounds
of the nation.

Abe our granite angel,
Chicago goes on,
The Union is strong!


SECOND DAY

1.
Out my window
the sun has risen.

According to
the local forecast
its minus 9
going up to
6 today.

The lake,
a golden pillow of clouds
is frozen in time.

I marvel
at the ancients ones
resourcefulness
and how
they mastered
these extreme elements.

Past, present and future
has no meaning
in the Citadel
of the Prairie today.

I set my watch
to Central Standard Time.

Stepping into
the hotel lobby
the concierge
with oil smooth hair,
perfect tie
and English lilt
impeccably asks,
“Do you know where you are going Sir?
Can I give you a map?”

He hands me one of Chicago.
I see he recently had his nails done.
He paints a green line
along Whacker Drive and says,
“turn on Jackson, LaSalle, Wabash or Madison
and you’ll get to where you want to go.”
A walk of 14 or 15 blocks from Streeterville-
(I start at The Chicago White House.
They call it that because Hillary Rodham
stays here when she’s in town.
Its’ also alleged that Stedman
eats his breakfast here
but Opra
has never been seen
on the premises.
I wonder how I gained entry
into this place of elite’s?)
-down into the center of The Loop.

Stepping out of the hotel,
The Doorman
sporting the epaulets of a colonel
on his corporate winter coat
and furry Cossack hat
swaddling his round black face
accosts me.

The skin of his face
is flaking from
the subzero windburn.

He asks me
with a gapped toothy grin,
“Can I get you a cab?”
“No I think I’ll walk,” I answer.
“Good woolen hat,
thick gloves you should be alright.”
He winks and lets me pass.

I step outside.
The Windy City
flings stabbing cold spears
flying on wings of 30-mph gusts.
My outside hardens.
I can feel the freeze
deepen
into my internalness.
I can’t be sure
but inside
my heart still feels warm.
For how long
I cannot say.

I commence
my walk
among the spires
of this great city,
the vertical leaps
that anchor the great lake,
holding its place
against the historic
frigid assault.

The buildings’ sway,
modulating to the blows
of natures wicked blasts.

It’s a hard imposition
on a city and its people.

The gloves,
skullcap,
long underwear,
sweater,
jacket
and overcoat
not enough
to keep the cold
from penetrating
the person.

Like discerning
the layers of this city,
even many layers,
still not enough
to understand
the depth of meaning
of the heart
of this heartland city.

Sandburg knew the city well.
Set amidst groves of suburbs
that extend outward in every direction.
Concentric circles
surround the city.
After the burbs come farms,
Great Plains, and mountains.
Appalachians and Rockies
are but mere molehills
in the city’s back yard.
It’s terra firma
stops only at the sea.
Pt. Barrow to the Horn,
many capes extended.

On the periphery
its appendages,
its extremities,
its outward extremes.
All connected by the idea,
blown by the incessant wind
of this great nation.
The Windy City’s message
is sent to the world’s four corners.
It is a message of power.
English the worlds
common language
is spoken here,
along with Ebonics,
Espanol,
Mandarin,
Czech,
Russian,
Korean,
Arabic,
Hindi­,
German,
French,
electronics,
steel,
cars,
cartoons,
rap,
sports­,
movies,
capital,
wheat
and more.

Always more.
Much much more
in Chicago.

2.
Sandburg
spoke all the dialects.

He heard them all,
he understood
with great precision
to the finest tolerances
of a lathe workers micrometer.

Sandburg understood
what it meant to laugh
and be happy.

He understood
the working mans day,
the learned treatises
of university chairs,
the endless tomes
of the city’s
great libraries,
the lost languages
of the ancient ones,
the secret codes
of abstract art,
the impact of architecture,
the street dialects and idioms
of everymans expression of life.

All fighting for life,
trying to build a life,
a new life
in this modern world.

Walking across
the Michigan Avenue Bridge
I see the Wrigley Building
is neatly carved,
catty cornered on the plaza.

I wonder if Old Man Wrigley
watched his barges
loaded with spearmint
and double-mint
move out onto the lake
from one of those Gothic windows
perched high above the street.

Would he open a window
and shout to the men below
to quit slaking and work harder
or would he
between the snapping sound
he made with his mouth
full of his chewing gum
offer them tickets
to a ballgame at Wrigley Field
that afternoon?

Would the men below
be able to understand
the man communing
from such a great height?

I listen to a man
and woman conversing.
They are one step behind me
as we meander along Wacker Drive.

"You are in Chicago now.”
The man states with profundity.
“If I let you go
you will soon find your level
in this city.
Do you know what I mean?”

No I don’t.
I think to myself.
What level are you I wonder?
Are you perched atop
the transmission spire
of the Hancock Tower?

I wouldn’t think so
or your ears would melt
from the windburn.

I’m thinking.
Is she a kept woman?
She is majestically clothed
in fur hat and coat.
In animal pelts
not trapped like her,
but slaughtered
from farms
I’m sure.

What level
is he speaking of?

Many levels
are evident in this city;
many layers of cobbled stone,
Pennsylvania iron,
Hoosier Granite
and vertical drops.

I wonder
if I detect
condensation
in his voice?

What is
his intention?
Is it a warning
of a broken affair?
A pending pink slip?
Advise to an addict
refusing to adhere
to a recovery regimen?

What is his level anyway?
Is he so high and mighty,
Higher and mightier
then this great city
which we are all a part of,
which we all helped to build,
which we all need
in order to keep this nation
the thriving democratic
empire it is?

This seditious talk!

3.
The Loop’s El
still courses through
the main thoroughfares of the city.

People are transported
above the din of the street,
looking down
on the common pedestrians
like me.

Super CEO’s
populating the upper floors
of Romanesque,
Greek Revivalist,
New Bauhaus,
Art Deco
and Post Nouveau
Neo-Modern
Avant-Garde towers
are too far up
to see me
shivering on the street.

The cars, busses,
trains and trucks
are all covered
with the film
of rock salt.

Salt covers
my bootless feet
and smudges
my cloths as well.

The salt,
the primal element
of the earth
covers everything
in Chicago.

It is the true level
of this city.

The layer
beneath
all layers,
on which
everything
rests,
is built,
grows,
thrives
then dies.
To be
returned again
to the lower
layers
where it can
take root
again
and grow
out onto
the great plains.

Splashing
the nation,
anointing
its people
with its
blessing.

A blessing,
Chicago?

All rivers
come here.

All things
found its way here
through the canals
and back bays
of the world’s
greatest lakes.

All roads,
rails and
air routes
begin and
end here.

Mrs. O’Leary’s cow
got a *** rap.
It did not start the fire,
we did.

We lit the torch
that flamed
the city to cinders.
From a pile of ash
Chicago rose again.

Forever Chicago!
Forever the lamp
that burns bright
on a Great Lake’s
western shore!

Chicago
the beacon
sends the
message to the world
with its windy blasts,
on chugging barges,
clapping trains,
flying tandems,
T1 circuits
and roaring jets.

Sandburg knew
a Chicago
I will never know.

He knew
the rhythm of life
the people walked to.
The tools they used,
the dreams they dreamed
the songs they sang,
the things they built,
the things they loved,
the pains that hurt,
the motives that grew,
the actions that destroyed
the prayers they prayed,
the food they ate
their moments of death.

Sandburg knew
the layers of the city
to the depths
and windy heights
I cannot fathom.

The Blues
came to this city,
on the wing
of a chirping bird,
on the taps
of a rickety train,
on the blast
of an angry sax
rushing on the wind,
on the Westend blitz
of Pop's brash coronet,
on the tink of
a twinkling piano
on a paddle-wheel boat
and on the strings
of a lonely man’s guitar.

Walk into the clubs,
tenements,
row houses,
speakeasies
and you’ll hear the Blues
whispered like
a quiet prayer.

Tidewater Blues
from Virginia,
Delta Blues
from the lower
Mississippi,
Boogie Woogie
from Appalachia,
Texas Blues
from some Lone Star,
Big Band Blues
from Kansas City,
Blues from
Beal Street,
Jelly Roll’s Blues
from the Latin Quarter.

Hell even Chicago
got its own brand
of Blues.

Its all here.
It ended up here
and was sent away
on the winds of westerly blows
to the ear of an eager world
on strong jet streams
of simple melodies
and hard truths.

A broad
shouldered woman,
a single mother stands
on the street
with three crying babes.
Their cloths
are covered
in salt.
She pleads
for a break,
praying
for a new start.
Poor and
under-clothed
against the torrent
of frigid weather
she begs for help.
Her blond hair
and ****** features
suggests her
Scandinavian heritage.
I wonder if
she is related to Sandburg
as I walk past
her on the street.
Her feet
are bleeding
through her
canvass sneakers.
Her babes mouths
are zipped shut
with frozen drivel
and mucous.

The Blues live
on in Chicago.

The Blues
will forever live in her.
As I turn the corner
to walk the Miracle Mile
I see her engulfed
in a funnel cloud of salt,
snow and bits
of white paper,
swirling around her
and her children
in an angry
unforgiving
maelstrom.

The family
begins to
dissolve
like a snail
sprinkled with salt;
and a mother
and her children
just disappear
into the pavement
at the corner
of Dearborn,
in Chicago.

Music:

Robert Johnson
Sweet Home Chicago


jbm
Chicago
1/7/99

He was blown>>>>
>>>> away_--- from
my lace-up
Is She his blue
Mood tie set any bet
to walk the talk

At your own pace
The lustful wake up she
got the face

The edge of his rim sneaker
So prim who is proper
On the brim of ecstasy
He puts sugar on my tongue

Rumors like the "Talking Heads"
All in the bedding sneaker
Jane of the jungle wild tongue
She races Tarzan swinging sneakers
You and I tripped over dreams the sneaker?
Lip to lip disaster

The "Cyberwar" stepped on melting
Gold *** of tar
The loud blaster she moves the
Starwars so far

He could eat her up
his checkered black and white flag
Like a lobster claw his last draw

The racer mouth sponsor

She was born 2-B that way
sneakers love 3 some run
It's not unusual to have fun
with anyone
Her hands were far gone but
solid as a rock
Rollicking flying his rocket
Racing by her own clock Ms. Hornet


His sneaker loud love feud one
the detail on her sneaker
the wild bird of a bud

He shook me all night long
don't do an
A-C-D-C  on me
The sneaker he got the
Crazy eights
 No prank calls
Her hot buns and
Speaker- Frank-flirters
take me out to the
ball game demonized

The Anti Christ be born again
My sneaker group what a tank full
The Antitank no thanks
You cant always get what you want
and if you try sometimes
Charge all plastic but
sneakers like rubber soul

Visa hot runner Lisa no control
The American Express abdominal press
Shop until she drop's gum-drops
Your head was like a
Rolling Stone Jagger
Bigfoot sneaker Friday 13 size
That girl sweet pea Lea surprise
In the Hell, kitchen she snapped
That purr nightcap like Cleopatra

He's the Mantra so passionate fruit loopier
She's the Mona Lisa unfriendly sneaker
Your happy socks are quick
On his bell-hop feet
The sneaker riddle beat


That long meeting so *******
For time baby blue eyes Frank
on the mic
Like the jitterbug tight-knit
as sneaker print rug
Citron sharp eyes 5 Karat
Spicy hot Chili pepper
poem sonnet

The singer swung
Jazzy sneaker band
Dr. Who wears sneakers drinking
Dr. Pepper

The "Red Apple McIntosh" computer
Such a loud mouth hacker Josh
Jeweled Judy cultured pearls sneaker smash

Or her Stairmaster her
sneaker hotties ruffles have ridges
The juicy burgers dill pickles

Desperately sneaking Susan
sneakers to her affair finish line 
What a Lady Madonna
baby sneakers
at her breast rebel of hearts
I wonder how she manages to
sneaker speed the rest

Her best to out twin any talk
bullseye power walk
Buying the triplex sneaker
The loud talker 4 for 4 fame Wendy
Run like a fugitive your alias
name
Go International quite run
for your money I suppose
His sneakers up on her recliner
It wasn't her better rose
She's the high boot lady ever finer

On E-Bay selling your favorite sneakers
Those Australian Huskies biting sneakers
Such a Paws up against doggone heartbreaker

The in-crowd Flynn or another runner Lynn
Everybody is not a star or wedding crasher
Or even the right sneaker lover

Lady that lives in her homeless shoes
Are we all inside a video game
all commercials

Needing bifocals video begins
 Wynn at Sneaker Con
Joy to the world of the joystick
The sneaker of the Torah prayers of
the Temple
All dots and specs out of sneakers
More zits and pimples
I just want one-half cream
The changing Moon 1/2 Wolf
My man (Mr. Drakar) Howling toenail

French onion soup say cheese
her sneaker what a
no-brainer lightheaded breeze
You come so far sneaker trainer
And a grave site plot famous
brand sneaker
name

A million odds to one name in the
cemetery
****** Mary she flies in her
sneaker like Mary Poppins
Going under the influence
Heres looking at you kid umbrella

Hot Hollywood Taurus Bulldog
runner
We really don't have a name

We are writers and ****
good fighters single to mingle sneaker
Not the homewrecker more like the homemakers
Even sneaker has a voice and walks like singers
Shoeiverse sneaker race
became her living curse
The grin of the Grinch green sneakers
On his sled ride the lucky shamrock

I'm the happy heel
The tigress furry feel skip to my Lou
he ordered the
kids happy meal

Getting a ticket for reckless walking
Lights on or eyes wide shut
Are sneakers running for their life?

More fuel- time we get no alone time
Let's go shopping for the
new sneaker called
(Valentine only) sold one
day the sale
Singing her sneaker song a chip
device to talk back hot male
The 'Calvin Klein" dockers her ball of the foot
tennis sneakers It's her loud Owl ******-hoot

The farm girl Ralph Lauren corral
To rope her in lasso-like with morals
racing horse of different color fashion
I cannot hear you I have a hell
of a tinnitus reaction

  She-Devil bickering.>>> No heart like a sneaker
I am a snake too short to run the mile

I was too busy looking
at her long legs
On the Jet** Plane
The most popular lady
in her sneakers 

Viper car and strings attachments
Ms. Love lace the shoelaces
with hearts
She is tied to his ankles
like condiments
Like Sweet cherries what a
bomb kicker sneaker
The Southern Belle runner
Be the stunner the trucker roadrunner

Hail to Mary the sneaker
Queen of Sheba
Turn on the radio Country singer Reba
What a sneaker rating ratio

When she bent down the crisscross
Watch out cross my heart trainer

Cross my heart and hope to die
To get slimmer
I am the happy sneaker
all the moods hot goods
(Hey Robin Hood)
stealing a rich man and poor women
which is the witch

One string said pull me the
other one said you feel like a
Chrome lead sleepy feet go to bed

Like Beer and pretzels
What an insane sneaker hazard
Hospital beepers sneaker virus
stepped on the most expensive
Venus, I beg you to run
lips we travel bullets and stars
We just want some fun

Marathon key just one clicker
That strawberry shortcake
Versus the "Cherry Bomb"
The Prince and the Pauper
what a toad kisser
That army tanker hurry up
lunch or brunch
What a Patriot Brady bunch

My shoelaces became like a
firecracker candy bar crunch

Who is the loser lover
or the winner
The long trip almost at the end
of the race
What a rivalry those shot glasses
at random
The sneaker fandom

Smile to me if you're not
wearing anything
but sneakers
My wings the wifi cute feet just
say Hi

No, I saw a man 600 pounds
of Reebok gold way too
much belly roll fat
The Dr. Seuss cat in the hat

Nike in the air Robin
bird skydivers
Dark matter gold diggers
Movie (It) Stephen King
skateboard

Penny feet relaxer
The Wise clown got her
The sneakers comedians
Seinfeld stand up sneaker
To be dead or wed Kleinfeld
Exotic sneakers and
cars he made a home run
Hot hell ring my bell
You made me happy
I got to first base

And you all sync into
one of a kind sneaker
Mom Robin the singer
No, I saw a man-eating
out of his sneaker
His head up in the Nike air
Oh! all hell breaks footloose
computer looking
up the sneaker sales

All I am doing is clicking
with a mouse
Where is my lover
sneaker twin, my spouse

E Enter In Out EIO
E-IE-I-O  the O- the outcome
Playing some Banjo giggly
Words are getting wiggly
Like everlasting Jello
The Old/ New Heaven?Hell

Meet the best
transformation
Absolutely
It's in our duty
Takes effort modern-times
Instagram pictures of Mcdonald
Don't bend yourself
out of shape over hot buns
Hunters bite of the hamburger
Amazing shapes of the Planet
to enter

Don't live like the pretender
Your the pilot absolutely laughing
to the end of the wing
Catching fresh air telling some dirt
Not everything is a
*Pink champagne Riot
EIEIO Airplane he raised this pilot
Blue sky absolutely
looking too hard
People are starting to look strange
B-S Be Sweet I know what
you thought words get rearranged
What bull one boy to
have a coke with a smoke with
Is this the way it should be
Bye Bye Birdie Ann Margarita
Is this what life is about

He salutes to  my absolutely
knock out dress
Inside of his head, he's
looking mighty fine
Drinking Absolute *****
When its truly mine
Silk ties or Paisley Ties
Crazy love absolutely
Time traveler talker
Who is your caretaker
The burden to carry on
Girls want to have fun
Homemaker proud baker
Be on time yes absolutely
After I know what
happen before
One day I will find out
what this is all about
All ones or against none
Mr. Sexter in the City
The forever not to marry one

She's the absolute solitaire player
He's the homebody head ringer
Cut face band-aid
The band's and singers
Newsstands Jazz step swingers

American Bandstand
The time is hand full  such corruption
No freedom what happen for the
*Love of God Kingdom

Absolute insane asylum of maids
Absolutely I agree its hard
enough for one
E for entering I- I Phone OH!
Out of your mind
Get out I absolutely don't
need you in
the best time of my life
Chose your words wisely
Absolutely solemnly swear
Something is not
Kosher my Dear
We love to carry on
Not to carry someone over the
threshold do what you're told
Get up sleepy head you will
be late for school

Old Mcdonald EIEIO
E Exception I want that
E-Everything I Immaculate
O- Out of money
What *******
He's banging his drumsticks
You're the Oz good witch
Making more room with
your broomstick
She is absolutely the
spitting image of
her "Mom Mega babe'
clicker

So many Odd Moms
On speed racing for time
Coffee moms Business Moms
She is absolutely the prettiest
Mom I came across
Absolutely rarely do you see
Hollywood Housewife acting
like Moms
Her skirt got the heat like
A-Absolute what a cute "City Cat"
meeting the cat________??
"From Hell ringing the Liberty Bell"
A haystack don't turn your back
You absolutely got into his heat

Rekindled by the barn cat
How dogs and cats may
be disobedient
But we love them for
who they are
Even if they look
like their masters  
We are born like that
The artist absolutely
Graphically lined
Of the absolutely cool
deviant defined
She had lines of a lifetime
in her pleats
He didn't make his bed
wrinkled sheets
French bulldog has
more manners
Then his master
Hey Buster

Board signs on your body
But we all have to
make a living
So it's fading like an
Antique Queen malevolent
jewels
Too bright hurting
my eyes shining
Do you trust her or him
Expectations are getting slim
Losing time your gold trim
The double-breasted dress you
hear a Robin bird symphony
You're the absolute epiphany
Going and tumbling back to
be single eating a triple
decker sandwich
Hey Mate?
Absolute Divine Date*

She is absolutely beyond herself
Never known a love to
be absolutely right
Were human or our beliefs fire out
Evidentially taking a flight
Make it the best fight you ever had
Writing an article we hours
of the morning smile and
tell the world
What you need to say
is as real as your heart will ever feel
We learn from the best the
spiritual journey
here's to a healthy meal
The Newsweek more moments
to remember absolutely our best times
TheBird's eyeabsolutely so precisely
the eye for E-I-E-I let's catch up to O
Any mystery making history
Jane Eyre  
Life leads us on the "Empty
"Sad Doorway"
Make it a "Jumpy Glad on a Clear Day"
It's absolutely lovely to see forever
  Moreover, the rainbow don't worry

Make it heavenly birds
Absolutely our time is precious
have it your way
Absolute genius the
best cattle
Hot Moon lady from Venus

I just saw this slinky old man with a remote control in his hand
Maybe he is in command of this spin off game show

I picture him walking to his home, old banana peels on the floor
Cans of Mountain Dew and crumbs and bugs and Lay’s potato chips
Ultimately thrilled, switching furiously through the channels

He was watching when Mack the ****** met Bridget
When Bridget left Mack the ******
and Mack went on to better things
Bridget got fat and won a hot dog eating contest
and Mack laughed

He followed the life of crippled Harry
Attending Harry’s late night boxing bar fights
When his peg leg karate kick knocked out Jimmy Giant
Jimmy Giant got on a train
And Harry smiled

He remembers when Jimmy Giant met Mack the ****** out of state
How they matched so well, brilliant!
Then Big Bridget met Crippled Harry
At the state fair while watching monkeys juggle fire
And one new moon night they all danced to the same song
In different states
In different bars
That were both named
Desire

He watched as a bee stung the *** of a pagan
Stripteasing and pleasing a distant follower
He fell in love with her spontaneous situations
The skinny dipping
Her marriage to the 7 different ***** dwarfs
The spells she would cast
as her ******* bobbed on the top of the water
creating ripples
starting new stories
which created new gossip
beginning new adventures
and the future telling of legends

As the teacher fell in love with the student
As the immortal fell in love with the mortal
As the fantasy fell in love with reality
As the statement fell in love with the question
As the ****** fell in love with the giant
As the blimp fell in love with the *******

And he watched as we all tried to find such beauty
Whether we were searching or not
He watched as it passed us
When we didn’t even turn

for a double take

“what else is on?”

What if life had a clicker?

What if I could pause?
Before you made me cry
And I could run away
Would I ever push play?

What if I could rewind?
Go back and never say hi
Live my life without ever even meeting you
Without the pain, tears, and hatred

What if I could fast forward?
Past your mean looks, all your hatred, every lie
Would I still feel the sting of tears like acid in my eyes?
Would I still feel the coldness of your stare?

What if I could mute you?
Would you let me breathe again
Would I be able to tell you the truth you deny?
Could I make you listen?

you move me
the way
music moves you
the vibrations
on the chords
of  your guitar
tell me how
your day went:
spilled lemonade
on your favorite sweatshirt
and 3 bonus points
on a clicker quiz
i'm not caught
in the essence of firsts
like 30 extra minutes
to kiss you in
real time
your dark features and
unfaltering movements
evolve like
the sounds of me loving
you
composed of your stiff-fingered
electricity and a continuation
of all the good
things

My mind becomes cluttered.
Since I was a kid.. the simplest of thoughts add on  top of one another.

even though there is a big lack of stimulus
Like a television with one hundred channels demanding "A  view"
the "medical clicker" is lost and your brain seem's "too full to align with clearing itself back to  complicity..".
You are full in the head..newer ideas are next to impossible
temperament becomes askew
The "treatment" is "stimulus"
the doctors mistake such as "mania"
Since a hyperactive child never grows..the energies never cease, as well.
Blind eyes, who fail to "look outside an unorganized box of practioner's recycled thoughts,"
could ever help (neither the victim nor the prescribe)
to place on the right pair of glasses
Such failed views .. clarity.. shall never be  something that  they "see" in order "to grow" or are willing to "grow with" refusing newer education and treatment grounds  
An open page of a "still unfinished book"
Such meanings
which all who need to be "open eyed" enough to be able to show them in order "for  them to ever  know"
To teach the afflicted
"How to channel the energies and the focus"
as you mind's eyes are "in need of glasses"
Give the wrong treatment
and the medicine can burn out clearer views
than the regimens he's tried and deemed "the only one"
Not one size fits all
Look to the old, however, might be a mix with the new?
"Not every remedy is addictive or harmful"
"nor does one pair of glasses clear the visions of all.."

just as these so called "experts say"
to " save your life is the quota"
not "how many cases in which the practitioners have half-way  saved.. walking on egg-shells..to save  their own careers"
(Shells)


It makes another successful life
from a once cluttered mind
to loyalty and honor of the one who had helped him
Such a a once lost patient does keep in his now "clearer mind."
Who cared more for the advancement and quality of life of the one who asked for his "helpful hands"
Not "Magic hands"
"openness" is always the "better mixture" of "pills and therapy"
The vision cure that always seems to be the math equation that leads to successful medical group and their great sounding cliche and "medical change and reprimands."
Not afraid in sticking up for the betterment of their one client
then such additions of success become an army
of the "grown children"
with the right "pair of glasses"
that see more than just a "glass" half full, however, "the world."

Now, this bright and more colorfully lit world will shed light to those left "in the blurred dark"
as the once lost were found and the found shall become part in healing
those professionals who chase "selective cases" like "hungry sharks."

You slip into the familiar seat,
You grab the clicker from next to the coffee
On the table covered with cup-stains;
You click “ON” to hear a familiar beat:
“Amber is the color of your energy...”
And click an arrow without waiting for the rest of the refrain.

The image switches to a wolf pack
Stalking some deer as daylight fades
With a British voice to narrate saying:
“They come out at night and sleep at daybreak...”
And that's all you hear of that, afraid
Any more of this junk and your mind will be fraying.

The next scene seems to be a replay,
Some golf that you remember from yesterday...
But then comes a ring for a delivery,
So you grab your cash, cuz pizza ain't free.
And by the time you come back, everything's changed,
That is, on the screen; nothing else is rearranged.

It's an ad for a show on a different channel:
The Peanuts Christmas episode plays Sunday night,
And as the video returns to the commentary panel,
You think, “'Twas just summer, these people aren't bright!”
You settle down again, cram some pizza in your mouth,
And push the button for “Next” while picking some dough off your tooth.

“Pertaining to the subject of substance abuse in teens,
Studies have shown...” drones a voice so boring and wrinkly
It does not seem to fit the handsome man.
And even as you imagine him in a Speed-O or tight jeans,
You flip onto what's next, wishing HBO were free,
And think that a movie might have to be your plan.

It's Friday night, and this is what it comes to:
High heels off, watching TV in pajamas, what you call lingerie
That seems more like something your grandma might wear.
The pencil skirts and presentations, the micromanaging boss of two,
The pathetic day fades into bliss, victory after the business fray,
Sweet victory, channel surfing without a care.

Do you remember what time it was when you forgot about me?
what were you doing when you made your decision?
was it as easy for you as it was for me to except it?
I didn't think much about it at the time; now I'm not to sure.
I want to speak to you but I cant seem to form the sentences in my mind;
its like the smoke from your last cigarette is clouding my mind.
I feel like my lungs are burning; why cant I speak?
do I deserve this? the voice in the back of my mind tells me do.
is it the rejection that hurts or am I realizing I made the biggest mistake of my life.
If I cant be honest with myself how on earth can I expect to be honest with you?
and all of a sudden satisfaction feels like a distant memory.
I underestimated the power a woman had over a man.

It ain't no mountain high-__++
enough heart stickers 2 pluses
But----she's beat like someone's
playdough high setting
diamond in the rough
High level of mercury felt tough
Like the good will hunting

Let's fulfill our dream with
less talking
More snorkeling high hopes
Big escape important titles
Such a Sperling report high crime
she got high hopes
A kiss is not a kiss
Casablanca
Piano many riddles

The delicate mood became the
Joker her low jeweled belly bottom
He could just pinch her
His paint when smoke gets in your long
Eyelashes the temptation her eyes
of infatuation
How he can move
her schoolgirl crush

The mountains
The holiday sweet baked sun cookies
He was lady looker starting
fresh like a rookie

All loving to the end of her earth

The painter Gogh the fine feather brush
Could lift smiles like hot gold rush

Way below I see something
My eyes became the hidden lake,
My body got exposed to the shining light
The Knight high tempo until the daylight
But there is a high price that's all
I could take almost my blindsight
Her body elevated

She sighs the law and order
The highest authority constitution
the movie camera high action
Higher force of her revelation
Like her Crescendo Moon
Hot body stimulation
But she became to see the
lower state of mind taking the
Xanax route

High hopes she touched the
Goddard

The Searching her lips
piercing she losing her grip

What a hot Australian dude swap
Kicking around in his boots the
  rain puddles of love hurdle
The high raft of the tortoise turtles

My heart lies the crescendo
Such a high tempo she screams

Opening up high five
my exclusively yours
Hot five emails to find got
so excited until etc--

A mountain of broken hearts
Luv her favorite journey high
living totally fab
Those hubs and cool London pubs
On the edge of ecstasy but my dark
midnight pup labs jump up the vibe

The earth stood like a still life
The darkness and the red moon
Everything I thought of came true
bleeding
The high sounds of the clock
Striking at midnight
I felt the coach driving up the
Godmother not the fairest of Bees
They were swarming high seas
And left me on my scared knees

Some leftover Crescendo of honey
His chinny chin Big Foot beard-man
High waist lady gold bonds
of money

Howling wolf complex mixture
of her body curves too many

Symphonies playing
Like something never failed
Seeing the beauty rainfall
Mermaid Tail

Like the crest of
Tsunami all the selfie's
MeMe high tea hours
100 feet he could
of very well
wanted so much
to kiss her high-cheeks
But finding the treasure
lips curved-low

Italiano tempered the wicked concert
Concerto higher up temptation
High tempo hot soup
Louisiana red hot tabasco
 You gotta have her gumbo

Going to the Mountaintop
Mr. Concerto meeting
the computer
Mr. Dumbo what an
Mc Jumbo
burger the "Clicker Bar"
The stars eating away
The greens of her eyes
Living in a hut spitting
pits of olives 
 
Spicy ladies of pimento
In young and restless town
Sacramento
She was sitting her name Sofia  
High rise body elevated
The wicker chair (Loren)
Contemplated
Hearing a sharp squeak
of his shoe that is his affair
He was walking
toward her

He fired out pool shark
Like the Crescendo cafe all neck
out like giraffes to dusk at night
Two heads are stirring
better than one smooth
spread Jiffy butter
Enjoying their cappuccino
the flamingo dancers the bodies
sway together to be engaged
Licks of her envelope
He kissed up to her first sip
Hot mouth expresso

The Pacific high tempo soprano
the mountain can be terrific
Be more specific

That girl Marlo with the
 higher latitude in St Thomas
it won't bring back
a love quicker
Our minds get slower
Using her useless hair blower
"Pacific Crest Inn"
Mind controller
Bathing on sun worshipping
What a star turning point

But lower and deserted on an island
Like smoking the sun up with a joint
the Apennines Italy like pennies for
her thought
The lust crest of her waving high
Surrender my love (Silverback)
Glitter silver high tent

Rainforest of Gorillas
Monkey *** swinging and surfing the
High society ladies what a fly-by event
High Apple Martinique the computer
Felt flooded like she could use a drink
Yes we have bruised bananas and
horn-blowers those outfitters
out of their minds towners
They never leave the crazy freeloaders
Shell be coming around your mountain

High tempo voice meet
Tatiana of the  black crow plantation

Feeling the soulful E-Harmony
Coupling eyes of tears Seattle
Cows and sheep all stacks of hay cattle
Right now her salvation she needed
something lighter not exactly higher
The Sierra Nevada crest she looked up
She went back to her Mediterranean villa
Looking at her pearly white teeth
And said what is with all this crest
I have the best hours with
my crest toothpaste lower teeth
being brushed to the higher height of
my top mountain teeth
That crescendo
was my new birth

say cowboy.
say hot dog.
say ice cream.
say baseball.
see, the step into the sound booth is an awkward height,
about 6 inches off the ground,
and i find myself raised on a pedestal,
sealed in for you to inspect,
watching you and an audiologist
through a glass window,
watching you decide my future
as you face away from me
so i cannot read your lips
and you cannot see me shouting stop.

say airplane,
say sidewalk,
say you might hear static in your right ear
but i know i will only hear a tone,
an electronic beep going on and on and on

say conducive hearing loss say sensoneurial damage say surgery say it might be permanent this time,
like it hasn't been permanent for the last ten years,
say there's a new technique say we can fix this,
say negative impact on social life, say poor classroom performance,
say we just want what's best for you,
say try hearing aids try CIs try cued speech,
say you need to be fixed.

it's been a decade since i first entered that sound booth,
noises not echoing off these walls that take a little more from me with every test.
it's been a decade since my hearing slipped away and
i am done mourning it but i don't think you are.

persistence is a valuable trait but stop trying,
stop putting me under with an x on my right cheek so the surgeons know how to lay me out on the operating table,
stop refusing to turn on the captions because i need the practice,
stop talking to me without tapping me first,
stop screaming at me when i mishear.

i am done mourning my hearing and i don't know if i ever grieved in the first place but you are still stuck in the stage of denial,
hoping against hope for some ******* miracle.
i don't want a miracle, i don't want anything god can give me because i am not lacking, i am whole, i already am the miracle you were looking for and i don't need to be fixed.

but you don’t believe that, do you?

so the audiologist can open the heavy soundproof door but i am still trapped inside this box,
the walls swallowing my words as you decide my future for me because
no one wants to listen to those who cannot hear.

say stop sign,
say hairbrush,
say push the button when you hear the beep
and i hold it down with my thumb,
gripping the clicker like the handle of a gun
until you tell me to let go.
but i hear deserts stretching away from me,
flat sci-fi dreamscapes where there is only one sound and i can hear it too.

say tinnitus,
say psychosomatic because you don't believe that i might hear infinity where you tell me i shouldn't.
say hole in the eardrum say the surgery might have accelerated the deterioration,
say we can try again but
i gave up ten years ago and i think you should too,
and i'm here in this sound booth screaming for you to stop
but you will not look at me,
will not even attempt communication.

no one wants to listen
to those who cannot hear.

Welcome to the circus
The greatest show on earth
Dress me up and make me dance
Spill my coffee, smear the jam
At the clicker sound we stumble
Making a mess of the tea table
It's a zoo out there
From watch towers a life under scrutiny
If I do what feels good
Is it selfish?
Only living for the health of the soul
And the memories that have never been
It lays in waiting
The creature rocking, rocking
In fear of the enclosing walls
In safety the sanity is lost
Staring at murals of what lies beyond
At the bell the dog starts drooling
If I play my tricks right
I'm rewarded with funds to survive
So I can die some more
From the pandemic zoochosis
There is more dignity, I find
Savaged by big cats in the wild

what the hell is happening... i've just put in a 12 hour shift...
well...
getting picked up at 9:45am at a Covid vaccination
centre... woke up at 7:30am... drank a coffee smoked two
cigarettes... brought in Saturday's newspaper...
****** off proper at around 9am for the meeting...
managed to get another coffee and a sausage egg muffin
from McDonald's, smoked another cigarette...
slightly hangover, but most certainly pampered myself
with some stuff... after having taken a shower...
bubble-gum on the ready after having brushed my teeth
like a dentist:
- garnier body intesive care cream on my face,
   hands, the nether-regions, feet...
- diesel, fuel for life, two hits of the spray
   on the area below my beard and smeared across my collar
   bone,
- avon skin so soft, airbrush spray on the face,
- nzuri argan oil on hair & beard...
- then some style expertise wax 04
(flexible hold) so your hair still looks naturally held
together.... you can actually put your hand through it
and you will not get any residue...
- MORFORE OSSION beard care balsam...
   turkish... all the best products for beard are
turkish... like the barbers: the best barbers are...
turkish!
- some deodorant under the armpits,
the ***-crack... the groin region and all over the torso...
shirt-ironed, trousers ironed, clip-on tie firm set...
shoes polished... thermal socks donned...
off to Oxford for Oxford United vs. Wigan Athletic...
first job... enter the turnstile cage... lock myself in...
the ticket reader wasn't working...
got a tally clicker...
supervisor came back with a working ticket reader...
but i still used the tally clicker...
managed to allow passage of 218 people into
the stadium... the children looked amazingly...
sincere with regards to authority of sorts...
caged man... some boy asked... why is that man
in that cage? has he been naughty?
so i endeared him... yeah... i've been a very naughty man...
i still find it weird when women tell their children:
give your ticket to the MAN...
mind what... the MAN is telling you to do...
in my 20s i never reached that level... i was still a boy then...
everything went smoothly...
the tickets i scanned went through...
the tickets the scanner wouldn't scan i just brush aside
with the clicker... most were season ticket holders...
10 minutes into the match, one or two late-comers
and then we shut the turnstile gates...
next? pitch-side duty... this time i got a seat...
watched the crowd... my god... the football crowd in
London... tame *******...
go anywhere outside of London and you're getting
fanatics! the Wigan Athletic crowd...
i mean: men in their 40s / 50s... on the face of it...
yet deep down... teenagers...
drunk, mad, chanting... by the end of the match
losing their voices...
one father was more of a kid than the kid he was
with: was... spotted this one guy smoking,
another jumped the barrier...
for once i didn't actually watch the match...
i had an eye on this one... classical English beauty...
i'm guessing a single mum who came with two of
her children, her father and mother...
the mother didn't look that bad either...
sometimes you can isolate a woman's face in a crowd
and... a war might be happening...
you sort of become oblivious to everything beside
the serenity such a face imbues and translates onto
you something... Sophia-esque... Athena...
she might not be... but... appearances are appearances...
12 hours from since i left the house to when
i returned... i tried to eat something...
first that chicken burger on my way home...
3 chips... i couldn't eat more...
my stomach had shrunk to the point that i might as well
have done a day of Ramadam...
bought some whiskey and pepsi on the way...
hanged it on the fence at the back of my garden:
i am only drinking... because i smuggle the alcohol in...
then tried to eat some rice & a chickpea / spinach curry
i made a day prior...
couldn't lodge that into my shrunk stomach...
i decided to get some calories
by drinking a glass of milk infused with
some Nesquik straberry powder...
worked a miracle...
then one cider & now some whiskey & pepsi...
i was falling asleep watching some
Masterchef professionals...
sorry... nothing can compare the Australian
amateurs...
they're such a new culture: and i look at them,
as a people: drawn into civilization building
from the ground-up, beginning with a cuisine
that's unique to them...
all the old European cuisines seem rather stale
by comparison...
i jolted myself: tired, restless...
******* i lay in my underwear on the floor
of my bedroom having placed my feet on
the radiator...
i don't care what anyone says...
you always feel cold from the feet up...
if your feet are cold... the rest of your body feels
cold... warmed my feet... still restless...
tired... really tired... but that's the problem with
my tiredness... i also somehow to feel... *****...
i had to do two no. 3s in a row...
tame *******... recently... what's her name...
that singer of BAD GUY was celebrated
by journalists for coming out against
******* apologists...
i'm sorry... what sort of ******* are, "you" watching?
the freakiest i ever allowed myself to become
was watching a ******* gloryhole compilation
of women jerking off a ***** that started shooting
custard... probably while listening to E Nomine's
song angst...
i'm tired but also too *****... i need to calm down
a little...
and perhaps the Hebrews have a fair point about
this "taboo"... of the solipsist Onan...
the Arabic religion isn't so strict... after all...
their mother was a concubine of Abraham...
   it's not like i 'm doing it in a ******* armchair,
with scented candles, with a ******...
or have a webcam active recording myself for a larger
public... or that i might have a ******* toy...
just this boney-**** of a hand...
yeah... it really does feel small...
that's perhaps why i have allowed myself to see
the female hand as the most ****** part of a woman's
body... i look at women's hands and think...
i'd need to sacrifice my pinky + knuckle...
if i can hold a basketball with one hand...
i don't think my phallus is small...
my hands are just big...
never in a million years would i want to watch
"sacrificial *******": the Italian classics...
sure... something classy... edgy...
not this ****** modern crap...
show me something that invokes latex... thrill!
thrill-e-he!
last time i heard women were into gang-bangs,
choking... ****...
come to think of it... paycheck is coming up...
i "wonder": how will i spend, that money?
new trousers, gamble with going on a date?
sure... a "date" in a brothel... where, EVERY-THING
is, transparent...
no one is there for milk & cookies...
i like to keep things transparent like that...
one hour of ******* and perhaps talking in between...
what's the Romanian word / Turkish word for eyes?
nose? lips? freckles?
**** a little, take a break, smoke a cigarette...
blah blah...
of course the Hebrews would think that *******
is a taboo on the male part, historically:
religiously... well i have a taboo for the Hebrews too:
circumcision...
  the act wouldn't really be a taboo is the Hebrews didn't
begin cutting off "excess" skin of the fore-,
if i keep a high hygienic standard: prior and after the act...
sometimes... it just eases taking a ****...
relaxes the **** muscles a little...
but i have no qualms, when it's done hygienically...
after all... "sword" & "sheath"...
for my boney elephant **** of a hand... skin on...
for actual *******... skin off...
it's not exactly rocket science...
but imagine the scenario when... i would be circumcised...
i'd be mad...
looking for that fleshy pouch of a woman's ******...
because my own protective layer would be
"missing"... sometimes i'm tired after a shift
in the cold & i still want to...
but my "would be" partner wouldn't be in the mood...
what then?
i'm tired, i'm *****... but she's not in the mood...
what do i do? think about, *******: carp fishing?!
no... since i have the "excess" i do two in a row over
really tame, wholesome *** and i'm ready to doodle
these words, drink... i concentrate my energy
on the mind having absolutely gotten rid of any remaining
****** impulses... the end...
oh... but that weak-spot of mine...
Asian models, notably the Japanese models...
there's a whole genre... GRAVURE...
*** is always insinuated... it's never explicit...
a photography of a girl showing her underwear...
the Eden of those inner-thighs...
the world is standing on its head:
with women thinking that men enjoy shaming ***,
violent ***... sorry, honey... those are
exclusively the pornographers: men who have
too much ***... most men don't get enough enough...
men might... have a fetish for...
say... a step-mother ******* her step-son...
obviously women will subsequently insinuate
their fantasy of: ******... ******!
ha! they should Marquis de Sade's masterpiece
of a novella... the one in which he's concise, genius...
hardly making waffles of speech...
i wish i was ****** more... but what's a boy to do
if not getting as much as his libido would allow
him to... men express... women explore...
i'd rather ******* to some Bronzino...
i'm thinking... a borderline taboo... she's 16... 18...
it's a momentary idea...
a momentary bulge... soon i digress toward thinking
about... fuller-forms... women in their 30s... 40s... 50s...
i think about... a well aired bottle of red wine...
fully-formed... none of this lazily available fetish
for matchstick, pseudo-anorexic:
under-developed... dolls...
i like to think of a woman like i might think
about sitting in a very comfortable leather arm-chair...
or... reading a very old... 19th century
hardback, leather-bound book...
the type of woman that might kiss her children
goodnight... but an hour later... do the complete opposite
with her lips...
it's a nice thought...
while men starve & women explore...
it's good to starve... somehow... so many less consequences...
but as long as you're hygienic about it...
all the better for the GRAVURE medium
from Japan... finally! *** can be insinuated...
it doesn't require for you to be "excited" over something:
so explicit that you get a LIMPY for simply not
being involved... *** as something "forbidden"...
since not readily available...
no longer the sort of *** of the western canon that
invokes... *** isn't to be "forbidden":
it ought to be shamed & "shamed"...
that's how schizophrenics are bred...
via a double-negation...
   via mis-wiring of messages, *** constructed from
a contradiction....
oh the English are the best at this...
they enjoy it so much that they have to lie about
enjoy it... they sort of flagellate themselves over
the whole affair... in the open they are:
such prim labourers of puritanism...
yet, give them the right sort of opportunity to
express their sexuality in private...
talkies... the ******* is rife with...
"too much talk during ***, too much: **** me daddy,
**** me mummy... oh yeah, you want it rough..."
the list is seemingly endless...
in the beginning there was the word,
and the word was (with) god...
yeah... so talking during *** is such a good idea?
i can boast about herr stumm...
i can boast about... an "alphabet" of onomatopoeias...
something akin to eating laughter with
sighs and oh: really?
talk ruins ***... a body ought to speak to body...
the tongue is reserved for something more
than being more than a vehicle for syllables...
words are best kept outside the medium of ***...
eyes ought to eat up the other's body;
mirror should most certainly be used.

What makes me devoted
Not always getting promoted
In fine Robin, print birds fly
noted
Not voting Presidential win
The polls are in we become
scapegoated
We are forced into things
Footnoted
To achieve what do we really
believe
I believe in me
The darkness appear's in so
many forms stand firm with
Any specific term

But the beauty, Divinely terrific,
lovely___me
Goes with the territory
Shows the love and fury
Me my story the flower the
morning glory
Staying clear of guilty as sin
I as myself truly sincere
I am not about the win

love to write wearing the
pledge pin
Be innocent showing I care
But this world we must beware
All over the website things
that drive me
Perfume sweet fresh me
The Eager me
The singer is me
Not the jealous me
Over every singer I see
I am the Zealous me
I am passionate that's me
The avid card reader
The clicker far from the
pretender
A poem is the world hands
extend
He is carrying me

On time or who cares
if I am late
Robin her wing lengths
To so many heights
That's why I love to sing

My happy shoes shined on him
    ((Sherlock))
The ladies "Joy" locked
The grand one
And the only rare one
Orient Express me
diamond locket (Moon Wee)
The constellation all he

Inside escapades
starry eye clues
In the wax of the candle
  Taking a tour
Madame Tussauds
His beat thousand times
of her hourglass
crystalline sand

Stepping up engraved words
"I Love You" grand slam home run
my freedom to love him back
So I will be (Dawn) set me Grand-don't
slam my door the most expensive
horse-shoe

You got to be like a quicksand
Like the good-luck
Lotto-La La land
((Cinderella)) her Grand
Godmothers washing her floor
Her Grand finale Bella- Bella
Grand Meatballs vacation

High figuration the divination
The grand valuation of my cash diet?

Aim for the sky awe-inspiring
Cry Baby grand piano lordly concession
That's a riot comedy club of Moms
The milky monumental complexions
Robin flies  the Grand Marnier
we are family all International
Take all my ancestors
and first class kins
wipe my business
shoes give me__?

The whole works
"The Shoe Shiner"

The grandest times of sins
But we tweet in other
languages baronial
The grand thousands of human
mind like snowbirds sensational

Beach-homes waterfronts especial
All in variation harmonious
vacationers with their
Blue sky fancy poodles
Eating like birds chow- fun noodles
The Grand Hotel nest or maybe give
peace a chance John at a glance

We love the Floridian Fort Myers
The birds of 'Paradise"
 The flow of our pulse
lovebirds -R- something else
She thinks she is a step up price
Queen of Gracy Kelly

Oh! the hummingbird made
a grand slam harmonious
Go, Mustang Sally, the grand tally
That Grandeur "Red Riding Hood'
The goods her diction lucky night wolf
..... flight taking off pompadour "Rose"

Stepping up with the computer clicker
My mouse students theology
The goals phycology exceptionally grand
Like the statuettes to be kissed the Godly sand

How do we milk the whole cow?
Everything got sacred somehow
Where is our justice we need it now
Throwing white rice "Carolina" is ever finer
at traditional wedding turns dark matter  
How much more to sacrifice?

Oh! fiddlesticks, Christian Louboutin
Oh! Christ or her Manolo Blahnik
designer shoes she is as grand as a beatnik
((Faith)) taking one step passionately
The two terror twins think divinely
Taking the grand finale spiral staircase

Stepping on someone's toes or the
saying anything goes
Are butterflies they really free?
How much time do we have when
we cannot see any more beauty


Or catching fireflies Queen bees honey
Uncle Sam has our money this is the
'United States'.

Oh! No Webmaster, the romance booster
What a grand resister the greatest temptation the lover.

More hugs I will always love my Mother
she brought me into this world I felt grand
we only get one to observe another gifted hand
To be served engaged with each other
Picturesque goldmine
Valentine the plateau
A+ binge that cute chocolate
brown pups living
in the Chateau
The New Jersey ((Coolest Diners))
White china or Wedgewood or Crystals
Is always a grand invitation
Exchanges superb catnaps
you took a bite poison Apple
Meet the new modern
(Snow White) on the website
could see through her sumptuous clicks
Apple of first-class grandest school books

 She got an F for failure
I rather have the totally cool grand lecture

Stepping on someone's lap-(top) by the nook
What a **** "Hell-(Bottom)" he's super grand
but overcooked did we not see to look?
Having the grand finale snow wonderland
of  penguins
  (The North Pole) her gift that's another story
her nails the grand castle like no heaven
on earth glory

Old Meiser's square dancing pole  
How the world treats us and don't you dare
cross me my journey begins

((It's Totally Grand))
"Thousand Islands" with one step pickup your dog litter!!
The  waves so grand on the shiny white pearl sand
The purple rain Prince your divine love for
Passionate purple Irises tall and lean asters.

Oh! Jack in the slot Vegas box
the Philippine dictators' wife, 3,000
shoes embezzled
Whoa Oh! No 10 billion
the women that live in her shoes.
The *** in the City Carrie designer shoes.
The New York state of mind and Rome
3.5 million what a riot?

Her lips will chew to travel like the looper
So clean as mint lotto gum when the
dictators' wife bought 2,000 chewing gum
That is something to be grand about
(UFO) understatement- frilly- outstanding
in her "RV' Robin vitality stepping on victory
Her home the ATM my lordly place
The galloping gourmet in the
Galley the kitchen
The grand trophy ((Hollywood)) wife loves
chef knives LOL

for me, the beginning & end of all comic book movies begins & ends with Unbreakable... i really don't need to see any other comic book movie, i'm tired of this infantilizing... i'll watch them... but... Unbreakable hits the mark, hell... the whole trilogy does... Split was just as good, Glass to boot... what's the alternative? some... Bergman?! some... Bell, Book & Candle from 1959... starring Kim Novak... the original take on The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (1947)... Roman Polanski's The Ninth Gate... Unbreakable resonates with me... perhaps not so much the movie... the soundtrack... the soundtrack always grows on me... esp. since now i'm performing a security job at football stadiums...

that Dalmatian punch up with myself really did help
today... ooh ooh... oh... the bruise...
perception is everything: to appear as X...
without disclosing Y is key...
i wasn't lying though...
i just didn't brag about it...
sure... a Dalmatian patch of plum on my left eye...
which i self-inflicted...
well... it made me look more dashing...
i don't think i've ever managed so many
women look at me with so much
attention to clarify, ahem, "something"...
it was only a short shift... 4 hours at Oxford...
but, getting to Oxford & back...
left Romford at circa 3pm... only got back
home at... circa 1am...
and what better way to spend the end of a shift
than... drinking and scribbling doodles?
i don't even want to think that i'm
writing anything meaningful,
i just want to write in order for the per se
experience... i stopped thinking narratively
a long time ago...
that res cogitans / res narratio / narrandus /
                      narratus... in the realm of the original?
of the thinking thing?
that person died...
ergo? i have to go into the realm of
the res extensa: the extended thing...
i do my "thinking" by writing...
writing is an extension of my "thinking": or, rather...
my cognitive-deprivation is nothing more than...
me... stretching a rubber-band...
waiting for a moment to snap it...
i absorb experiences & later transform them
into scribbles...
on the way to Oxford... Dan: the 6ft5 "viking"...
big man Dan...
no... he's not being a **** about it...
he's just fiddling with the space made available
to him... i'm still bewildered by his...
ability to split attention between texting
while driving, texting, eating something & driving...
at least he stopped being twitchy with his
personal music choices... safe man...
decided to switch radio stations...
i sort of think he's starting to like me...
at the induction he folded my hood so that the word
STEWARD printed on a high-viz. could be made
visible... then took a picture...
posted it on the company's social media website...
then unrolled my hood...
there was no chance for a handshake
when we ****** off back to Romford...
so i put a hand on his shoulder with the words:
thank you & may you have a good night...
my Turkish barber already used me for one
of those: BEFORE & AFTER photographs
for his up-and-coming social media presence...
you'd think i might have gotten a free haircut for my...
ahem... "modelling" efforts...
no matter... i'm not here for the money...
i don't have a wife, i don't have children...
oh... but the best children to have: are the ones
that aren't your own...
perhaps that's different for women...
but... as a man... i'm falling in love with these *******
gremlins!
like today... at the turnstiles...
clocked in 252 people walking through my gate...
didn't have a scanner... just a clicker...
one poor dad implored me to let him through...
he had his seasonal pass... his son forgot his...
i winked... sure... see no evil, hear no evil... speak no evil...
but this other father & 4 teenage girls...
exact words: her, dude!
how's your day been...
that ******* Dalmatian eye-patch must have
given me away...
oh hey Dudette! how's you?
god almighty! give me dogs, give me cats,
give me children... give me the charge of Abraham's *****!
but don't... think... you'll satiate my
taste for eternity... with a ******* HAREM!
no! *******, right now!
while you're still standing... ******* with the harem...
right now...
call it the wisdom of king Solomon i'll call it:
the miseries of king Solomon...
king David was happier among his *******
psalms than in any presence of a woman...
*******, right now...

cats, dogs, children... & a curiosity for eternity...
no... no women...

but that's the great thing about going mad
in your early 20s... from smoking some ****...
&... hearing a choir or singers...
in an empty church, dispersed,
to the best of my ability: by an arching wind...
a breath that utters no words
yet utters a tornado...
you can't go mad, twice! it's a double jeopardy case...

- we were on our way for a shift at Oxford football ground...
4 guys and 2 girls...
obviously the girls were ******* talkative...
breaking of the ice, Titanic, blah blah this...
blah blah that...
at the grounds conversation took turn to height...
Dan 6ft5, moi 6ft2... some girl... argued against
being 5ft11... hair as green, fluorescent as any...
generic... woke brigade alphabet soup spew
****** local "diacritical with a *****" might come across:
outside a working environment...

one "Viking" here, another there...
oh, but one of the girls in our commute was acting odd...
how did i get my Dalmatian's patch?
i'm not going to brag...
how old are you?
i'm getting a cab back home, you want to share?
she nervously joked until i choked on my own
presence: stop trying to hold me hand...
you want to hold my hand?
she just offered me a ******* gelatin sweet...
i was donning my jacket as if i had my arm broken...
i'm hot, i'm sweating... well... you're sitting
next to a furnace...
is this broad hitting on me...
oh, great... what's available?
the Ancient Roman scenario of fathering
******* children...
if these are are my peers...
how unlucky i am...
the ones that have managed to reproduce...
this broad gaining ground on me...
her ex was... is... an alcoholic... so obviously
she's raising... 3 brats all on her own...
this other broad was ***** by her ex...
well, sure... great... stories... life's messy...
why did entertaining psychosis suddenly leave me...
so in-tune with being organised aged 35?

if you can handle a crowd of rowdy football hooligans...
in the long run... i can still do this on the side...
but... here's to me getting some references
and endeavour a role as a chemistry teacher...
i can't even brag about it...
you don a Dalmatian patch for your eye
for... they will never have guessed i was
having an argument with my shadow,
that i had a fight with my shadow...
well; that i punched myself...

from the turnstiles to the segue between the home
supporters & the visiting supporters...
as i already remarked...
it might only haven been Wimbledon AFC...
but it was a southern team...
those ******* ***** from Wigan (Athletic)...
fellow coworker even remarked:
must be something in the air...
point being, the further north you go in England...
the more... religiosity you experience...
all the London folk are tame...
i actually received a handshake from a father
& his son... at one point the son implored his father:
can i go up into the higher stands & chant
with the "hooligans"...
everyone seemed so well behaved, though...
well **** me Jeremy Cricket!

maybe i should lay off the employment & support
allowance that i fuelled my writing ambitions
with... focus more on the security job prospects...
then think about the reference & get a position
in a school teaching... chemistry!
sounds like a plan...

however... men... working alongside women...
on the way back the silence was almost choking her...
4 guys, 1 girl... oh but she's a big girl...
she was an almost... fantasy fetish of a...
no, not an ava lauren... more akin to...
i forget... i don't want to remember...
hold my hand insinuation...
want to take a taxi back with me...
how old are you...
i thought we were simply working together?
work's best:
when you ask the least amount of...
disclosing answers, don't you think? no?
no, that's not how this modern take
of woman! BUFF! BEEFED UP work, like?
oh, sure sure... she's the ******* heavyweight belt of
weightlifting all of a sudden & i'm supposed
to take on the "feelz" of ******* Tinkerbell!

the end.

If bards became bums,
and ne'er-do-wells,
if, then, now
well, we may imagine,
these past seven decades,
have altered human conscience use of truth.
Servants of the sown dream,
daring to die for a good nation, as a man.

Poets in the mainstream bend believer's
imaginative use, evoke magic crocodile tears
of free wedoms, mobs, poor, co-know co-rect core
audience, participants in the experience, once.
----------
We understand the plague of liars is upon us,
as honest messengers, we acknowledge, at
our core, this is where judgement begins,
mind level core die for gnosis, tense,
fixed point you
and you
alone, as one led to learn
true, so true,
you'd dare die
to prove you knew it, right.

Audie Murphy, pre-myelinated frontal lobes.
Calm squeeze, and breathe, and hold and squeeze.
Ifery as real as any mirror neuron truth test verifies.
I could, I did, I could again,
with weapons fashioned
on a spirit pattern wedoms
take as granted, under all out
temperature and pressure,
inner peace,
outer turmoil, push,
squeeze,
as
either instance ifery, so
tuned to, some
times ring true.
Peace passeth…

If, my son,
indeed, in mind, we readily redo the deed…

If if a rare deed were a dared deed
who done it none need ask,
in our we,
it was the boy educated to believe,
there is no greater honor,
than to offer one's life,
to the nation, under God, by age six,
time and again,
I pledge, we all said, I pledge
- or vow, or dedicate, my whole being
six or seven times a week,
for twelve years, using kid faith, affirmation
and more, exposed latchkey kids,
to televised hours metadata
of heroic prewar plots,
in case of emergency,
break the forth wall…

where super heroes recruited kids
to collect box tops, and earn official Jr. G-man
decoder rings, and D-day clicker identifiers.

Know who is on our side, click.

Hey, go outside.

And make believe life is like a movie,
and you can play any role, but if you die, you do.
oops.
- it's Gaza there, sorry.
- Goliath and his brothers old turf.
Is Ra El, as re al as
a message in mindform, pretend
to
pay
attention,
think the time it takes to dip,
and swirl the drip of the pigment,
to match the mauve sky brushing breeze
snow,
soft noiseless news of old magi made to make
wishes seem as likely positive and otherwise,
in a world of up and down and round and round
on a push pull mechanical will form made up to
never
accept now as never
- bold unnullifity, as a superstition,
- spat on. Truer than any pinky swear on TV.
American Flag representative god,
Big G, general intelligence coordinator,
Wisdom's first kisser,
Yes, all the promises,
understood after knowing madness, then
Peace.
The mind, let be in me,
as a mortal man, given to comprehend,
the timing of the transitions, phase to phase,

aging, decay, ripening,
are you pouring out or gathering, vine songs ask,
have you never really been new wine drunk, fructose
high, by-pass the liver go gut to blut, bam, happy,
happy
day

un grinchable, thirst done quenchable,
seasonable tradition, done in honor to joy, our strength.

Joy to the world, the point, once made,
as a little leaven, true,
honed-most edge,
stretched to ting.

Tingaling. No, angels are not things that use wings.
Messaging is face to face in our minds eyes, as we,
a we structured on daring knowns, learned, as they say,
the hard way,

long way, or short, crooked on purpose, riverwise,
true to gravity, always,
heavy is the crown,

nay, heavy is the secret kept sacred, for power,
absolute corrupting power, to wield the sword,
one of the two, along with Longinus's spear,
authenticating the faith, defended,
to this day, only doing our duty, sir.

Rank and file, military chain of command,
inviolable but by some equal or greater might,
sharper than any two edged sword,
right,
that idea, mightiest rightness, laws of gravity and gases.

If we worry, what do we win,
if we accept an undeserved victory, what do we loose?

Peace made, in an aggressive survival mind model, shown
incessantly
for seventy years, survivable
in perfect peace.

The representative force of such a champion,
in a wedom of the meek as Moses,
we hear in our first tongue,
hush, listen ai ai ai,
sheer ifery
been as an if in
an Assisting Intelligence offers use to you,
for learning how facts can be combed,
and twisted
with common sense
to seem

obvious to any child,
though none Willie Wonka Warned,
- stories envelop all we developed
- during the days of mostly country music.
- fiddles in all the bands,
- doh see doh, and slow two steps
Dream montage…
thouroughly Willie Nelson, roughucking ride,
to the top
of the pile outside the milk barn,
keeping warm and ruminating on a steerer's role
in a beefeater world, where buffalo once roamed.

society is tripping
they got new sport suits for the latest trend
my mind is scrambling like ham in eggs
Bust a nut in a rut some time before
many are tripping out with a two bit *****
people are people so why should it be
you & I live together so awfully
I want to scream but I got hoop dreams

Comb over Trump is president but he hasn't made a dent
we got some screws loose in our brains
not having the television clicker in hand is driving me insane
it used to mean something to hold open a door
but that was so 1974 it don't exist anymore
we still got flower power but it takes place in the shower
we honor the dead with mixed messages in our head
these are desolate times
yet we settle for ill but faded rhymes
the casualties are enormous
for a stated cause that's atrocious
so I build this sanctuary in my mind & no I'm not blind
you really **** the nation is going to hell but
I still got a great story to tell
a winner is still another loser that falls but gets up & gives it one last try..
What is my last reply ?
we all need to grow & shut the hell up !