love   apple   like   time   know   feel   heart   bed   little   life   home   red   boy   georgie   sleep   away   left   dear   ruth   gone   just   right   long   mind   hope   hair   mi   parts   say   fear   met   laugh   makes   sailing   make   tell   hands   day   poem   different   small   words   private   wish   legs   child   man   free   te   welcome   easy   apples   meteorite   smile   flower   want   way   arms   look   eyes   better   war   lie   good   thing   truly   teeth   passion   thought   work   seen   letters   friend   talk   brought   future   fingers   knew   imagination   sure   told   space   cold  la   mask   black   big   bite   age   size   shadow   petals   inane   stretchmarks   medic   we've   wouldn't   hear   tap   really   best   goes   face   gray   maybe   things   dream   tongue   forever   hate   set   room   death   need   truth   comes   night   lost   calves   pain   end   years   brings   touch   feet   blades   memories   new   core   times   dead   favorite   finally   minute   brain   hearts   getting   belly   far   rain   blue   knees   filled   stupid   woke   cream   fit   young   brown   se   fat   tan   cough   spoke   says   unlike   footprints   ******   rough   forward   buckle   blues   task   shoulder   grace   *******   reason   nostrils   firm   juice   palms   someday   mis   thumbs   screams   arguments   wobble   *****   elbows   *******   wrists   headaches   amo   pesky   ligaments   one-liners   thoughts   later   ash   clouds   lips   dreams   breath   mouth   hold   sense   taking   world   bit   speak   dance   gave   shall   ready   skin   air   single   breathe   button   peace   choices   hill   wrong   weak   close   use   quite   sky   phrase   darkness   justice   sound   unable   brave   holding   deep   grabbed   ****   try   building   paper   lunch   think   kind   stay   days   smooth   perfect   learned   care   fair   hard   grant   sweet   high   fruit   short   terms   kept   relationship   underneath   presence   water   looking   fool   sorrow   tree   second   delicate   nearly   happy   line   tall   tried   sad   satisfied   point   feels   falling   purpose   game   lazy   que   amor   agree   known   naught   loss   broke   failed   games   limp   grin   final   spring   act   south   flare   race   sake   car   large   wishes   neck   blink   knife   seeing   idea   steve   company   greens   spread   ship   lo   sally   sum   drowned   december   weep   sting   smiles   lessons   promises   successful   whistled   drowns   perfectly   pleasing   failure   brothers   cliche   harder   thirteen   ale   signs   limit   serenity   mundane   origin   chat   sapphires   handshakes   skinny   contagious   succeeding   super   refer   maturity   destination   civil   uncomfortable   collects   clack   liz   beatles   vez   attract   accomplishment   backside   throes   flaccid   audi   oneself   beastie   applesauce   naivete   bungalow   outie   there's   couldn't   isn't   they're   let's   'n   primos   primas   cantuta   fronton   redd's   mott's   innie   phallicly   tiny   fight   yo   para   walk   ****   hello   light   flash   silent   stone   does   forth   conversation   polite   green   minutes   ****   clear   flesh   couple   wake   anger   throw   torn   tangle   play   shattered   soldier   land   victim   carry   battlefield   came   darkest   blood   battle   warm   shine   reminds   lose   eye   dismay   hide   impossible   fast   earth   grab   stand   die   worse   year   people   white   story   hit   god   anxiety   realize   fall   asleep   dark   course   apart   morning   remain   beauty   ****   slowly   start   happen   remember   pray   past   easily   straight   mean   hand   driving   instant   thunder   messages   friends   old   coming   pen   seeds   shape   wasted   word   living   tore   shadows   knowing   bad   class   joy   trust   leaves   path   sun   ways   leave   meet   broken   head   weight   means   mountain   boys   true   stars   learn   sliced   naive   decided   player   actually   reality   ease   music   hood   desperate   promise   wishing   begin   miss   caressing   moan   thighs   heard   pretty   emotion   figure   floor   exotic   sand   hits   angel   awake   dreaming   probably   wins   seek   stretch   loved   tears   heartbreak   punk   walking   piece   furniture   unreachable   roots   near   deserve   simple   cats   tail   precious   lovers   loves   mother   tongues   clueless   share   taken   yesterday   faith   freedom   ripe   cursed   running   yes   unknown   feeling   going   stairs   opposite   wonder   afloat   packed   bones   acting   playing   wind   passions   dismissed   hourglass   reached   stares   mouths   singing   shaped   trapped   toll   dies   rock   trunk   discovered   especially   dull   choice   awful   patient   great   indoors   attached   thread   shoulders   warms   bright   bring   ending   drowning   sadness   winter   baby   looked   cute   beating   tight   kids   crying   ran   intoxicating   growing   saying   opposites   melancholy   gives   follow   clearly   dove   tu   soon   entwined   juicy   drown   laid   took   moved   bear   anyways   shirt   negative   clean   guide   sore   location   faux   nodded   glance   caught   chances   week   started   today   obvious   sweat   ***   quiet   laughed   worry   round   ladies   mama   smack   goodbye   rising   sides   wished   beds   infinite   positive   scared   admittedly   mistakes   meal   common   rises   toes   bullets   bound   suited   birth   clothes   belt   pounds   ground   barren   sitting   table   woe   swimming   stick   deepest   motion   cleared   sing   angry   action   sons   smiled   bedroom   wall   wiped   grins   mad   july   store   road   snow   pulse   important   adventure   exactly   foundation   trap   colors   floors   neon   outside   language   summer   north   fifty   served   wavy   kick   raw   thirty   row   changed   hanging   lied   drenched   companion   begins   strength   flies   direction   okay   stories   inky   stubborn   cloud   track   described   lover   replaced   pit   packs   circling   honest   wage   dinner   slave   paradox   faking   screamed   lightning   exterior   stopping   complete   deal   rifle   dependent   gifts   dancer   vision   students   horror   punch   anymore   pack   sagging   folk   honestly   tearing   prepared   creatures   listening   rhythm   unique   roar   card   glass   stage   desert   offered   fought   suffer   awoke   master   eating   furnace   glad   choir   graceful   *****   treasure   ships   bark   musical   strand   bee   finished   pink   slink   stronger   disclose   gravity   schedule   march   medicine   hates   weird   brush   laughs   helped   june   pitched   dumped   tense   sin   withdrawn   stem   proved   whispered   anew   amazing   louder   english   knocked   chilly   boots   false   mistake   toffee   whistle   smirk   gas   poised   buttons   bet   necks   elate  vi   bleak   decades   intention   plane   swollen   unseemly   en   sir   creeping   tells   success   doth   ***   balance   ant   fourth   fits   matters   pan   shook   tingle   dusty   reaching   thanked   careers   pile   tempt   ix   xi   xii   xiii   moms   hushed   spears   twinkling   works   fairytale   double   fighter   shocked   barriers   boot   thanks   solitary   lesson   owned   systems   groan   weekend   tomatoes   cider   calculating   drawer   partially   handy   stumpy   album   appealing   pet   unfortunately   jokingly   hotel   teacher   tag   eighteen   leg   dash   peep   betwixt   swear   attempt   inescapable   venues   worker   suit   coughed   remembers   rhyme   listed   chatter   stuff   assist   blocks   sheen   stanzas   jobs   cleaned   handshake   natural   moi   fantasy   cheers   smaller   curl   nay   leaning   frequent   eggs   cuando   el   desayuno   tus   beige   imperfections   difficult   darlings   overcome   oranges   keys   newfound   fairly   occasions   stats   ponder   pools   ablaze   rushes   fret   quell   breads   progress   comfortable   settling   desks   tile   trails   rainy   homemade   stunned   cemetery   plus   ideas   avocados   bananas   apply   latch   rocky   digress   experiences   vacation   sanctuary   earlier   rocket   precise   various   author   pie   explosions   *******   lighter   matched   plunged   isaac   jefferson   abe   measured   saturday   claw   welcoming   gear   trained   suffocation   leapt   gap   lee   disturbed   es   thrill   alarming   grill   frankly   importantly   una   fray   candied   amalgamation   nasty   american   optimism   guns   craters   contracted   rampant   unattainable   spilled   courts   carrots   shuffled   combined   blonde   forgave   artillery   sandwich   comfier   limitation   personalities   friday   strongly   crude   banana   tennis   limits   quaking   recesses   loot   andromeda   shells   playful   luckily   area   upwards   flail   largest   sappy   freckles   biology   fruition   cases   overtook   pinks   instruments   brownies   birthmark   reinforce   laptop   pirates   blinks   frontier   forwards   resonate   capacity   mumbled   marched   scraping   prompts   multiply   haiku   football   como   function   unfeeling   eighty   backsides   prompt   raced   blare   likewise   pro   chrome   gran   pears   puede   corazon   elated   indecisive   basketball   burgundy   synonyms   braced   effeminate   mutually   duties   companies   honeymoon   flailing   patted   mayo   headon   pero   misma   marveled   aforementioned   abhors   forefront   hesitating   identical   creepy   possessive   screeched   gotcha   infidelity   friction   barrage   nonetheless   disparate   itchy   apex   gettysburg   lunchtime   pickup   muchas   then   and   trading   distinguishable   pitches   bunk   ven   ladylike   encompasses   diagrams   underlying   spaghetti   soccer   trashcan   papa   disarming   finalmente   clashed   rosie   smirks   snapshot   pug   songbird   spitfire   yanks   thankfully   mesa   flexing   virginia   effectively   variations   eclipses   tambien   outrun   incident   vitamin   willpower   underdog   hardboiled   miniscule   checkerboard   entrust   siento   heavyweight   davis   thyroid   foreshadowing   frances   heresy   starburst   deficiency   sawing   peruvian   leche   antithesis   villanelle   alliteration   hora   vivir   clacking   droopy   whizzed   britney   futbol   parameters   disney   mangos   disproportionate   orbiting   tanka   stubby   intro   listo   goldilocks   teamwork   pbj   exemplifies   rey   retainer   tenia   triples   espanol   estuvo   castillo   ferrying   suficiente   racecar   dorky   garganta   veo   julio   peripherals   labios   rojos   foreseeable   frito   groggily   venn   macbook   inanely   hubo   goofball   you've   she's   weren't   wasn't   we're   others'   you'll   should've   haven't   what's   you'd   they'd   man's   boys'   god's   woman's   fruit's   orion's   newton's   lincoln's   adam's   momma's   ******   jackson's   audis   dulces   disproportionately   charon's   deseos   avocadoes   hailey   eran   beatles'   ingles   he   she   it   rackets   --   hashtag   sixty-three   duct-tape   joysticks   sherman's   15   6th   32   500   7th   2013   extraño   barenaked   tamales   6-year-old   tierras   derpy   ewell   rom-com   themit's   adan   mudpits   puddlepits   war--hell   culp's   shitpits   completaron   chocolatada   levantanse   duraznos   n'sync   huevo   cholitos   levantaron   manzanas   endurece   wozniak's   dispara   nuez   open-endedness   innies   cankles   dunder-mifflin   tunks   buck-toothed   outies   grief-blown   a-gawking

Her hair was long, brown, and wavy, like homemade brownies.
Her eyes were different shaped blues, lighter than sapphires.
Whenever she blinks, I look forward to seeing those sapphires again.
Her teeth are perfect imperfections, retainer and all.
Her bite is one of love but packs a punch.
Her nostrils flare when angry but remain miniscule.
Her mouth a light pink, like Starburst, my favorite by far.
Her smile brings me back from the darkness every. Single. Time.
Her tongue is exotic and playful, and I long for it.
I have never heard her whistle, but I know it like the back of my hand.
Her laugh is intoxicating and contagious; I find myself acting the fool just to hear it.
Then she coughed and I patted her baby back.
Whenever those pesky headaches come, we lie still, thus foreshadowing what will come.
Our arguments are stupid, but they happen nonetheless.
Her neck is thin and ripe for the taking.
Her *******, much like Goldilocks: not too big, not too small, but just right.
Her spaghetti arms flail about when I act the fool, and then that precious laugh again.
Her elbows are full of cream, and you will never find them itchy like mine.
Her wrists are disproportionately large for her size, which makes her all the more unique.
Her handshakes are delicate. Ladylike.
Her long and skinny fingers were weird to me once, but they have contracted and fit perfectly between mine.
Her palms tell the future, and she has great things in store for her.
Her thumbs have no story to tell, positive or negative.
Her shadow is smaller than hers, but no shadow can overcome her.
Her cats keep her company, but luckily we found each other.
Her heart is as big as her brain, and thankfully they mutually agree on most occasions.
Her ******* are stumpy and droopy; this is no Snow White fairytale.
Her shoulder blades are tense but minute.
Her belly button (an innie, not an outie, not an Audi) never collects ****.
Her private parts pulse like her heart above with passion.
Her backside is small and smooth. She has no hourglass figure, yet she does, too.
She has no stretchmarks in my mind, but I have enough for the both of us, anyways.
Her whole system is that of a heavyweight fighter; she’s a little spitfire.
Her legs are perfect and skinny; she has “the gap”, not that it matters.
Her knees buckle and wobble in my presence. I should know: mine do when she is near, too.
Her ligaments reinforce her, much like her willpower.
She has the calves of a dancer, but she has not trained in years.
The ***** of her feet are poised, ready to spring into action to tap tap tap away.
Her toes curl against mine, in an attempt to hold hands.
I have never seen her footprints, and I have no intention of ever seeing them. Ever.
Her promises elate me since I know she is good for her word.
Her one-liners are worse than mine, and I laugh all the harder for it.
Her grin, or rather her smirk, warms my heart like a furnace in the winter.
The last time we spoke, it was mumbled in bed, a hushed goodbye for that awful biology class.

She is my rock, ever leaning forwards
with nothing but my Dunder-Mifflin shirt to keep her warm for the foreseeable future.

I told her, Te amo,
well before she was ready to say that inane phrase back in English.
Inane since words do not do it justice.

But then she broke my heart.

My hair was tearing at the roots, unable to stay attached.
My eyes were set ablaze with passion anger, if it weren’t for my sorrow to drown it out.
Whenever I blink, I see a snapshot of what it was, what it cannot be, what it will never be again.
My teeth were her favorite: buck-toothed and all, but that was when I smiled. They hide from you.
My bite isn’t nearly as big as my bark, but do not tempt me.
My nostrils have hair creeping out; it’s hard to keep clean after something like that.
My mouth is louder than all my thoughts combined, but I still can’t find the right words to say.
And my smile would be what brought her back from the darkness every. Single. Time.
My tongue, like my private parts, is limp and dead; phallicly flaccid, there is no passion here.
I have never whistled, but why should I learn now? I keep quiet to quell the roar.
My laugh is contagious, or so they tell me. It’s high pitched. Effeminate.
I cough. I get stares. My cough makes you uncomfortable. Your infidelity makes me uncomfortable.
Whenever those pesky headaches come, I lie still, and for a minute, just a minute, I die. I’m at peace.
Our arguments were stupid, but now there’s nothing left to talk about.
My neck is fat and swollen. **** my thyroid. This vitamin D deficiency is taking its toll.
My ******* are fat, but a momma’s boy would be: too much in the trunk, not enough under the hood.
My arms are as big as her thighs. We measured. Maybe it gave her peace knowing she was small.
She tells me I have a black woman’s ***, and elbows, to boot. Not enough cream. Not enough carrots.
My wrists are the cankles of my life.
My handshake is firm, but is it firm enough?
My short and stubby fingers claw upwards, desperate for air. Her hands are nowhere to be seen.
My palms have no future, and I worry I’ll follow suit.
My thumbs tell all the best stories when joysticks are underneath them.
My shadow eclipses me. It’s not how you feel, it’s how you function.
I’ve never owned a pet. Maybe that’s why I don’t feel possessive.
My heart was full of love, but the love spilled out when you broke it on Friday, December 6th – Saturday, December 7th, 2013, 5:00 AM.
My ******* are tiny and ***** from the cold. I feel the cold indoors, too.
My shoulder blades are dull and sagging with the weight of my world on my shoulders.
My belly button (an innie, not an outie, not an Audi) collects all of the ****.
My private parts, like my tongue, are limp and dead; phallicly flaccid, there is no passion here.
My backside is large and rough. Are you getting the point?
I have all of the stretchmarks, for I am her antithesis.
My whole system is that of down and out former has been; I’m all out of gas.
My legs are thick and fat; I suffer friction with my tree tunks.
My knees buckle and wobble in her presence; I’m weak around her because I’m weak.
My ligaments are partially torn, which perfectly exemplifies me: hanging by a thread.
I have the calves of a soccer player out of shape. Hashtag truth.
The ***** of my feet sting -- unable to carry two hundred plus pounds of failure.
I have finally seen footprints; I’m just glad they were mine.
Her promises mean nothing. My trust is shattered. My faith withdrawn from this or any other world.
My one-liners make everyone laugh but me; I know I mask the pain. Do they?
My grin was effectively wiped off my face when you told me.
The last time we spoke, it was on good terms. But how good are those terms with this double size?

I was comfortable, lazy, ever dependent on her
with everything in my life, especially that which she didn’t need to deal with.

I told her, You deserve to be dumped.
She nodded slowly, crying, and whispered back, I know. My hate described by inane words.
Inane since words do not do it justice.

Then, it hit me.

Our hair is fairly short together, not unlike our time apart since the incident.
Our eyes well up, and the only drowning I hope we get is of love.
Whenever we blink, I want to make sure that I am in front of you, and you in front of me.
Our teeth, much like our personalities, are disparate, and that’s okay.
Our bite is one of teamwork: you can’t bite with one row of teeth.
Our nostrils could use some work. Hair and flare rhyme, but neither fits in our time.
Our mouths chat chat chatter away. We have nothing to talk about. We have so much to talk about.
Our smiles are the reason why people find us cute, and they’re the reason why they were shocked. Let’s give them another reason.
Our tongues dance across language barriers. Mi español no puede vivir sin tu ingles.
We have never whistled. Finally! Some common ground (opposites attract).
We’ve been told that our laughs are nearly identical, like a choir singing in different pitches. Sing.
We cough together, because we know we can take care of each other.
Whenever those pesky headaches come, we take a deep breath, hold on tight, and move forward.
Our arguments ARE stupid. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Our necks are like the Happy Meal and the Super Size Me. I love to see us smile.
Our ******* are life; I don’t know what mine do, but I know yours will come in handy someday.
Our arms have their “things”; you have that birthmark, and I have unseemly hair growing everywhere.
Our elbows could be a rom-com: one smooth, one rough, but they can’t get enough.
Our wrists make sure our hands can keep us afloat.
Our handshakes are delicate but firm.
Our fingers latch onto each other, like a bear trap.
Our palms SMACK together when you high five me. Goofball.
Our thumbs are bound to get sore if we keep caressing our hands while holding onto each other. Raw.
Our shadows slink away when they see us shine so bright.
I hope to God that Rosie the pug is as derpy as your heart can take.
Our hearts have duct-tape all over them…it’s a work in progress, but bones get stronger when broken.
Our ******* are disproportionate. There, I said it.
Our shoulder blades dance across each other when we lie back to back.
Our belly buttons (innies, not outies, not Audis) keep us close to our moms; you’ll agree someday.
Our private parts tingle as we move in motion and rhythm. It’s been too long, mi amor.
Our backsides are like Venn diagrams: yours could easily fit in mine.
I have all the stretchmarks, but I hope you get them after birth someday. We share everything else.
Our systems are the underdog rising up, straight to the top; it took its time, and its chances.
Your legs could fit in one of my own. Please refer to the stretchmarks line.
Our knees buckle and wobble. Please refer to the private parts line.
Our ligaments have taken a beating, but somehow, there’s a strand holding us together.
We have calves of different passions, but we both know what the sweet sting of success feels like.
The ***** of our feet touch down as we’re back to reality. The honeymoon stage is over. Cloud 9.
Unfortunately, we’ve seen footprints, but I think they’re circling back around to meet up again.
This promise should be the last until the most important one comes up. This is it.
Our one-liners keep us close to our dorky sides. Honestly, something is probably wrong with us.
Our grins (or smirks) show that we can’t really stay mad at each other for TOO long.
The last time we spoke, it was yesterday night (or was it earlier today?), but I’m sure you woke up.

We ******* up. Admittedly you more than me,
but I digress: one mistake is not enough to throw away two years of work.

I forgave you.
You were elated. Let’s try this once more, with feeling!
I’ll inanely tell her again, *Te amo.

Every time people start to rise up, a whole buncha problematic mess gets thrown around regarding VIOLENCE.
So, what is "violence" really?... It's the use of force. Plain and simple.
What makes folks uncomfortable (who are otherwise comfortable in this system) is that UPRISING IS A SOMETIMES VIOLENT (read: forceful) REACTION TO SYSTEMATIC VIOLENCE: Yes, just like the Hunger Games...
Thus, there are many types of violence...
The fact that we are paying taxes that are funding the genocide and ****** of people of color (here and abroad) is violence.
People with guns (former slave patrols and overseers, now cops) who come from outside our community and treat our folks as criminals on the daily is violence.
Capitalism, i.e. wage/property/ecology-based exploitation in the name of profit is violence.
The fact that LA County spends more $$ than anywhere in the world on prisons and police is violence.
The fact that the US locks up more of its own people than any other country on record is violence.
US aiding/funding the genocide of Palestinians at the hands of Israel is genocidal violence.
From Congress, to the boardrooms, to the classrooms, from the gaze, to the unwanted touching, to the ****, to the pay, Patriarchy everyday, is violence.
A few people jacking some **** at Walmart or breaking a window is really minimal violence in comparison.
A couple people throwing **** at armed cops is not serious violence.
The idea of owning property that other must rent to live is violent.
Systemic, chronic, global insecurity in the form of material poverty is violence.
Wage slavery is violence.
Gentrification is violence.
The War On Youth, i.e. the School-to-Prison pipeline, and, thus the War-on-Drugs with its attending 76% recidivism rate in the prison-industrial complex, whose populations are disproportionately black males, is violence.
The fact that people can't go to the doctor and dentist, or eat food every day is violence.
Deportations are violence.
Homophobia is violence.
The world's largest global military that vaporizes people without due process in dozens of countries violating their biophysical and national sovereignty is violence.
The United States government sanctioning the ****** of non-white, but especially Muslim bodies across the world... is violence.

So, when you condemn violence, do you mean resistance?
Because there is a whole lot of violence you should be condemning instead.

Adapted from Emilio Lacques-Zapien

A list of words I cannot ever say
But I will have to say them every day
I am supposed to practice saying ice
Ice with spice and six o’clock
I will lie and say I did it all
But they all know my tongue will always fall

I googled it to find out what I do
My speech impediment is sadly true
I haven’t done anything about it since
My speech therapist gave me the final mint
I hated it, and it was all suppressed
But now I tell it, I always confess

I wonder if I do it without thought
Am I saying it right or am I not
And no one ever says a thing to me
(Except the boy I crushed on, that one week)
I don’t know if it changes who I am
But I’d still be better off talking like a normal man

It’s something that a lot of people have
But the harsher term makes me inexplicably glad
“Speech impediment”, now I’m special too
Deviancy just like my missing tooth

I always sing even though it sounds weird
Sometimes I avoid the words I’ve always feared
Not “just” the “sea” but “change”, “commotion” too
Especially when I read I’m conscious of how my tongue moves.
Not just that, but I spit and stutter
All my “spreading” is full of clutter
The judge says “Clear”, I have to try
But I could lose the debate, and feel like dying

I know I should grow out of it as a child
But habits stick after so many miles
Along with my disproportionately small hands
And legs and everything that makes me feel like no man’s land
Between a kid and the way I should be
At the age of seventeen
I wish it didn’t change who I am
(Is it just another reason I can't find a...)

(NaPoWriMo Challenge: April 24, 2015)

*The tendency for people to place a disproportionately high value on objects that they partially assembled themselves, such as furniture from IKEA, regardless of the quality of the end result.:

My press-board dresser is a found poem.
Partly not-me but traces of my DNA
all over the ideas of wood.

Pointing to it I say:
this is me, something more
than nothing.

It is my romantic grain to cherish this,
to value the mass produced artifice
alongside the singular sensation.

One. Many. Me. Them.
What’s it all worth?
Bullies of values poke us

to tears and craft and craftiness.
LA street art disparaged by NYC
fashionistas. Let us drill down

the spur of all gangland critique.
Face the mural as it lays. Park the car,
face the plane and listen

to what every one is saying,
even if it’s nothing but
a minute reclaimed.

Pain gets written around one's eyes  like eye liner, for all to notice
let it be known to all now, it's our prime entitlement, these days
"Citizen pain" has become our collective name for long, do we see?
by distributing misery disproportionately, they bestowed on us this glory.

From us it virtually generates,
a vivid dictionary entry form
it mimicks.
Gets to assess/anticipate storm,
bypassing sabotage
with emulation at its core
It clicks with us.

If one were to create
this paravessel
subject to pitfalls so critical,
its snappy truths would mislead
A whole review
that's faster than a line to read.

Does it mean that
i owe you nothing,
i still may dwell
on my valuable ****** experience?

These patterns seem
an oxymoron:
Efficient yet alarming.
If one were to contemplate
so peculiar a world,
Full of next-gen era
outlandish jobs,
Be based on this extrapolation
let it not.

I carry substance,
Although disproportionately,
Which you might overuse,
misjudge, or subjugate.
They meddle with it,
the tech-savvy reptiles.
We may further copypaste
and carry no substance
other than what we had
disproportionately created.

Amanda confidently made the first incision on the corpse, as she’d done many times before. Starting near the right shoulder, she pulled the scalpel through the layers of tissue down the middle of the abdomen. She bobbed her head as she worked, listening to Where Did the Party Go by Fall Out Boy. The pathologist turned away from the body and pushed her long black hair out of her hands with her wrist. Taking her gloves off, she turned the **** on her speaker. “My old aches become new again, my old friends become exes again…” She hummed the tune while securing her locks in a ponytail. Pausing, she picked up her phone and rewinded the music. She could have sworn she Patrick Stump sing the words, “Woah, where did the body go?” Listening closer this time, she started the song. “Woah, where did the party go?” played through the speaker. She shook her head and took another sip of her coffee.
She gazed at the ceiling, bright lights blinding her suddenly. “Jordan!” She waited for a reply. Nothing. She called again. Flustered, she sighed and looked over at the schedule pinned to the wall. Jordan wasn’t scheduled today, Amanda was the only one. “Then why did the lights- Never mind.” She was obviously just tired. Tugging on another pair of gloves, she picked up a pair of forceps and a scalpel and turned back towards the body. It was gone! She looked behind and underneath the table, thinking it had fallen. It wasn’t there. “****! How am I going to explain this to the family?”
“You can’t.” She jumped at the deep, gravelly voice. “Wh-who are you?” she asked with uncertainty. Amanda was too afraid to look him in the face yet. “That’s not important,” the voice replied. “We need you to come with us.”
“We?” She looked towards the direction of the voice. There were thirteen men in black suits with dark shades standing in formation at the door. “Why? Will you tell me where the body is?”
“Just follow us, ma’am. We’ll explain everything in the car.” She followed them out the door. The man who spoke led her to a black Range Rover with extremely tinted windows. Once they were in the car, the man introduced himself. “I’m Peter C. Schultz. I work with the MIB.”
“MIB? Like in that movie with Will Smith?” She sounded confused.
“Exactly. But we don’t get laser guns.” He smiled, hoping to earn her trust.
She laughed softly and looked out the window. “So was he an alien?”
“Possibly. The craft seems to have removed the body, sensing alien DNA in the area.” Peter looked over his shoulder, quickly pulled out of the parking spot and turned onto the highway. Amanda still wasn’t sure if she was awake. Aliens? MIB? A disappearing body? What if they had taken her instead? All types of thoughts swirled through her head.
They arrived at a large, nondescript building. She hopped out of the range rover and shut her door. The men lead her into the building and down the hall to an interrogation room.
“So, Ms. Browne, tell me. Did you notice any strange noises or lights at the time the body “Um. Yeah, yeah, uh, there was. I was listening to music and the lyrics sounded different. I replayed the track and it sounded normal. There was also a bright flash of light right before I noticed the body was gone. I thought it was my assistant, but they didn’t weren’t on the schedule.”
“We’ve heard of the lyrics changing before. The lights are different, they don’t usually come that close.” Peter sighed.
“Before? You mean to tell me people’s bodies have been stolen by aliens before? What the hell?!? Why doesn’t the government tell us these things?” She started to panic.
“Calm down, Ms. Browne. The MIB has it all under control. Amanda stared him in the eyes. “Really? Because there are BODIES missing! That doesn’t seem under control!” She was yelling at this point.
Peter took a step towards her. She continued to glare at him. All of a sudden, his eyes went black. Amanda was confused. This had to be a dream. A lizard like tongue flicked out of Peter’s mouth. Blood poured out of his mouth and dribbled down his chin. She screamed and tried to run. A hand with sharp long nails and slender blue fingers came up from behind her shoulder and covered her mouth. She was instantly silenced. Another hand pushed her back to her chair, the alien body pressing against her. She forcibly sat down. The hands let go of her. The terrified pathologist tried to scream but didn’t have the ability to even whisper. Peter’s form changed into a tall, blue, thin body with disproportionately long arms and neck. She shook from head to toe, when suddenly she heard a strange voice in her mind. It spoke in alien tongue but she could somehow understand it. It said, “Look into the mirror placed in front of you. Be terrified of what you see and know it is your truth.” With shaky hands, she picked up the piece of reflective glass lying in front of her. Bringing it to her face, she looked at the aliens and then herself. She stared back into cold black eyes. She opened her mouth and could see the lizard tongue curled up between her sharp, pointed teeth. She expected to be scared, but instead felt strangely content. She noticed a new hunger awakening from deep inside her. Amanda stood up and walked over to the aliens. Her own kind. She spoke in the native alien language she now had a name for, Kewalanaei. “Do you have anymore of the body left? I need flesh.” Peter grinned toothily and led her into a room where hundreds of bodies lay. They feasted.

so many wise sayings of the philosophers, so many maxims noted, and none, none, making it to a tombstone engraving chiseled missing curves of the ten epitaphs of sinai. so you know why the chinese were left budding atheistic, no pictorial with the chisel, but that's why the comic book district emerged there for a mango baton perfect slouch or slurry *****: ****** that *** and ***** in, i went to the classical gallery for the monkey, came out and wondered by the zoological a theology, it was all very strangely slow motion. but imagine chiseling some chinese pictorial into a grave, no wonder the chinese were not ousted with that diabolical proof of failure exposing a people to so many varying non-pictorial representations of the lip tongue and teeth – but as the title suggests… if nietzsche’s motto ‘god is dead’ is really true, then those ten commandments are really just ten epitaphs, and i don’t know who really died on the cross.*

being me, i'm no o'toole, or a richard harris,
my hell-raising stems from
the silence of bookworms gnashing on ink folds,
it's silent, it's "deadly," it's the sort of hell-raising
that accepts the nervous temple tension
of knocking with full blossom of the cracking knuckle;
and when i tell them i put a schizoid
element into my acquisition of the english language
they call my spiritual experience psychosis,
and when i tell them i was almost murdered
they tell me i'm depressed... and then?
o czym ty mówisz, ty głąbie kapusty?
because back "home" my prophetic honour is curbed
by my palette for beer being dębowe prior,
that's at 7%, and not a carlsberg: probably the
best ***** **** in the world;
unlike jesus enjoying all the fun in egypt and not
in babylon from where the magi came,
with old "rabbi" joseph telling him: go back to judea
and mingle with your people, remember what
the egyptians did to us, you dishonourable ******.
and so jesus went back, and the greeks wrote a translation,
while the romans bowed seeing some weather shamanism;
only yesterday it was raining buckets of rippling toads,
i concerned myself with wet clothes in the attempt to
***** up, said it would stop, turned an hour into a minute
and the rains stopped, notorious b.i.g. that isn't an acronym,
only notoriously f.a.t. (remember, the meaning
is in the subconscious, in consciousness the meaning
is scrambled egg & morse & braille).
by way of conclusion - exploring the man masquerading
before his mother, is in no way an assurance
of an abundant biography to testify with saliva juices
of conversation - unless the delusional irony is that
even though i'm not trying to get myself noticed,
i'm also not deluded to the point of not having existed;
but the chinese are safe though, complex pictorial phoneticism,
the latin alphabet took to strain, people went mad,
really wanted to see shaved baboon heads through
the googgles of emptied space after c. columbus
architected the jamaican slum boulevard; or maybe haiti suburbia,
whichever, the world grew smaller, and the universe expanded
disproportionately... on the telly!

Is it better to get more money? Let’s say that it is.
It is better to get more money.

Is it better – for the poor – if everyone gets more money, even if that increases inequality?
Well.
The right – who think they are Right – say:

Yes. Disproportionately rewarding the wealthy with wealth creates wealth and quality of life, which the poor can now afford.

The left – who think they are Right – say:

No. Disproportionately rewarding the wealthy with wealth creates wealth and quality of life, which only the wealthy can afford.

So who is Right?
Well.
Let’s answer that question with two more questions:

What does “quality of life” mean?
Is it better to get more money?

i am not just a pretty face and i am not just my sadness.
i am a question that has no answer.
i am a more than a collection of mistakes. i am a collection of words and photographs and more than a few good stories.
i am laughter and sarcasm and tears. a rebel with a forgotten cause.
i am compassion.
i am at once caring too much and too little. the world has never been enough for me.
i am forever picking up the pieces, forever apologizing even when i’m right.
i am a collision of mind and circumstance. a million bad memories set on repeat.
i am one long, sad requiem. i am the soundtrack to my days.
i am dismal, haunting images of regret. i strive to be part of the beauty around me.
i am a writer. i am a free mind with a shackled soul.
i am no one’s enemy and no one’s friend. i am alone and always have been.
i am jealousy and fear.
i am disappointment to myself and to those who knew me then.
i am a wrong turn and a snap decision.
i am selfish and guilty and i don’t know why.
i am unconvinced of everything. i am doubtful, disheveled, and disproportionately hopeful.
i am a creator of life and a healer of ills. i cry every day for what i’ve lost.
i am forever searching and i’ll never find it. i take comfort in the thought of the universe.
i am but a fleeting phantasm in this brief reality

I climb to the top of the mountain; it takes my breath away.
The pain in my lungs in my throat in my legs, it's all worth it
For that one sunrise or sunset or view or just sky and sky and sky,
Stretching up and up, farther than the eye can see, farther than the soul can reach.
The thorns in my feet from the desert trees are beautiful.
They let me know the sun has not won, there is still something stronger.
A red umbrella on a city street. Architecture, the wonderful kind,
The kind you can smell and taste and touch, endless interlocking triangles,
Windows that reflect and multiply and kaleidoscope the clouds.

Today, however, someone tells me that beauty is something different.
I am supposed to find it in photographs, in one immobile two-dimensional perspective.
Yes, the girl with the ruby lips has perfect proportions and smooth skin.
Yes, the waterfall is tall and the spray makes a thousand rainbows.
Yes, the black lines on the white page contrast perfectly, dramatically.
Beauty is a three-dimensional thing, an experience.
I am supposed to find it in photographs?

I love your laugh because it is imperfect;
Because your skin is freckled, your body less than impressive,
Your face disproportionately skewed when you smile,
Because you exist outside and beyond three dimensions,
You are beautiful.
So many things can be erased in photographs, like context
And subtext and imperfections. To take a photograph and make it perfect
Is to lie. I don't want to lie to you. I don't want you to lie to me.
Stop living life through a camera lens. Take off your rose-colored glasses and just see.

When over the rail bridge
on the sky autumn blue
clouds floated in cotton pieces

I longed for home.

The port light tower
and the masts of anchored ships
made me keen to reach home
like a sailor long on the sea
disembarking with dreamy eyes
thinking if at all is one home
a tender lip awaiting his sunburned cheek
or if he would retrace to the waves
and someone waiting was only in his head.

I was at Remount Road an old station
with home not really that far
and disproportionately small to my yearning.

I was making a brisk walk
and when at the door
fell into a reverie of
rail bridge
anchored ships on the port
white on the autumn blue
and the small station
Remount Road.

We fell all the time.
It was a matter of balance.
Our inner ears and eyes
Struggled with gravity; and
Being upright is our gravest concern.
So, we always stood again,
Revolving around equilibriums:
Bikes, ledges and feet;
Everything was a test. Everything needed balance:
Wheelbarrows, roof peaks and checking accounts.

I've learned balance for adults
Is even more precarious.
Our words are heavily weighted,
And some more disproportionately than others,
With see-saw issues and teeter-totter opinions.

Isn't it easier to get back on the bike
Than walk back unbalanced arguments.

She abstracts me from thinking in correspondence.

The symbiosis between us is an ilk drawn by oblivion and distaste.
My intellectual property in fact has been decocted by the thud of her voice, uninfluenced of her literal aphorism.
Her whimsicality disproves my goal of escape disproportionately, leading to an incontestable emotion.

My useless trickery disintegrates and I succumb un-admittedly.

She is the symphony to any verbal effect, the rhyme to an attempted haiku.
She is the immaterial love that brings me disruption and unprepared musings.
…

(homage to Ogden Nash)

See the buzzard soar, the swallow skim a lake, the kestrel hover;
observe the skylark pouring his little heart out in the sky;
admire the flapwing, lapwing flight of a flock of plover;
what birds do is fly.

At least they oughter,
because once birds get onto the water
they can't help looking absurd
– except the swan, for which nobody I know has an unkind word,
or, mostly, seagulls,
who fly with almost the grace of eagulls,
and in their silvery-white uniforms are impeccably neat,
even if my admiration for their manners is incomplete –
but, shucks,
look at ducks.

And for something really silly,
shaggy-winged, fluffy-headed, and disproportionately
                                                                ­                   neck-and-bill-y,
consider the pelican, for heaven's sake.
Surely Nature made a mistake,
or left the designing of it to a particularly inept committee,
it's so unpretty.
But once in the air he can soar like a buzzard, though maybe lower,
and skim over the waves with more perfect control
                                                                ­        than a swallow, and slower,
and dive for a fish like a living javelin, that clumsy pelican.
By helican!

No, for a shapeless, hapless caricature, created to be comical,
the epitome of what a bird shouldn't be, the penguin
                                                             must be the most epitomical.
As he does his impression of a Charlie Chaplin waiter,
you know he'll fall off the ice sooner or later.
But before a warning can escape your lips
he trips
(and slips).
Then, as he slides beneath the waves, ah! See the happy penguin fly,
A graceful bird in his greenblue underwater sky.

It's impossible to me
How you can't see
Or maybe just wont admit to me
That your attentions
Are divided disproportionately
It is what it is and
I am in no way green to what I signed up for
I am a grown woman
But I beseech you please
Don't lie about it
A pill is still hard to swallow
Even when called another name
Yet the unease and doubt
Just before it hits your stomach and after it leaves your veins
Cannot be chased
When words don't mirror actions
How do you plead your case?
That your actions are reaction to my action?
I guess we shouldn't admit your action creates my disposition
How about we just avoid the whole situation
And throw out the prescription

I can feel my patience
fading away
frustration with cold
and loud
and hot
and waiting
and hunger
I started tapping my
feet and fingers again
unrest for the weary
doubts and happiness
equally fleeting
disproportionately
resonating
through caverns
vast to hold
worlds
I have not maintained
patience falls ill
patience dies
patience waits for no one

Wishing you were anywhere
But here
Can be
A decent state to be in
If you can still appreciate
The kindnesses you're gifted
Without so much to part with
Or to donate foreign strangers
Who have been on the receiving end
Of their fair share of dangers
When displaced in distant
Destinations
Illuminations
Of the darkest spaces
All too often getting lost
In what I thought
Might find myself again
In Paradise’s cost
Another fortune
Disproportionately
My prerogative
Compared to millions out there like me
Who may have much more to give
Than take away
From every goodness sake
And goodest grace
The human race
Seems willing to embrace me with
Despite the dearth they make
A common trait among the masses
I am still content
To exploitate

Subconscious typing. Stream of Consciousness. Type streaming from source, rhythm or no, just keep typing. Fast fast fast. You can edit later.

Say what you mean, honesty really is the best policy

Make things disproportionately huge & cosmic or tiny microscopic personal. Be the soul telescope.

Relate to memory,  good times/bad times, unrelated action

Relate to the body/senses

Evoke ancient names and memories of forgotten gods

Appeal to primal self/instinct/latent human reaction to symbol & stimulus

"News from the edge" -- Report from the edge of the universe, tell the folks at home what's going on at the source

Praise things often, condemn things when they deserve it

WRITE

My Black is beautiful…to me.
It’s the beauty contained in my family tree
The spectrum of charcoal to milk of you and me.

Natural from inside or skillfully applied
Black experience is infused with pride.
Yet we are seemingly the only race
Encouraged to dismiss our history’s disgrace
Stories of riches, kings and queens
Reduced and treated as fairy tales and dreams

Black is not the look of hair texture or skin
Black is the connections of the past within

Whether Born on American soil or from island sand
The slave trade from Africa is where all our histories began
The curve in your hip, plump of your lip,
curl in your hair and skin not so fair
Are the influences of the ancestors that we all share.

The African Slave trade is where our histories began.
Torn from Mother Earth, distributed to complete a plan
Now this is not to take from others’ tribulations and strife
But this is the reality of the new beginnings of black life.

Brought to a land with no connections to the past
Sold into servitude relegated to sub-caste.
Followed by Jim Crow laws, which were given the right of way
The residual effects are still evident in present day.

Nonetheless, Black families fought to preserve with
values held dear.
Despite the ongoing atrocities they were made to bear.

But, something happened along the way to interrupt the advancement and flow
Black families came under attack from elements we all know.
****** and crack took the focus off the cause
They disproportionately affected black families, taking fathers with their laws
The residual effects, unseen for generations, so occult
Generational poverty would ultimately become the result.  

What we see today are images that depict limited education, family structure and despair
What we see today are the results of communities in need of drastic repair.
The Black Lives Matter movement is not an arbitrary pun
The movement speaks to the healing and work that has yet to be done.

The flip side of the coin depicts positive images of black people doing what we can do
These are the images people need also pay attention too.
There are many accomplishments that black people have brought to bear
Look around and there are examples of triumph everywhere.
Despite the strongholds of repression and strife
Black people have excelled in all aspects of American life
People who look just like you and me or members of your family
People who strive for advancement ... and just want to be.
With aspirations to stand up tall and remain unbowed
I am encouraged to be my very best and make my people proud

See, to be black is to take the bitter with the sweet
Part of a diverse people with love and devotion replete
It’s not a simple monolithic experience that we all share
Black experience changes for people everywhere.
So please don’t limit us by the depictions on TV
We are as varied as the branches on an old Oak tree.

I will never hold my head in shame or deny my family tree
For all the good and all the bad, my black is beautiful to me.

pandering to the lowest common
the red headed ******* brays into the void
faceless masses screech back from the darkness
begging to be fed again, shown light
offered dignity…but this day has not come
instead
the beast feasts on those least able to protect themselves
the laughter follows… --
pretentious preacher gargles wine
claiming the blood of Christ flows within him too
favored and chosen by god, we must obey whatever tomfoolery
this sociopath lays at our ingrown toenails
dried skin flakes away in the warm breeze
as displeased fleas flee the scene
no longer able to **** the impoverished blood
their hunger turns
refocusing
looking to those in power
and them which control wealth gap policy –
reptilian overloads bathe in the blood of Amber alert victims
drinking deep discontent and discord
while spreading disease through dog spit
…… my how the Americans love to give their puppies kisses on the mouth
The greatest nation pays tribute to the false image of evil incarnate
Some give this face to Obama,
others see it in the smile of Donald Trump, me,
I see it in the eyes of the apathetic child
too worried about the new call of duty game
to care if a flag means slavery
or black people are disproportionately shot by cops
to quantify, at my age, anyone under 25 is a child
sorry, youngin…  --
witnessing women liberate themselves so extremely
as to have ***** grown in laboratories
I hope unicorn women are in our future,
with big floppy black *****
surgically attached to their foreheads
this idea will certainly get them through that glass ceiling
as no one will stand in the way
for fear of being thrusted upon
by the new secretary …….
……….
Did I have a point? –

I am so disconnected, but equally as in touch.
I believe in everything within me, but still do not believe in much.
I understand if you wonder how that could be.
Maybe you will never know, detached from my frequency.  
I used to see it as an emergency when I would bleed these things
and no one would hear me.
My heart would panic like a manic depressant;
I was a maniac that didn't know how to stop second guessing all of these lessons.
I suppose it was my pride that halted me from living life alive,
instead of merely existing.
Things that kept on insisting, I kept on resisting.
I used to wonder why I was exhausted and still only desired to sleep...
Until I realized that my dreams were the only place I felt I could be free.
I was a dead tree living in the middle of a forest of blooming leaves...
And then the day came where I gained inspiration through the branches of the the trees
that were reaching out for me.
My dreams began to sleep on me;
So now, when I bleed, I want to give you something to read.
Then, maybe, you can see me times 3, as I reflect off a deflection of what you see me to be.
I mirror myself as the third person through these words.
I am even and odd; disproportionately birthed.
I roam with the heards,
but I fly with a flock of unheard birds.

This is my world...

- L.G

he Evergreen Deal (A Solution to Climate Change)
Parlor Talk: The Evergreen Deal
so how do we REALISTICALLY  tackle the behemoths of careworn luxuries inoculated by degrees of wavy insouciant myopia that is too heavily invested in insuperable aristocratic prerogative rather than far-sighted eleemosynary altruism carved indelibly into the priorities of a growing desperation among world powers to heal our society with pragmatism rather than quixotic charades of intensive mobilization beyond the snatches of rigorous logic that they often neglect poorly conserved energy? We do it by taking steps to limit our consumption of materials that contribute to pollution, incentivize recycling for all appliances and in many cases plan biodegradable packaging rather than the dross of the antiquated strategies of disposal but this is obviously a phased rather than immediate solution. Absolutely central to this bipartisan proposal is that we should facilitate the adoption of more aggressive enlistment of the smart prerogative of adopting electric vehicles and relying more heavily on Hybrid Cars and what better way to do this than be ensuring that the limited range of pure galvanized altruism can be met with an infrastructure that ensures that a vast majority of gas stations punctuated in urban necessity, rural rarity and suburban commonplace greatly sanctions the prerogative of an environmental conscience to swim in the luxury of fully-enabled cross-continent travel with a considerable marginal decrease of fossil fuel footprints. We should not also stoop to the economics of purebred Fossil Fuel cartels that have a vested interest in forestalling advanced leaps in Hydrogen Fuel and the enlarged traction of electric power that discounts the environmental hinderbaggle rather than enthuses the already fickle demand which thrives in undeveloped nations that America, Canada and Europe can find quicker ways to expedite the adoption of revolutionary technologies forestalled by venality.  We should also lean on renewable energy with moderate economic sanctions that deregulate the arena of clean energy with tax incentives and shift the burden away from fossil fuel consumption by using complex econometric contingency analysis and deft marketing strategies that provide advantage to communities that rely on clean energy with free market emphasis. We should also hold fair and equitable talks about the proportional distribution of pollution and provide recourse and almsgiving for countries because of economic laxities rely on fossil fuels too heavily that need international assistance. We should also limit our showers to 5-7 minutes a day to conserve water and avoid baths whenever possible. It should be no surprise to anyone that people like Elon Musk (an Andrew Yang Democrat) are indebted to the powerful barnstorm of the ‘Kanye West’ visionaries that recognize the integral need for a bipartisan stroke of compromise that streamlines a heavily subsidized industrial rampage that proselytizes the advances in electric vehicles to find more universal pragmatic application. The wiredrawn quixotic prerogatives of the benumbed aboriginal Green New Deal which became a walking Nielsen test to field the discernment of the people that jump without conscientious refrains or the rigmarole of a growing environmental congress is telling in its original reception among the United States Senate. “In the 116th United States Congress, it is a pair of resolutions, House Resolution 109[8] and S. Res. 59, sponsored by Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-NY) and Sen. Ed Markey (D-MA). On March 25, 2019, Markey's resolution failed to advance in the U.S. Senate in a margin of 0–57, with most Senate Democrats voting "present" in protest of an early vote called by Republicans It is clear that the environmental scourge that is the watershed of such decisive age in an epoch of demassified balkanization deserves a worthy emulation of the bipartisan ideals that harmonize the exigent efforts of reform without plastering the pretense of excessively gouged ******* that is a faltering malice of rudimentary extremism rejected by the vast majority of the discerning.
Greta Thunberg is admirable but the quixotic “Green New Deal” is too drastic for our economy to bear and it will create duress and potentially tank the economy because it is drastically overweight and an encumbrance on relatively free properly micromanaged and macromanaged economies that fuel speculative booms and provide bonanzas for inventive ingenuity in the arena of conservation science. We need geotechnic optimization on a global scale that asks of the people but does not mandate them to use providence and husbandry without asseverating ridiculous ploys to curb necessities like air travel and agricultural waste from cows like Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez suggests. We should create infrastructure projects but ensure that they mobilize proliferative on a moderate scale (that doesn’t ruin the private sector or indebt our nation too much with a debt burden growth) rather than boondoggles of stagnation that provide decent wages but only marginal gains in our strategic leverage to mobilize our resources with celerity tact and central command. We should consider multilateral agreements with the world that address these issues with dedicated science at the forefront of the vanguard propagating renewable energy and, in some cases providing means for nuclear power in areas that are not seismically vulnerable and well-contained. Nevertheless my heavy suspicion is that Donald Trump (in a widely jeered move misunderstood by many but obvious to the delegated diplomats more privy to the tertiary aims and secondary burdens lopsided against United States commitment despite the fact that the majority of the rambunctious ramshackle pollution is propitiated in a benumbed negligence among countries that should find more reasons to be obligated to a fairer agreement that doesn’t shortchange the United States) I firmly believe Trump withdrew because he realized a global problem was being levied with intolerable onerous burdens of an extremely lopsided bureaucratic mismanagement of a problem that needs to be shifted to many countries with a greater fairness in shared moral duty to carve a prosperous environmentally-centered priority.
The future starts here with us right now recognizing that we need to be smart but not hasty in development of deliberatively expedient by gradually phased geotechnically sound architecture and greenhouse farming in urban regions that can create urban forests for both verdure and pulchritude. Nevertheless because of corporate demands there should be zero impetuous mandates placed on any major corporations, but minor subsidies should be provided to encourage global outcomes. We will be greatly enhanced if to the Amazon and Africa (which needs some leveraged aid) to provide the leverage necessary to combat the aleatory vagaries of conflagration by creating fleets of airplanes armed with powerful agents of extinguishing chemicals that don’t endanger the topsoil even though most are proven innocuous.
The best way to secure a clinched future is to prevent unwieldy economic factures that obvolute the problem by departing too drastically from a free market model that emphasizes designing non-ergonomic structural models for architecture and infrastructure and to ensure that the process of recycling is a net decrease in emissions by streamlining the recycling process over the course of the next four to eight years. Heavy polluters and chemical factories need stricter oversight especially in their reckless pollution of the worlds oceans and rivers and the sanitation system needs a decades-long gradate overhaul so that waste matter doesn’t contaminate the biosphere to the ultimate tragedy of degradation and rancid squalor. Ultimately CFCs are a big menace and certain chemicals contribute more heavily to ozone depletion which fuels the iterative cycles of deglaciation. Another necessity is that we mandate all major geographically distributed gas stations provide electric recharging stations so that electric cross-country car travel is more feasible incentivizing electric cars to reduce emissions. We should also create infrastructure projects in California to create high-speed rail by 2030 so that there is less car-bound cabotage on the west coast which is heavily overpopulated and profligate in their ostentation of rugged individualistic twinges that celebrate bulk and garnish the varnish of luxury but falter in their commitment to a beatific world. This will create needed jobs for the growing population of California and benefit everyone by reducing the air travel burden for local flights. We also must be wary of solvents and aerosols which damage the integrity of atmospheric conditions that could aggravate the greenhouse effect disproportionately for even small-time polluters and this problem is easier to tackle than the global imperative for expedited solutions to mobilize the economy in an efficient way without being too quixotic. Remember, however, some countries in Asia like India need more incentives to stop using fossil fuels because 14 out of the top 15 most polluted cities in the world are in India and their population boom could spell a disaster unless we provide diplomatic synergistic agreements to stem the tide or reckless over-pollution in urban mega cities in developing nations. Once we realize that the United States is not the only problematic nation in the climate change frenzy, we will realize that we need a global quorum to advise synergistic solutions without resorting to excessive taxation. Ultimately one of the best ways to address this problem is to provide incentives for India which is already a nuclear nation to start building nuclear power plants in a phased solution that can be abetted by reducing tariffs and macroeconomic incentives for a quick solution rather than a protracted endangerment of the climate. China is already working diligently to solve this problem, but more attention is needed in some megapolises in China to work for climate solutions with the rest of the world. Some suggest a Carbon Tax, but I am somewhat opposed to the idea unless it is managed carefully and not greedily by tumescent governments looking for a quick bonanza. Ultimately the easiest way to fix the climate crisis is to be very careful about chemical disposal and ensure that aerosols are widely contained with proper ventilation systems that are occluded from affecting atmospheric conditions. This can be done in a stepwise and methodical manner that does not put a burden on the chemical industry but rewards them for slightly stricter standards gradually evolving into sustainable solutions. We don’t need to mandate every gas station to have electric charging but at intermittent geographical intervals there is a necessity to have electric charging stations because they become redundant in urban areas while incentivizing electric and hybrid cars. The United States is not the main contributor to climate change and we can’t eliminate all emissions especially when they are vital to economic security, but these other measures will ensure a better future. Obviously the fossil fuel juggernaut is opposed to many of these reforms but because we exist in a world of sad conveniences that exasperate the mercurial conditions of a world endangered by the potential 22nd century mass migration of those from Bangladesh and the American South we must view some statistics with skepticism while becoming fully invested to prevent a Wall-E world because pollution is not merely a predicate of environmental debauchery but a needed imperative of biodegradable solutions and streamlined recycling that doesn’t incur such heavy energy costs in the rigmaroles of its process. Obviously partisan Republicans worry about Coal Power but such a marginal plucky insistence upon West Virginia in the need to pander shouldn’t outweigh a more global mission to educate the global populations that need to become more conscientious with an expansive conscience that many developing world mistakes require subsidized (potentially to safer degrees that aren’t an excessive drainage) solutions so that bipartisan sheen of a syncretic reform achieves a mobilized objective to restrain the scourge of pollution and inculcate (to the extent that exasperated sophistries designed to instill imperative lies of looming immediacy) the world to become more respectful of their Carbon Footprints. The easiest solutions to heal lie in chemical waste because over time these elements do not degrade and they infiltrate the Ozone Layer and are easier to phase out. The Evergreen Deal tackles many exigent problems and is not riddled by insufficient extremism but moderate bipartisan appeal. In addition we should mobilize fire brigades in every Western European country yet inured to sweltering heat that they might be better outfitted. We should abandon plastic bags and make the world geotechnic in biodegradable solutions

Two men were talking to God you might even say they were  praying both askeded for the same gift; vulgarly known as filth lucre-money.  Gods told them that they each could have their prayer answered but   they would have to decide whether they would put their faith in luck or merit.  The First said I am a democratic man I hardly can bear to to think I am better than any other so my choice is luck.  The second said well it hardly seems right that an undeserving man should be disproportionately rewarded,no that is not at all just.  I will put my faith in merit.  The gift was given to each and each retained his own conceits but when the wind from God blew and  nothing remained of either of their fortunes  All is Vanity- Nevertheless for Love' sake I shall fear the  Lord who gives me peace.

I’m a chiliagon, a rubik’s cube -
Not to be unriddled or unwound
I’m a disproportionately curvatured polygon; too spiritual to be mathematized
I am art, not the artist, and I have transcended my pain and fear because I walked with them in darkness, in depth, to understand not to conquer them
I am a mirror of mosaics and I have reorganized my pieces so many times trying to make sense of how they see me and I’ve learned that they only see themselves
Because we are all teachers and students and
There is so much to learn
About ourselves
Through each other
So open your eyes
And walk with me
Through this great life of self-reflection
So that we may understand
And transcend
These bodies that ground us

The bold cupola at his summit reflects
neon lights from bulbs above, crowned
by precious thin silver hair, barely cascading
over a wide and wrinkled forehead.

Two dense detached bushy arches linger
to their original dark brown tone, only a few
white brow hairs are longer, magnified by opaque
thick lenses of plastic orange glasses,

resting on a disproportionately big red nose,
outshining round green eyes in venous sclera.
Falling cheeks of sad old dogs, Dumbo ears
hearing only through pale hi-tech gadgets.

Rotten teeth, some lost to empty spaces,
concealed by infolded arid purple lips,
in the midst of an unshaved beard tobacco
stains, where arch crumbs hide in disguise.

A bloated stomach denotes long lasting
faithfulness to a wife married ages before,
a ring castrating a swollen left annular
as he speaks on an archaic phone.

Dressed in an azure shirt meticulously
ironed, beige corduroy trousers, a maroon
jacket on his forearm, a worn out bowler hat
on the counter. I stare at his hunchback.

He stirs his coffee for much longer
than necessary in search of eye contact,
someone physical to talk to, furtively
swallowing a tablet or two gulping water.

Bringing his handkerchief to the mouth to be
proper, he drinks the boiling hot Italian brew,
with an air of surrender as drops inevitably fall
on his nice and shiny polished burgundy shoes.

-Relax
-Calm,be calm young one

I heard the strangers voice, and having no frame of  reference with which to originate myself within my surroundings, I readily took heed to these soothing words. Only to soon find my senses entirely overwhelmed as my mind and my body caught up to each other at the same moment. Feeling the most unusually bizarre sensation of having been just previously located fully within my mind. Panic set in as I found myself naked on some distant planet who's surface was composed disproportionately of foose; extremely fine grained sand. The only feature that stood out in any way was the stump of an obviously dead tree. The stranger ,who I realised was actually seated crossed legged and floating some 6 - 8 feet above the barren surface of the desolate moonscape. He continued to re-insure me of my safety and I was in no danger. I had started to hyperventilate and grew ever so close to losing my vision .When the stranger reminded me that breathing was not necessary in the journey we were  sharing and was he was going stay with me to ensure my trust guarantee, my return to my  body I had  known prior to this remarkable experience.

One day i had a detailed look
at a 24 inch machine scale and
pondered some new ways to
relate to the sizes of things

some "inch" scales are in gradients of
decimals and i see them divided into
tens, those tens in turn divided to
even smaller tens, thus~

1.00 =    1               inch    
0.10 =    1/10  th    inch    
0.01 =    1/100th    inch    


1/100th of an inch is very small but i see
certain things that my mind can measure,
like the size of the Earth— a little less than
eight thousand miles in diameter.

i can see a mile, but not thousands,
so my magic scale says:

1" = 1,000 mi, thus
Earth = about 8"

i imagine holding Earth in my hand
like a small beach ball, then i figure
that the moon is about 2 1/4" big.

how far away is it, i wonder ?
let me grab a tape measure :)

given what i have on hand, now there
is a basketball and a tennis ball lying
some 20 feet apart from each other
in the back yard

i look upon all this and fathom it in—

but this vision now zooms upon my "Earth" ball
with the scale situated conveniently next to it.
detailing the texture of its surface, my eyes
become disproportionately larger than my brain—

observing the Space Station
cruising about 0.15 above it,

the clouds hovering at 0.01,

and further still through the winds of upper distances,
descending between the smallest of lines to my
mere figment of a presence at
1/100th the size
of this tiny
period
dot
.  

— leaving me to wonder how
i could possibly have even
glimpsed all of this—

from way down
                              Here...

"Scale"
© 2020 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved