Who’s to say how
He might come back for a second
inhumanely heaped-up helping,
if we grant that immensity
of our assumption He did come
kingly first into this inside-
out size from a do-you-miss-me-
yet’s mirthfully mythical realm

I have seen Him
lurking in a particle-board fine
finish on the thin outer membranes
of our estranged and better faces;
He’s Higgs-boson omnipresent,
but far too theoretical
for our broadly practical, turned-
away gazes to rediscover

There He is now
rising in the favela’s gap-
toothed grins with fabulously naughty
corners this glee-pawed grandpa twists
using cur jests his ***** charges
imagine as flightless quarrels
grey-hooded pigeons would gaggle
were they over-stuffed on golden grain

And there again
on a Calcutta mound’s cluttered
conic end, smog-like He slowly lifts
with the crust-gnawed, razor-wire crimps
of a soup-can’s unconsummated lid
as dainty fingers crawl in toward
a gelatinous glob still clinging
to the powerful pretense it’s meat

And there once more,
conceding oms, He restless flickers
at the margins of blocky beige
Beijing screens as crisply clicked clacks
circumnavigate the darkling
smooth patches and spit-spark a few
conscious drips to squiggle out from
the babble of noxious red seas

Emerged, this welp
won’t toddle off to dribble-stain
the dressy linens of a made-up
nanny’s well-mannered and ornate
evil; it will curl up instead,
a swaddled yawn with no yearn to
suckle under His real mother’s
gaping wide and grungy bloused best

i wanna feel like the ink in a pen does
as it crimps and curls and dances its way across a naked page

i wanna feel like the page being filled

give me a pulse like a double-time war drum
     thudTHUDDing towards crescendo
     with a cymbol-crash ache
and flesh that winds my spine and river bed curves
     like a stretch of highway on a midnight drive
     that fades into the face of the moon

gimme some of that star-stuff sparkle in my pete moss eyes
a few of saturn's rings 'round my hula-hips
and a solid kiss
     right on the lips

               yeah

when i grow up
          i think i'd like to be in love

Tremors of panic fork across the elephantine trunks of foundations which lock the city
And an obsidian rainbow casts it's hysteria beneath our oozing complacency, forever.
Like a shallow breath in malady - our perceptions lay bare as the drapery falls.

A thin film of sweat crimps along the forehead of a populous unawares,
But the unconscious primordial instinct knew
- The collective archaic nuances of thought,
Projecting hypersigils among culture & society.

It knew...And knew well, that something stirred...
Even the most macroscopic to microscopic
Fungi to woodlice to single-cell organisms,
From infinite to infinitesimal - blankets of nature
You could feel the earth rumble and twitch restlessly
Something was alive, something was wrong...

An electric current siphoned through the air,
Creating a dry snap - a crackle resounding through
the foreheads of all who were aware
- Indignant to reality, preparing for an overture of animosity,
Windows part way with darkness, revealing the world's symphony in excess.

A green sunrise comes early,
Tethering on the beliefs and superstition of sense
- Brilliant flares of light tampering with reality maps,
Igniting night as if it were day
Licking unanimously amongst the feather pillows - caked with sweat,
Telling stories of a night time sleep chest-deep in the Rubicon.

Pantheon eternal
- Bridges build across the volumes which bend comprehension,
Little semblance left, torn across this monument,
Like closed eyelids there is nothing to see but a mountainous black
- A sinkhole in reverse, jutting into acumen indeed.

And under a cold hand serving the child of sanity,
The eyes of all who watch - burn out like faded twilight
Rancorous from their cortex, defying even the unknown,
Emptying out a thick drudge bemused amongst the moonstruck.
Unworkable in shape - Even as the roving underbelly passes overhead
- Twisting numerously, as obvious as the unknown is to men who never wanted to know.

Yet our barbaric need to possess solace - to presume all knowing and condition the mind - Drives us over the edge at the mere sight of ultimate shapelessness or pure formation beyond the dimensions of human existence within the eyes and protoplasm of the brain, alleviating consciousness into a reversion of childlike states;

1. Fear
2. Questioning our life's fragile coil
3. Acceptance of powerlessness,
3. And finally, affirmation/accession:

Our own transcendence and environs discharging us through a parabolic saga of madness and into the agony of destruction and hate. We are Euclid in essence, harbouring mine and your requisite for geometry and ratio. The day we glance beyond the aether and into the apex of vastitude is the day we lose our humanity but also the day we lastly...

Postulate.

There's a narrow speckled gate
here, that bakes in the afternoon,
sunlight streaks nakedly through
crimps in the iron, fortified metal
lips, curled like payot. Air thick
with lime, daisy, daisy, daisy
sometimes I stand under the
arch, reaching back and forth
between worlds.

At first he takes your hand
Leads you gently across the sand
Takes his time in his long stride
As you consider him a friend

In thoughts of younger days
He seems to stand in place
With knowing smile he crimps your style
As you have no need to wait

Then in the blinking of an eye
Time quickly slides you by
Now holding hands in the swirl of quicksand
Too many questions as to why

Coming to the age old turn
Finding you're too far immersed
And the crooked line with father time
Has finally run its course

and generation of heat in particular
cuz yours truly
spoiled with trappings
of Western Civilization.

How ideal I imagine
to dwell in a self sufficient domicile,
where thrum of the central heater...
automatically activated
upon advent of twilight,
or self adjusted/regulated
based on outside temperature
since writer of these words
thankfully linkedin to PECO grid,
(counts CAP and LIHEAP programs

for low income earners a dogsend),
subsequently scribe of Schwenksville
not resident within "smart home",
nevertheless manually pressing button
invites emulation of
Donald Trump zippered smile,
when mechanisms set in motion
to spark convection currents
warming cockles and muscles
versus skin feeling cold and clammy.

One anonymous **** sapien appreciates
basking, and luxuriating,
within climate controlled environment,
whether bone chilling
deep freeze when/where old man winter
furiously blows frigid air
into lovely bones of mine
sets indentured jaws chattering,
as on this dreary
and rainy April 30th, 2023,
or contrarily when sweltering
hazy, humid and hot
dawg days of summer
necessitates setting air conditioner
at refreshing sixty six degrees fahrenheit.

I could never survive
alone in the wilderness,
which dependence on creature comforts
inured me since birth,
but all the more power to people
(such as **** Proenneke
pronounced pren-icky)
who lived off the grid,
and minimize their carbon footprint.

Truth be told, a non impactful lifestyle
tantalizes, teases, titillates...
yours truly, a garden variety generic human
dependent I vow woolly admit
on consonant contrivances
and conveniences conditioned
courtesy capitalistic consumeristic credo
decrying his dependence
upon flow of electrons,
whereby flip of switch
(rather than fight)
when systems of a down fully functional

instantaneously allows, enables,
and provides electricity
with absolute zero ability
to stave off blackout
attributed to sudden disruption
regarding power outage
linkedin with severe
kickstarted meteorological phenomena
or terroristic machinations
(possibly even homegrown unrest)
worst case scenario signaling the end
of the webbed wide world

reducing to rubble
(think being bombed
back into stone age)
annihilating comp fur table trappings
of twenty first century civilization
forcing survivors to learn basic skills
cooperation, integration, proletarian
and utilitarian virtues
altruistic, democratic, humanistic,
mechanistic, and socratic zest
begotten, distilled, and forged
nsync with opposable thumb.

Angst crimps existence
generating dystopian thoughts
despite countless factorial permutations,
differentiations and combinations,
this cyber surfer avails two alms
boot Grinchian genes snatched such balms
when tethered in utero umbilical connection,
etched bromide, which hankering calms
embryonic sensation this corporeal being lacks
constantly subjected to exams
from the school of hard knocks,
which I bewail sets back and gloms

mine aim to revel in blissful contentment
but circumstances decreed otherwise
cursing this chap tubby haunted
exhibited by sweaty soles of feet and palms
by veritable elfin grotto dwelling phantoms
hovering over sweet clover dials a mirage
where dreams comprise psychedelic qualms
yes...Iris sieve blurbs from gals and guys
that spans the world wide web, and exude
premature ejaculatory ecstasy, puzzled if fie
totally tubular trod a tedious trek
along the boulevard of broken dreams.

What happenstance oft finds thyself to flail
amidst difficulty to maximize
optimal opportunities
searching for Holy Grail
or whatever constitutes such lofty
personal objective, perchance being hale
and hearty of body, mind and spirit
spurs the furies of fate tut test this primate
while he aims to gallop with mighty industrial
vim and vigor leaving a virtual cloud

of dust, though mindfulness helps
to pass go, and chance avoid jail
time, then maybe monopolized
feedback offered and accepted
to this married caucasian
nasty and shortish brute
with one percent Neanderthal
toothless though I possess gumption
pseudo quasi-vegetarian
enjoying poetry stone soup,

yet also subsisting
on supplementary vitamin
and mineral packed glue tin free
NON GMO fruity tall tales for a male
thirty six years shy sans bing a centenarian,
which span of life best cut short
acquiring tetanus courtesy
rusty nine inch nail
hammered into faux coffin,
cuz this impossible mission

(aery faced nincompoop) doth turn pale
at the prospect to fill up a space of land
best utilized by twittering
and tweeting birds - such as quail
mongoose, or ibis (though aye ne'er saw
one), where cremated ashes sail
across some verdant plain under
cerulean skies putting to rest every travail,
which thoughts of dem eyes spells
the main impetus explaining

this rambling spiel
warp and woof ova gauzy veil
imperceptibly looms closer upon
turrets of my digital sea faring gunwale
unwittingly capsized courtesy
Moby **** sized whale,
and thus desperation
finds me pleading for salvation
while swinging from vestigial yellowtail.

Japan {Japon}: Where the Japanese live their defiant lives speaking from their hedonistic mouths, from their diagnostic tongue upon Godless isles. The chirping of college birds “man man man” giving wide berth to “dude dude dude” making one pine for “the devil made me do it” & “let me crunch the numbers.” Another shift is over: it's time to make a desperate telephone call. I want to bald from the sides & work to the top. Three's no ministry that crimps less than it crumbles. Our soap-operish lives give meaning to romantic complexities (or complications). Once our women are tattooed, they must be classified properly. Proper tattooing facilitates to process old women; blonde ones too.

5pm
hostile rain
strikes my cheeks

crimps  my pressed
white collar
in icy fists

shakes my shoulders
like a soggy ***
of singles at Venus

with the violence
of all-consuming
yesterdays
  
drips down my ear
with the seduction
and precision
of a diamond blade

licks,
moans,
thunderously shouts
  
     "WAKE UP"

Where the Japanese live their defiant lives speaking from their hedonistic mouths, from their diagnostic tongue upon Godless isles. The chirping of college birds “man man man” giving wide berth to “dude dude dude” making one pine for “the devil made me do it” & “let me crunch the numbers.” Another shift is over: it's time to make a desperate telephone call. I want to bald from the sides & work to the top. Three's no ministry that crimps less than it crumbles. Our soap-operish lives give meaning to romantic complexities (or complications). Once our women are tattooed, they must be classified properly. Proper tattooing facilitates to process old women; blonde ones too.