Decisions
Eanie meanie minie mo
one can not decide like so
your past is gone, let it go
eanie meanie minie mo

We think they were childish games to play
yet it tells our future each and every day

Its a 50-50 shot
you could go ether way
But there is no turning back

One step in the wrong direction and you are done for
Because the key was thrown into the ocean that could only open the locked door behind you

Like hot lava
A playground game
If you stumble off the side and landed in that hot firey pit of lava you were done for

That ocean where the key was thrown into has turned into a nasty green
The waves and seaweed churning under the dark stormy sky
This is not a message in a bottle but more of a lost man at sea

Every stepping stone could result in a broken heart
A bruise
A forgotten friend

One wrong decision could cause a prodigy to die

Like ******
His Mother almost got an abortion
Her family told her over and over to just go through with the pregnancy
She probably tossed that decision back and forth in her mind
But her family won the match

If she had decided to go against her family I wonder where society would be today

Would there be dozens of Einsteins?
A million Madonnas?
Would there be a cure for all the cancers?
For the common cold?

Every judgement is a puzzle piece
Every step you take back or turn in the unexpected direction is another step towards your fate

Everything matters
If you had gotten one more gallon of milk you wouldn't have run out so you wouldn't have gone to the store and meet your best friend there so you wouldn't be going to that Zumba class

Then you wouldn't have met five of you new best friends and your husband

All of that for a jug of milk

Screaming
What's the use----??
Flower of the Graces
"The Tenth Muse"
"Everyday Use It"
The earth revolves
Around the sun

Minerals Love it
Drink it vitamin C
Mass of energy A-B-C
The gravity every day
We cannot use it_
Became the play money
Copied tainted not the
Bee's honey here's
The everyday economy

One lick of hope the
envelope not much
company
Everyday- Einsteins
Big profit scope

The brainstorm Reign
All signs detour cabin
Choo Choo train caboose
You nailed it the moose
One footloose
The one-man show

Two women know
The odds to their
advantage
Someone is the traitor
Mom is the Tailor
The zigzag lines
Crazy cat felines 

"That's It"  punctuality,
Use your capability
"Technet Technology"
take a walk favorite park
Shiba Inu rollover
The bad ones the
Millionaires homes
flip over the do
or dare

We cannot pay
NYC token fare
Words are our power
For Sale quick sales
Being sold
Too hot whats cold
Those emails trying
to delete

(More casualties
Tombstone mummies
Democracy leading us like
dummies chewing Bear
Valentine gummies)

Like the "Elephant Stampede"
New Orleans parade
Every day please donate
We never know about
our fate too early or late
Every day new Providence

Demon computer virus
Love comes with confidence
Love yourself and Venus
Apples and oranges minus
Use it You have a voice!!!
City clean up cockroaches
Swap your fake Rolex

Watchtower index
Trump tower complex
"Eiffel Tower Use It" to be kissed
Every day we need to cleanse
The "Godly Shower" be blessed
Practical Everday Use It
Magical write poetically
Precisely the right piece puzzle

You are the one
World it's you to dazzle

If distance were a metaphor,
its synonymous yet factual depiction would be itself.
Its shear complexity stretches over multitudes,
and from its belly flows rivers of emotions;
anger, frustration, regret sadness and not forgetting self realization.
Inadvertently it separates people and yet brings them closer.
Without doubt it's an enigma of life, call it Einsteins quantum theory of light.
Until one can comprehend the subliminal message deeply coded in the core of this phenomenon,
and without hesitance decipher its elaborate meaning,
one has no choice but to matriculate into it's class and take it's lesson.
Call it school of hard knocks 101.

we may be the generation
of the next
shakespeares,
curies,
vernes,
einsteins,
akeleys,
sagans.

h­ow can we be boiled down
to a 'standard'?

and when we refuse to stomach
this diluted broth you have served us,
it is force-fed:
teargas for forks,
riot shields for spoons,
tasers for knives;
until our tongues are so awfully burnt
that all we may say is this:

'we are the standard generation.
we are the future for the past.
we have standard answers to extraordinary problems.'

leaders say change will come in
2014,
2015,
2020,
2030,
2050,
please ensure that the numbers on your booklets
match those on your answer sheets.

we will bubble 'a' for global warming,
'b' for the debt crisis,
'c' for war and famine,
but this is a test we didn't study for.

Melting under this Plastic World,
Mickey Mouse is a rat that ate the poison,
I feel this wave coming over me,
riding the tide like I'm Poseidon,

totally sick of this circus like Icarus,
flying dangerously close to The Sun,
I'm high in a high rise on syd in Sydney,
like Midas my God what have we done,

it's as if,
everything we touches turns to gold,
invested in,
IOTA last week this week it's up 10 fold,

BitCoin hit 15k,
here we go we're on our way,
bought in out of fear of getting left out,
like a cat in the rain,

feeling like a cannibal animal,
every dog has it's day,
working to the bone like a bog,
& we all want our $ at the end of the day,

when the work’s done,
everyone's gonna wanna get paid,
feeling mixed up in the middle,
half way between a master & a slave,

what a mess we’ve made,
& I’m not blaming any particular one,
I’m just saying collectively,
this feels like the eulogy of,

a civilization that's time has come,
& is almost done,
& yeah we might lose it all,
but at least we had some fun,

& oh what fun we’ve had,
but who'll be left to clean up this mess,
because all the cool kids have gone,
& you're the only one left,

like the morning after the party,
sunrises are never the same as sunsets,
had some fun times last night,
but this morning you're such a wreck,

sometimes only at crunch time do you find,
our failures disguised as accomplishments,

now who’s left behind to pay enough mind,
to clean up our post bliss mess,
not snotty nosed spoiled rotten rich kids,
who got gassed up on daddy’s cash,
they're crashed out at their pad now,
but we both knew they wouldn't last,

passed out on dad's couch,
can always tell the future from the past,

everyone’s,
acting like an ***,
jockeying in position,
for some corporate kick backs,

but if or when you get them,
they come along with a guilty conscience,
then tell me what good is that,
seems all these facts are just nonsense,

I mean really what good is this,
what good are all these words,
I guess these words are only worth,
whatever a words worth is really worth,

which at this point,
feels worth about as much as dirt,
but at least it's that good dirt,
that Mount Agung before it bursts,
that fertile volcanic soil,
that Mother Love from Mother Earth,

sure,

you might think you’ve got it figured out,
or at least you thought you did,
& now you see what’s coming now,
& the mess we’ve made of all this ****t,

the drama we did with no apologies,
no apologies nor compliments,
no honor for the Honor Rollers,
nor for our awkward accomplishments,

and all I want to know,
is where the Hell honest went,
'cause all these dollars & all this power,
at the end of the day amounts to zip,

zero,
no heroes,
& as it turns out,
all of our idols are weirdos,

how's we go,
from Einsteins to Weinsteins,
from talking out our feelings,
to just replying with “I'm fine.”,

from Greek Gods to Mickey Mouse,
from Orwell's Animal Farm to Animal House,
from Mozart's 'Requiem Lacrimosa',
to Baha Men's 'Who Let The Dogs Out',

how'd we get from then,
to where we are now,

& you only want to talk about the weather,
or anything else that doesn't matter,
instead of what's really on your mind,
& how it's all almost over,

talking about what's for lunch,
while the world floods & burns,
not trying to be too negative,
just trying to help you learn,

because I know you think I'm cool,
but really I feel hot as Hell,
is it just me or is it hot in here,
is it just me or does nothing feel real,

like a Barbie girl in a Barbie world,
all dolled up & wrapped in plastic,
like I'm at at Disneyland on acid,
only about an hour & a half in,
& already I'm having a bad trip,
stuck on a boat on a fake mountain,
it's a joke that they call it magic,
trying to slow as everything goes faster,

but I'm not at Disneyland,
I'm just in a high-rise on syd in Sydney,
looking at the man in the mirror like MJ,
thinking I don't know that man who is he?

MMelting under this Plastic World,
Mickey Mouse is a rat that ate the poison,
I feel this wave coming over me,
riding the tide like I'm Poseidon,
totally sick of this circus like Icarus,
flying dangerously close to The Sun,
I'm high in a high rise on syd in Sydney,
like Midas my God what have we done.

∆ LaLux ∆

from The Sydney Sessions
available for FREE worldwide 12/12/17

Enclosed by arbors of armor - Celery trees
But once lightning struck, one split like a banana
This violent wind moves leaves like meteors
Spiders cling to their structured creations
Feet sink like quicksand in a swamp
You let the earth’s tears heal your grief which made you wild and ravenous
It falls like the nauseating thud of a body but keeps falling until you marvel and turn yourself inside out
It falls like a fleet of soldiers dropping from a parachute cloud
It transforms the rotten into Einsteins
It puts a spark in your *****
The blinding shield of water makes your mind zig-zag between moist and dry places
Up and down the twisted staircase and up and down again
Nostalgia kills but you forget rare flavors of memories
In the storm, you learn to breathe
A burning heart is cooled and cleansed
Sorrow returns only when the sun shines in
And you find yourself a wet dog surrounded by tiger lilies

I am weary of theory
and  need  to practice some facts but my theory is laid back whilst my practice is backed up and I need to  separate the will from the want to,the need to , yet can't do.
There is a circus inside me and the clown cannot bide me, inside the cannon you'll find me,a shot in the dark.
There is no theory for that and Einsteins equations fall flat as the big top gets taller and I seem to get smaller,so I do what I can't do and will what I want too but I see right through me into another identity and I pity the theory that tries to get near me..

This Christmas we want a cure for Cancer,
Cancer, that grave callous dancer,
We've all been touched by Cancer's Grim Reaper,
This a malady that has no barriers,
This Christmas we want health and happiness,
Young Einsteins, it's your issue to address,
A cure for Cancer would surely bless,
That's what we want to say,
F.U. Cancer, begone by Christmas Day.

Some say the Singularity comes in '45
some, not the name of a movie made;
Einsteins can sing till kingdom come, but
why there should be one, some can't fathom!
But for me, this is real,
every when you walk past then,
my heart rate's on Richter scale,
Singular girl, on orthogonal lane!
There must be those spaces
called Calibi-Yau, or I get and gone how?
Hidden dimensions that don't exist
except in those, your dimpled frowns?
I know now, our branes don't meet,
but while you want to differentiate
and love that done partially more,
at the horizon, calculus is mess!
Gravity girl, don't make me loop
this quantum dude, let it emerge,
the whole thing, all am asking
is for a meeting!

from an eighteen year absence as I stood staring into the silver surface
awaiting the appearance as she would once again  part the mirrors glaze
sudden thrill of foreboding anxiety passes across me as ribbon of silk lace
or that momentary nostril flair when a sudden snare of rarified air plays
havoc on the ancient receptors nearly forgotten as aromatic sprites pass
along those corridors memories reside and sometimes hide behind doors of this maze
awash in the dusty overlay of that which still seeking to delay realities consistently amass
when a graphic form of de ja vu breaks thru passing and suddenly does appear
as calm still silver slightly shivers then parts to deliver the hand and then humanistic form
to reach for the rounded edge of porcelain solidity gasping in  oxidized atmosphere
i watch decades lost disappear as if only yesterday i stood here and again this the norm
in wordless anomalous aplomb i watch her face apperceive my image as i etch the scene
so intent upon my scrivener scrawl in my rush to capture all onto my minds private wall
that only in the faintest of my subconscious can i recall the echo call my name as she covered all distance between
attaching herself in ways far beyond the physical bond and thru time uncertain beyond the curtain we fall
tumbling into that void where nothing exists outside that infinitesimal moment of infinity
with the eventual return to the constraints passing back thru the curtain and time certain reapplied
once again the prisoner of the laws of time space and the reality of gravity
plans made to meet later to catch up with those details with smile i say thank you for that ride
her eyes twinkle and i know with absolute certainty she understood exactly what i meant
that is why she said i still do this everyday as i am addicted to that moment when Einsteins laws don't exist
then with laughter she denied me an answer to the question on my face later she said and up she went
so i paused at the door to watch her grace from a hundred feet high she bounced and leaped into the air then i saw  what i had just missed

for there she was not going up and not coming down  suspending all physical laws and she was unbound  weightless and free and addicted

and right then i had to admit to myself ....i was a bit jealous but nowhere  near as brave as i watched her reenter that mirror.

Science,
Something that does not make sense,
Hey it is the core of our survival,
It tells us about,  
How we once were  an animal,
And how we have the advantage of doubt,
It explains gravity,
And einsteins theory of relativity,
It also explains,
About chemicals that cause pain,
Or make artificial rain,
But if it weren't for science,
We'd still be apes,
Losing our minds

Reading Journal #1

Rummage a book
I’m done bulldozing
about how much I
kaleidoscope textbooks.
Pick up Exodia and
obliterate me to the
shadow-realm
(Get to point? Ok.)

Reading Journal #2

Syllables
Gibberish.
Lectures
Syllables.
ZzZz
Gibberish.
9/5 work

Reading Journal #3

I’m scrabbling syllables to
strut them like drag queens
I’m bored out of vulture-brains.
I got ******-fingers
I rummage up a ****-hole
like college ****-stars.

Reading Journal #4

****
****.
Lectures
College.
****
??
Newton.

Reading Journal #4

Do you read Britannica Dictionaries,
an alligator of an FAQ?
It Einsteins verbiages like ****,
man and s u c k s
I’ll add abbreviations the next time
I scribble average joe mean-girls-esque
diaries.

Reading Journal #5

…Awkward,
I don’t remember writing
this Morse code doggynote.

tree stumps burnt black
no koalas in sight
only tracks
and charred embers
of nature’s wrath

indigenous insight ignored
to dingo’s demise

what does a bushman know
that lord sydney doesn’t?

surely, the conquering clan
and its bellicose band of einsteins
hear the kangaroos’ scream
from the smoldering
ledge
of extinction

a choking ode
to imperial exuberance

~ P

one of those beautiful nights...
    there's absolutely nothing to write...
memories keep flooding in:
coagulating, constipating me with
inactivity:
    perhaps this comes off as a complaint:
sure... a complain of a workaholic-alcoholic
nights like this i wish my wages weren't
stalled by 2 months and i could
take the bus to the brothel and
snuggle...
            pretend that smoking cigarettes
gives you the limp when it fact
withdrawing from smoking and then
a cigarette during ******* reignites
passions...
          lazily: oh too lazily...
                    perhaps reading some Ovid might
help... i need to finish his ****** poems
before i take to Zhuangzi all the more seriously:
i tried doing what some people do:
reading several books simultaneously...
at least today one thing came close to
an intimate contact with a woman...
8am sharp... at the hair-dresser...
  her floor-sweeper brought in her puppy...
such tender hair... cocker-spaniel...
i picked him up and snuggled her
before sitting down in a chair... closed my eyes
and talked blah blah this... blah blah that...
my hairdresser already knew my passion
for cycling: she recently picked it up...
then breakfast back home...
  and two decent hours spent watching
the world championships in athletics from
Oregon... then bottle recycling...
then... ooh... at my most "*** starved"
i conjured up the idea that getting a beard trim
is almost on par with oral ***...
i still think so... it certainly beats a haircut...
and no one does it better than a Turk...
by the end of it i looked like i slimmed 5 kilograms...
which was great: my cheeks and neck could
breathe again...
i just sat in the chair without talking...
just the casual hello... and he already knew
what i wanted...
                          i must have one of those
faces you can't forget... or one of those faces
that's familiar... or one of those faces you want
to punch... but i didn't ask for a hot towel...
i've never seen anyone of English heritage
get a Turkish towel treatment...
a menthol infused towel gets placed over your
head only exposing your nose to breathe...
while the barber turns to massaging your arms
and hands and fingers...
maybe i should go visit a massage parlour
for real... it's only half the price...
and i might just feel that much better than having
to pretend i'm competing for "something"...
beside my own egoism...
then again: and you will know the difference
between good AND evil...
              clearly i'm not the one to know...
it's not a clear-cut case of GOOD or EVIL...
the terms diffuse from their absolute pyramid
scheme into the subtler matters of the mind...
i can feel: negation-prefix-action:
i can feel: DISgust (disgust)
  i can feel: disagreement
              i can feel... disingenuousness....
as it stands? there no good or bad...
there's: THAT and DIS (phonetically THIS,
since THIS is not implying theta...
    for that? a missing T... i.e. fist)
                  women's Euro finals on the 31st
of this month... get paid on the 1st...
i still don't know why of all the people employed
around the same time as me
i'm the only one with an employee status
while everyone else is self-employed...
writing invoices...
someone working this job for 12 years
asks me why i've been made a supervisor after
no qualification being granted for me and having
only worked: since last December...
    maybe my grandfather taught me something
more indispensable than anything "said"
person might learn...
i want a heart of emptiness...
              i want the wind in my heart
with an easier beat to the sometimes: thumping of
my head as nothing comes knocking
in a manner that's: wake up thinking...

ah! now i know what prompted me to write
something today... my father was getting
a haircut prior to me...
i stalled my "styling" sessions by ordering
a can of Fanta and a white coffee two doors down...
i sat down at a table outside the cafe
and downed the can of Fanta...
bad idea... it was the first thing i ingested
in the morning... i finished it... started smoking
a cigarette, started drinking the coffee...
opened the newspaper an skimmed reading
news: eh... the world? same old... same old...

die welt: gleich-alt... altgleich...
"quizzical" and at the same time queasy...
i need to feel better...
i'm not going to pretend to feel better by just
sitting there trying to keep it all in...
this article prompted me:
Janice Turner: Soldiers should not be buying sed
anywhere...
i need to puke my guts out...
so i walk across the street and enter a cornfield
and start puking my guts out...
this bright orange mix of phlegm and bubbles...
ooh... release... now all i need to do is
grab a loaf from my *** while sitting on the thrones...
how i managed to sit through a session
of hair-cutting i will never know...

the day ended with me watching French women
batter the Dutch women at football:
deservedly...
so hold on: because this article stuck with me
for the entire day...
if soldiers should not be buying *** anywhere?
what about civilians?
i started thinking about the alternative reality...

women have all the agency in the realm of ***...
right up to the point of being the ones favouring
infanticide: she sleeps with a loser...
gets pregnant: termination:
because the "loser" is not geared up to shackles
and commitment of... whatever...

"research" shows trading money for consent
reduces empathy:
so does meal-tickets... dating...
trading free meals for *** reduces both
empathy and: trust...
                that's why when i read a newspaper
i skip all the news and go straight into
the editorial section: the opinions...
opinions?! ugh... in journalism that's synonymous
with unchallenged dialectics...

i think this "article" prompted the morning
sickness more than the can of Fanta...
i felt sick...
i find a £1000+ mobile phone in a supermarket...
i cycle home with it... it starts ringing with:
mommy... title for the ringer...
i get a churning in my stomach...
i can't rob a child of a mistake she'll learn from:
that... not everyone in society will do this...
hand in a lost phone...
best to get her hopes up...
at least i won't be the one disappointing her...
like that Iron Maiden song: afraid to shoot strangers...

yeah... that's what got me all weird and jittery...
soldiers should not be buying *** anywhere?
what about civilians? are, they, still, allowed?
or are we in a one massive ******* nunnery
of western women's feminism?!
*** is ***... *** is bad when its exchanged...
but good when it's free in *******?
a next: elevated ******* harem of would-be eunuchs?!

what if you buy ***... but at the same time...
manage to give a ******* an ****** by performing
oral *** on her? lies?! LIES! LIES! LIES!
she's always faking her ******* ******:
just like the woman is faking her pregnancy:
with "you": but not "him"... right?
the oldest story in the book of fairy-tales...

better *** work than journalism...
once upon a time there was journalism...
now journalists enter the realm of a secular priesthood...
who are these pope-editors?!
humanity has returned to a secular-religiosity...
it's that ******* plain and simple...
it took me a day to react...
i wanted to enjoy the day....
watch some athletics... some female football...
water the garden... cook a bbq...
the usual ****...
  but when you wake up with headlines:

MAN GIVING A WOMAN AN ****** = BAD...
you're like? well then... the next best "thing"
is probably killing her: so she shuts the **** up...
you don't play "sane" psychological dissonance
with a misdiagnosed schizophrenic:
someone with a psychotic "disorder":
you dye you hair pink or purple
and build up weird ****** expressions:
and shut the **** up...

          and you start listening to God-Smack:
esp. the song: stay away...

    if it weren't for Turkish or Romanian prostitutes
i'd still be an "incel"...
                        to hell with that...
that's paradoxically the "west" in a nutshell:
it wants both the superiority in morality
and a superiority in stressing its pillar of individualism:
which is supposed to be freed from
moralism... or did i get something wrong?

my morality? if i find money?
you're not going to find it or therefore get it back...
money is money...
i use money to turn a stone into a plank of wood...
even though the stone is not exchanged
for a plank of wood...
money is money is money...
money is also time...
  money is emblem... money is the fingernails
of Mammon...
                why do all frauds happen in
the realm of the credit system?
why don't i use the credit system?
for all the gained security...
              there's less self-awareness within the credit
system... ergo? i've primarily focused on
the debit system: i spend what i have...
i spend what i own...
                      i've stopped using the credit system
donkeys' years ago...
    who's going to scam me? who's going to bribe me?
to use the debit system implies:
you have to be the person using
the debit card... anyone can apparently use
a credit card...

here: a schematic...

body-shadow... hmm... what language will i chose?
the usual...
i like squares:

body                            ghost





breath                          shadow


breath being interchangeable with soul...
ergo?

leib                                  geist





atem                                shatten...

  (
seele... somewhere donw the line...
                    )

so what the **** are we supposed to do?
can civilians "buy" ***? what the **** are we "buying":
we're certainly not buying what being in a relationship buys...
being a married man you're not buy whiskey...
you're not buying vinyl records...
you're not buying bicycle spare-parts...
you're buying?! lip-gloss... too many *******
kitchen equipment...
i... i seriously don't want to earn money to do that...
******* THICK SKULLS!
women pretend they become... ******* Albert Einsteins
in the biology department very: clearly: early...
and then lose all their sensibility...
i need 20 hunting dogs...
i don't need a woman... i can cook food for myself!
what are these lunatic Lucy types thinking?!

here's a worthwhile review:
ALL WARS SHOULD BE FOUGHT WITHOUT ANY
VIOLENCE ANYWHERE!

ha ha... ha ha!
no sentence should be stringed with grammatical
intelligence: since the time immemorial
concerning a Helen of Troy...
war was not ***?!
right... so... currently... the un-****** women
get to dictate to the "*****" women
what... ******* is?
all of them are ***-starved: petty paupers?
*** is no fun?
  it must be primed: based on the focus
of a prim?
                          there needs to be an awe aspiring
consensus of the ******* "sisterhood"
oh **** me... i really must have missed
the shady alleys and brothels and forgot
about the leisurely activities of "proper" women:
the sort that prescribing announcing
themselves to the gig economy stewards:
but i'm a law graduate student:
i forgot to tell her...
i'm a former  chemistry student...
you're not half way from floating my boat...
but i'm pretty sure you'll find your
African anti-racist commodification you wish
to find... ergo? i don't give a ****...

seriously, by now?
          i start waving my hands in the air like
i just don't care...
i'm looking elsewhere... Turkish... esp. Turkish...
i'm looking for a second schism in Islam...
i have "plans"...
                
ugh... African women? i don't find them attractive...
does that does make me "racist"? ah ha ha...
                  how-z'ah... how-z'ah...
you find tapeworms attractive...
i'd love to pet a hyena...
  almost like a dog...
                          
well... wouldn't you know: with article such as these:
#metoo can die a silent death...
with opinions like these:
unchallenged...
no... nope... i don't want to **** these women:
i best avoid them...
              i won't want to touch these women
with these kind of opinions...
i want them in the ******* nunnery of both the physical
sense and in the sense of ideas...
what for? soi defensive...
            i'd rather wrestle with a dozen of Rottweiler
cubs... for fun... than **** a woman like that...

to hell with the imagination of 72 virgins:
they must be all middle-Eastern...
they can't be Western...
just give me a dozen of Rottweiler cubs...
i just need that...
                            i know how to orientate my thrills...
they are never enough...
            but i know what's enough:
give me a dozen of Rottweiler cubs...
and go **** yourself and your harem...
no... because: that's not how it works...
it works via "X"... and the said "X" is: said X...
which is this.

I gatta work hard
Really hard
Give my daughter something
To idolize
Cause mum wanted a famous father
Well I will give you that
Cause you mean a lot
I go take the world into my palms
If it that will make you
Look into my eyes
With those twinkle little eyes
Again
None matter how heavy
It will weigh upon my shoulders
For you I will pull on further
Even a mile more when I have walked a thousand
1001 are just numbers
Figures to count our blessings
Well we won't use numbers baby
We not the einsteins
But by Bernini's works we are the
Illumination
We in the heavens baby
We the stars and moon
Exposed for political gains
Daughter see dad is a soldier
His wise too
He don't fight wars we would never win
Dad is warrior
His smoke signals shall be seen

As prospective students
ably ready themselves to matriculate
and/or first set little feet
inside halls of learning,
I rebroadcast a poem crafted
at the height of Covid-19.

A couple years gone back educators
adaptation regarding coronavirus
severely impacted on the classroom,
which modifications necessitated school boards
to rejigger methodology teaching paradigm,  
quite herculean feat yours truly
(self tasked himself with assignment)
attempted to encapsulate difficulty courtesy

his handy dandy trademark poetic flair;
through arbitrarily chosen words,
nevertheless encompassed feeble effort
forthwith present authored outcome
read endeavor printed below,
which attempt barely hinted
at near insurmountable obstacles
pandemic loosed upon webbed wide world.

The following reasonable
already obsolete rhyme
verst animated mine
faux class (sic) lilting brogue
courtesy coronavirus (COVID-19) rogue,
wrought approximate sixth month academic hiatus,
nevertheless September 1st, 2020
signaled resumption of school year
back in vogue.

Countless challenges abounded
as millions of students
(darting to and fro, hither and yon
analogous to flagellated spermatozoa)
did re:zoom
even fetus soon did kickstart
to get academic jumpstart while in utero
eventually nudged out of womb,
whence a new born babe
cradled in mother's arms
lulled to sleep listening to Mozart
while older siblings

awaited crossing guard signal
when one after another
bus came by... vroom,
whereby administrators established
virtual and/or actual room
adapted to delegate assignments
as reported by local newsroom
facilitated by unrenown,
unstoried, and untutored writer,
most likely a bonafide married,
and once former unbridled groom.

Though mind boggling, death defying,
and harrowing scenario daring to crisscross
(dangerous information
super highway road)
confronted those most qualified to teach
impressionable minds to overload,
nevertheless I envy those learning
courtesy high tech mode,
whereby inquiring inquisitive young students
taught abc's including
modus operandi how to code.

Virtual golden (gated) opportunity
spectacularly presented to bridge,
kickstart, and buttress children
immodestly excited and
amenable to learn online,
while one old googly eyed
aging pencil necked geek
made his poetic cameo appearance
crafting awareness about severe complication
hash-tagging those best equipped to instruct,

which alternatives pinterest me
linkedin, trumpeted nsync with
tried and true orthodox methodology
(think white/blackboard
with markers and/or chalk respectively),
who by the way never got chosen to
clap erasers outside,
neither folded flag ditto after said
emblematic sanctified cloth unfurled,
nor ever served as safety patrol.

Though born within baby boom generation,
I horrendously, nobly, royally struggled
to acquire cognitive consonance
invariably experiencing cognitive dissonance
who floundered like a fish out of water
forever barely achieving passable grade.

Bard of Perkiomen Valley
readily attests de facto failure
if hypothetically enrolled
in kindergarten today,
he would get demoted to preschool
(a slight bit of hyperbole),
thus laments abysmal track record,
whereby attending conventional
schools of hard knocks
situated within Lower Providence district
emotionally fractured psyche
until this very waking moment,
and moost likely mine
remaining tenure on Earth.

Concomitant to foster
misgivings of wretchedness,
I harbor jealousy
at young whip smart kids,
who already possess laudatory command
concerning salient technological knowhow,
me far beyond paternal parental stage
yet speculate how child raising
could allow, enable and provide
insight into latest
cutting edge binary wizardry.

Less impactful upon precocious
boys and girls hungry
as a caterpillar for knowledge
included protracted time eons ago,
when fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters
experienced opportunities to
relish countless hours whittled away
being tutored as son(s)
and/or daughter(s) for stereotypical roles.

Within realm of cyberspace
positive kudos extolled mentoring progeny
about rudimentary concepts
(plus edifying offspring
about all encompassing
social media platforms netiquette)
aided in turn with
sophisticated computer programs
(possibly created by little Einsteins)
invariably lovingly bonding (yeah right).

This is the 2nd poem I’ve come upon written in 1999, so woefully up to date I feel I must send it out.  Called Gone In A Minute.

                    Gone In A Minute

An avalanche, a mud slide ,
Every meter drenched and plastered,
Gliding and colliding, guided
By terrain alone,
And crash, boom, clang,
The whole shebang is gone.

People!  Yes, of course!
Their words and art;
The future’s start.
Centuries of minds,
Mines of thinking gone:  
In a non-thinking wink.

How long then, family name?
The worked for fame?
Volcanic ash, a lava stream,
Centuries of verse, and worse,
Memory all creamed away.

Fire, flood, the drowned, the charred:
Things no longer anything;
The best and worst on equal footing.

Wars: the scarred, disfigured, marred
And all the future Bachs, Picassos,
Jenny Linds, Carusos,
Shakespeares, Einsteins,
(not to mention Arlene Corwins)
Never to expand a wing,
Create a thing,

The crux is, what we bring to mind
How easy and complete,
How fast defeat
Comes to a globe
Once calamity’s in orbit.
And we wonder what is worth it, what is not,
Ask what lasts when pasts wiped out
Leave nothing.

Gone In A Minute 8 22.2020/improved from1.2.1999 Our Times, Our Culture II; Circling Round Experience; Arlene Nover Corwin

nothing but persistent
pesky sniveling, snot nosed
beastie boy buggers.

Data breach conundrum with Gmail rectified...
courtesy MacKeeper computer technicians
in tandem with the geek inside me,
who finally resolved elusive quandary
that befuddled and frustrated yours truly,
yet would probably be a no brainer
for generic kindergartner.

Orders of protestation barked back
from artificial intelligence machine
******* Macbook Pro laptop,
informing stymied ordinary sleepy joe -
biden his time trying in vain
to contact Google representative.

Left to my own devices
plus praying to the god of technology Vishwakarma,
whereby a thunderbolt appeared out of the blue
struck me upside the head
jump/kick started problem solving creative juices.

Picture the general scenario
such that I could see
clearly within mind's eye
raw binary bits of personal information
snapped up for sinister purposes)
after familiarity with MacKeeper transpired,
and kudos to the brain children
(before parturition little Einsteins trained in utero
while he/she they/them
listened to Mozart), who birthed

said utility computer program
to maintain ideal free and clear
functionality, operationality,
and uni-directionality
of sophisticated electronic machine
to detect, quarantine
or purge malicious software
when necessary if the life
of the expectant mother
or other type of end user at risk.

After bundle of joy exits ******, he/she they/them
burbles fluent binary, octal, hexadecimal, et cetera
before nursing courtesy re milk of human kindness
suckling buzzfeeds babe essential nutrients to fend
off nasty and brutish microscopic manifold germs
empowering immune system of newborn with vital
defenses against deleterious organisms analogous to
top notch military trained to stop enemy in their trax.

Similar to taking preventive measures such as getting
inoculated or taking antibiotics if body affected by an
insidious illness causing pathogen, a legion of danger
exists (rather flows) within the webbed wide world of
a stand alone computing machine or a linkedin network
system analogous to vulnerable damage causing living
entity, (whether animal or plant) wreaking havoc within
cellular level, which worse case scenario spells demise
of corporeal entity or in the case of flora, flowers nipped
in the bud before they get a chance to blossom, which
irksome blight, a pitiful sight for sore eyes or lamentation

(more likely anger or rage against the machine) currently
infected with deliberately delivered malware intended to
sabotage important data as happened to many unsuspecting
netizens (including yours truly), whose divine intervention
courtesy MacKeeper application provided ways and means
to remedy implacable stealth perpetrated, especially black
hat, gray hat, green hat or elite hackers to mention a small
number of cyber marauders hell bent causing woebegone
agitation, brutalization, cannibalization, desperation,
eradication, infiltration, ruination of blood, sweat and tears
regarding creation of supposedly air tight
vacuum packed system.