Kourtney Kardashian usually displays some quirky style when shooting her reality show Keeping Up With The Kardashians.

And on Monday the 36-year-old single mom was at it again as she wore a baggy army green jumpsuit when landing with her three kids Mason, aged five, Penelope, aged three, and Reign, eight months, in St Barts to shoot her E! show.

Looks like mom Kris Jenner, 59, did not get the fashion memo as she was seen descending the steps of a private jet alongside Khloe, 30, Kim, 34, and Kendall, 19, in the exact same getup.

The jumpsuit seemed to hang off Kourtney, who paired the staple with clunky platform black and beige jazz shoes, gold necklaces and gold-rimmed aviators. The ex of Scott Disick played down the glam with a ponytail and minimal makeup.

Kris wore her suit in a more fitted manner that showed off her slim waistline.

The ex of Bruce Jenner (now Caitlyn of I Am Cait fame) added beige combat boots and a small beige Hermes bag to her look.

Her hair was worn styled in a spiky fashion and she didn't forget to glam it up with vintage sunglasses and lipstick.

Khloe was playing good auntie as she carried Penelope, who was cute in a white dress.

The girlfriend of NBA star James Harden had on a black sleeveless mini dress and black high top sneakers. The E! babe carried a large neon yellow Hermes purse and wore her blonde locks up in a messy top knot.

Kim, who carried daughter North, was the most dressed up by far.

The pregnant wife of rapper Kanye West had on a tight beige dress that showed off her baby bumpy (she is expecting a son in December), beige rain coat and strappy beige heels. Her hair was worn down and parted in the middle.

North had on a summer dress and beige sandals, and her hair was worn in a top knot.

Kendall had on a plunging blue outfit with black and white Adidas sneakers.

The Calvin Kelin model had a black purse on her shoulder and gold-rimmed aviators on, copying her older half-sisters Kourtney and Khloe.

Her younger sister Kylie, who turned 18-years-old over the weekend, was not seen.

The crew for Keeping Up With The Kardashians could be seen holding cameras and a boom as the stars walked off a red, white and blue private jet.

The family has been shooting the next season of the E! show, which will air after I Am Cait ends.

The Kardashians often film their reality show when on vacation as they did in Armenia earlier this year and in Greece in 2014.

This show of unity comes the day after Kim and Khloe were seen arguing with Cait on I Am Cait.

Jenner's comments about her family in her Vanity Fair cover interview have become a running bone of contention among the Kardashian clan.

Kris confronted her ex-husband over what she has said about her in a powder keg moment that was teased after Sunday night's episode.

Kris tells her in a video posted on E: 'You're sensitive and amazing to all these new people in your life, you're just not so sensitive and amazing to the family that you left behind.'

Caitlyn gives her side, responding: 'I try to do everything I can to be nice, reach out. You have to see it from my perspective, be an ally when it comes to dealing with the kids.'

Then the former Olympian says, 'Don't go there, this is not the issue. I was defending myself. It was a distraction from the sense of who I was, that doesn't mean I didn't love you or the kids.'

Throughout Sunday night's episode Caitlyn is shown getting into arguments with her stepchildren, first with Kim and then with Khloe.

When Kim comes to visit Caitlyn first complains about how her family had all kept their distance.

She said: 'Nobody's come out [to visit], Kourtney hasn't made a move at all, obviously Khloe hasn't come close - I feel so isolated out here. All of a sudden there's this wall that's up there.

'I just want everybody to be happy. I love, love, love all my kids. I wish you guys were here every **** day.'

But it is not long before Caitlyn is also being criticized, firstly due to her nature and then due to what she has said about her family to Vanity Fair.

Kim said: 'You still have a little Bruce in you. I thought Caitlyn would be a little kinder. I think that there's some things that you said that you might not realize are hurtful.

'You said that Kendall and Kylie were a distraction. When they read that - I don't know that they'll quite understand that.'

The conversation then turned to Kim's manager mother, with explosive results.

Kim said: '[The interview] said, "had Kris been accepting to who I am, we still would be together" - and that is the most unfair thing in the world to say.

'You're a woman now and she is not a lesbian - she does not want to be with a woman, that's not fair to ask.'

Caitlyn defensively insisted: 'As time went on our relationship changed drastically. In my eyes it's like, "Well, I don't need him any more - I've got all the girls." I felt it in the way she treated me. She wanted me out of the house.'

Kim, insisting Caitlyn should have been thrilled and saying 'good riddance' to a relationship that 'wasn't mean to be', told her: 'If I was with someone for 25 years I would look for the positive things and try to end it on a good note.

'You said "Kris mistreated me" - it sounded like she beat the s**t out of you. You could have a little more respect.'

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/princess-formal-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/blue-formal-dresses

There is no hair on my chest;
My eyes are deep dark

Which i heard you say
Are the ones you do not like.

I have a crooked smile

With good intentions
Unlike the guys
You hang around.

I comb my hair with a part
Over to to my right side

And i dress to impress
A lady that does not care.
I will still walk
With my chin up

And my getup squared
Just because
She does not care.

she ..... he

she, as sweet as honey. doe-eyed tender splendor. the sun braids her hair, the moon wipes her tears. day & night, she can only carry herself. teacup girl, you can hold her eggshell ego in your palm
calm.
she's a woeman or a wooman.
she, rue and blue. nocturnal ocular. inamorato inane. crazy stupid love, crazy stupid ladylove. predator of pure perpetual bliss, his kiss ~
she's laughter, guffaw and raw. she's cute, twee and sweet. she's every ability capable of catastrophe jealousy jalousie jade, unafraid.
a tectonic plate girl, a train wreck looking for equanimity tranquility.
a cat scratch female.
a female severe thunderstorm, warning.
auburn hair, dribbling like transferred decant hazelnut coffee
brewed shampoo sheen, his palms pouring with bountiful bliss
a cup of her.
wearing a pearl choker around her neck, she's his oyster
ready to be eaten, raw
his dear delicacy
ostentatious ritz
risqué getup glitz
lush.
he feeds her frenzied, hot, hunger for her concupiscent daydream
in actuality he has a haughty personality, between her hips arousal drips.
he's her peach, beseech with fervent fever for innocuous intimacy; enmesh and evoke in ease, please the plead we need.
he's her contour, the silhouette that invokes her earnestly and summons her evoked despondent deity, bring vigor and satisfactory vengeance.
on her mother-naked body, be the fabric that nukes her raw reprehensible physique,
be sinful, spiteful, senseless
in the way they drape.
breathe in her arousal
breathe in her lust,
touch her yearned wants and needs
touch her hankering hands,
kiss her passion
kiss her pain,
coition.
(k.m.m.)

Social distance is the best,
Waving hands and, not shaking
You can touch your, lovely heart
Keep a distance, of 6 feet
Social distance is the best

To keep safe your, inner side
Dust mask is the, best to use
If you need to, touch a thing
Gloves are the best, as tactic
Social distance is the best

If you are with, the hands naked
Tissue paper, you should use
Give up all type, wandering
Social distance is the best

If you are in, dire need of
Cooking, washing, or cleaning
Be determined, with full care
Social distance is the best

Go to market, for a while
On fix hours as decided
Your getup should, as guided
Mask n glasses, hands in gloves
Social distance is the best

Come in hurry to, clean yourself
Twenty seconds, wash your hands
Destroy all things, which you can
Social distance is the best

If shows these lights, your character
It will be a great honour
I will salute to, you man
I will with you, as a fan
………..

What is all this blather about dawn
And the lies about loving sunrise?
There is very little fun going on.
It doesn’t it make me wealthy and wise.
It’s often cold except in summer.
It’s still mostly dark, not quite light.
Stumbling around is a ******,
And, in my opinion, it’s not right.

What the heck is wrong with bed,
Letting the whole world get up first
Enjoying more dreams in my head,
Before experiencing morning thirst?
Why can’t I let the winos rise up
And move away from my doorstep
Before I try to find my getup
And take my outside first step?

Unless I make it at home, no good
Food is offered in American diners.
They sell no roughage, as they should.
They think health food is for whiners.
Nothing green, not much but meat
Mostly on offer is coffee and sugar;
Fried, and starchy stuff on the street.
Finding food besides that is a ******.

So, no thanks, I much prefer to stay
With dreams of retirement in my head
Until later on in the bright light of day
Snuggled, sleeping in my comfy bed.
I don’t want to wake while it’s still dark.
There is nothing much of dawn I like.
Joggers go on and run in the park.
All of you early risers: go take a hike.

Shed your bias
Shed your fears
Go on ahead
Its ok
Shed some tears

Now get up
Pick your getup
Smile wide
Try a walk on the wild side

Put up your hair
Or let it down
Pick up the lipstick
Paint your frown

Get some blush
A little mascara
Do up your brows
Get it goin Leon Sierra

Put on your dress
With your favorite song
Don't be ashamed
That you're wearing a thong

We are on a look out for both- sweet & sour,
Wish we could change the getup every other hour.
Want a wife with all the beauty and loads of brain,
A muscular husband full of romanticism without bit of strain.
We want to measure the stature of the highest mountain,
The vast sea, colorful lake and the coolest fountain.
As human being we crave for the change,
For contrast like black and white of full rage.
We want both – this & that,
The loyal dog and also the wild cat!

I've been lost and left out
Fell down dead now
In droughts dry heat
The floor makes my feet bleed
No silence just screaming
But no death
Just the beginning
What is the meaning?
Wandering the vast isles
Many shreaks within the many miles
Piles of flesh still lust for the rush
Some getup and make a living by selling drugs
Dug themselves deeper while passing by the weepers
Whom chatter teeth clatter
Nothing sadder
Holding matter
In the palms of my hands
As people fry
Poems in my dome
As people try to get out the abyss
The snake hiss echoes through absent dark crypt
Infernos fueled by the flesh
Crimson fire spew as sin holds that soul within
What is it that matters?
Love?Laughter?Disasters?
Or a mad hatter in hells plains
awaiting the Holy gains.
Change.
Is a coming, and even through the valley of pain, flames abdominal lust and shame I keep my Faith for Holy awaits.
Yahweh is great amen forever with the Lord
I'm safe.

september flies all saltyness
brand new digital photos in your **** getup
you didn't know I knew you'd come round, right

by this wheel
on that track
on your wing
you bring me into you without red penny promises
and I know you mean it, each time

when the surf takes hold, edge along the side
into the bluff and sea spray, hold my hand
I close my eyes and feel your fingers marry mine
over the cliff, those longheld things soon fly free

I wore tie dye
to the funeral
because it was what
your family requested
and a sibling of mine cried
to me later about how
she felt out of place
with all the misfits
in tie dye
and her in her
impossibly chic
getup with all her
friends
as though a funeral
is the place to make
a fashion statement

Sorry about your loss!
#newme
#sensitive

As though she'd been
inconvenienced
by the family's preferences
to remember their daughter
by her favorite patterns
and funerals were really just
events you could save
imaginary tickets from
and frame them in a beautiful collage
next to all your beautiful outfits
and memories of how you and
your friends got dressed up
so nice
and looked out of place
at a funeral
where you didn't give
a **** about the
person who
had
died

This is a story
Of a hippo dressed as a man
In which no one could see
And no one would like to believe

There's an animal inside him
Yawning his jaw is huge
Yet, people cannot see
Wondering in the city

Wearing a hat
And a safari getup
Drinking coffee
In this setup

Goes shopping like others
In which no one could point
And he doesn't even bother
Even with the flip of the coin

(Chorus)

He's a hippo
Hippo in disguise
Hippo-crite
He's a hippo
Hippo none to see in eyes
Hippo-crite

He chews in everything he sees
From cakes to human flesh
For him, it's such a breeze
Another wonderful dish

Gullible humanity
They could not figure out
There's a hippo wondering around
Shaking while jumping on the ground

He's always hungry for more
On the subway, he takes two seats
With his body, he always break doors
Of every shopping stores
Still many give him the greets

He's happy
He's smiling
This is a dream come true
Still no one has ever knew

THAT...

(Chorus)

(Guitar Solo)

Bathing in mud in schools
Laughing children playing with him
No one knows his deal
When he make the kiddies
Into his own MEAL!!!

He's happy
He's smiling
And now, many had started to figure out
What this thing is all about

THAT...

(Chorus)

In the end,
He got tranquilized
And sent back to Africa
As he started singing....

"It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you
There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do
I bless the rains down in Africa
Gonna take some time to do the things we never had"

Enshrined for all posterity
mine benediction for reverence,
whereby conflict resolution
ameliorated courtesy peaceable solutions.

An adulation, concatenation, encapsulation,
gratification, introspection, et cetera
encompassing poignant episodes of mein kampf.

Flagrante delict adulterous sordid behavior
automatically linkedin with Lothario;
an unscrupulous seducer of women,
based upon a character
in The Impertinent Curious Man,
a story within a story
in Miguel de Cervantes'
1605 novel, Don Quixote.

Hard to fathom where yours truly
got (seedy – CD) drive and moxie,
after willingly assenting
to pledge sacred marital agreement
courtesy justice of the peace
and Magisterial District Judge:
Henry Schireson
925 Montgomery Avenue,
Suite 100, Narberth, Pennsylvania
19072-1913.

He subsequently and immediately
pronounced myself and the missus
as newlywed groom and bride
freshly minted husband and wife
July twenty fifth nineteen ninety six
until death do us part.

A couple years later,
we acquired our first computer
then snazzy top of the line
state of the art COMPAQ presario
running on Windows 98 operating system,
a belated wedding anniversary present,
whereat wide-eyed, I quickly disc hoovered
plethora pornographic websites
expending energy and time crafting
which hashtagged electronic ejaculations recognized
now as crude sexually explicit
classified personal advertisements
forsaking welfare of marriage and fatherhood
to mine innocent beautiful two little girls.

I blatantly, egregiously, indiscriminately...
whiled away hours shucking off
essentially grievously ignoring
paternal and husbandly duties
instead prioritizing re: cultivating,
cavorting, frolicking, inviting...
romantic (née dangerous) liaisons.

These days majority of time spent online
constitutes crafting anecdotes of mein kampf,
albeit reflecting categorically imponderable poetry
and/or stream of consciousness prose
veritable anonymous readers
probably roll their eyes
at mine trademark double entendre,
yet bard **** (with shaky spear) knows
how inapropos I consider ogling attractive girls
for instance while grocery shopping
with the missus at Trader Joe's,
nevertheless job of this punster
his wordplay accidentally doth impose
so please pardon moi harmless
momentary lapse of rhymed reason

as mine handy dandy
blue veined ribbed slimy fleshy hose
does double duty in tandem with magic wand,
lifelike snaky entity that actually grows
particularly necessary when
burst of fiery secretion flows
intense spray powerful enough
to pulverize knees and elbows
subsequently witnessing yours truly to doze,
an ideal juncture to figuratively close
silently wailing analogy to Moby ****
regarding how yesterdays
prurient laced introductions
to rhyme in retrospect embarrassingly blows.

Herewith to enliven anecdote ever further,
I inject humorous tidbit
just gimme moment to unload and reach
into psychological metaphorical knapsack
particularly blue slimy hose, my keepsake
to forcibly remove *******
birthed courtesy emergency pit stop
without means and ways to clean derriere,
a feeble and futile attempt.

Haint no fallacy
yours truly subsequently secured
more powerful giant accouterment,
while clinging for dear life
perched atop ledger
or edge er domain of clawfoot bathtub,
(ah how convenient and timely
smallish size Jacuzzi getup to appear)
and lemme figuratively
continue (closing) pathetic riffraff
(apropos of nothing) riffling around
mostly strewn with random tchotchkes
and odd bubba's zayda's knickknack
such as ahh... look here hocked wares,
acquired ready to receive paddywhack
giving dog(gerel) bonafied chops.

Without warning be alert
and on outlook for non sequitur
verses asinine blather to blurt
plus quite juvenile grown man here
averse to ***** thought processes of her/him
who might peruse frivolous inane gibberish
cuz precious effort ye exert
to comprehend written contents
alluding to metaphorical little squirt.

I chose to memorialize, alas and alack
atypical/unusual fond memory -
argh, a sudden nostalgia attack
many... countless years gone back
livingsocial at 324 Level Road,
elapsed good times, I can never buyback
Gambone builders demolished complex edifice
currently repurposed mansion manse courtesy
vinyl city as Stella's Way
boyhood address above,
frequently seen dramatically transformed
into aforementioned place name, which property
originally christened Glen Elm,
(within national registries)
yours truly cannot easily callback.
Noggin houses storied detailed information
though I experience exercise in futility
searching Internet, said webbed wide world
absent information when Leipers lived
circa early nineteen hundreds, though
if mine perchance eyes espied absent estate...
slack jawed stare would repeatedly
sow sadness weighing me heart
heavy as coalsack
accompanying sorrow with

attendant flood of tears,
would make an immediate comeback
impossible mission to stopper
feeble, futile and lame counterattack,
where sentimental reverie would
carry me far away to Old Virginny,
for no particular rhyme nor reason
e'en attempting to write
recollections might trigger
tsunami immanent grievous childhood memories

recollecting watching silent home movies,
while chomping on crackerjack
when I had real teeth,
boot the Missus axed me to enliven herself
regaling humorous instances, thus I cutback
to... hardy ***** times, the major drawback
x amount of time elapsed
summoning special occasions
(surgeon general's warning
such mental revisitations)

fraught with onset, where perilous flashback
will moost likely
violently grip cerebral cortex
analogous to puny chap (me)
knocked unconscious courtesy
searingly robust fullback,
nevertheless impossible mission
to restrain waterworks I intend to hijack,
and hoop fully succeed tamping tears
strong suggestion as encouraged by hunchback

from Notre Dame Dublin
known within these neck of woods
as storied Paul Bunyan
also alias Philanderer,
(especially among superficially
prim and proper, but
actually debauched women folk),
whose services regarding payback
best abide, adhere, and afford
to pay forward credo fore playbook.

Said burly lumberjack with severe scoliosis,
nonetheless quite self evident
his outsize implement,
(ye need not axe further questions)
extinguishing problematic residue
iterated further within mine playful ramble.

her words
" I hate you "
hurt like
a fly
struggle to
getup from sticky ground

Hope is all that keeps alive, everything, every person, every situation, will always, keep blocking you and your dreams.
One has to only keep going and keep doing we have to do to achieve our dream's.
Thing's don't work for us,
People don't work for us,
Change your attitude
Getup early, workout, Pray to god, start your work early.
Contact people at their early working hour's.
They cannot ignore your calls ,and you will get the true answers.

i am on my hands and knees
begging
p l e a s e
get up
getup get UP
GETUPGETUPGETUP
i am sitting.
i am screaming
my eardrums are blown to **** right now
from crying in agonizing pain in my head
please
you have to get up
GET THE **** UP
but its like all of my cells are ten pounds and my mind is filled with concrete
im sorry but i cant.
i love you but i wont
im trying not to be selfish but im going to have to be
i dont want to get better
i want to sink further until you give up on me
and once you do everything will be better again.

Flagrante delict adulterous sordid behavior
automatically linkedin with Lothario;
an unscrupulous seducer of women,
based upon a character
in The Impertinent Curious Man,
a story within a story
in Miguel de Cervantes'
1605 novel, Don Quixote.

Hard to fathom where yours truly
got (seedy – CD) drive and moxie,
after willingly assenting
to pledge sacred marital agreement
courtesy justice of the peace
and Magisterial District Judge:
Henry Schireson
925 Montgomery Avenue,
Suite 100, Narberth, Pennsylvania
19072-1913.

He subsequently and immediately
pronounced myself and the missus
as newlywed groom and bride
freshly minted husband and wife
July twenty fifth nineteen ninety six
until death do us part.

A couple years later,
we acquired our first computer
then snazzy top of the line COMPAQ presario
running on Windows 98 operating system no less,
a belated wedding anniversary present,
whereat wide-eyed, I quickly disc hoovered
plethora pornographic websites
expending energy and time crafting
which hashtagged electronic ejaculations recognized
now as crude sexually explicit
classified personal advertisements
forsaking welfare of marriage and fatherhood
to mine innocent beautiful two little girls.

I blatantly, egregiously, indiscriminately...
whiled away hours shucking off
essentially grievously ignoring
paternal and husbandly duties
instead prioritizing re: cultivating,
cavorting, frolicking, inviting...
romantic (née dangerous) liaisons.

These days majority of time spent online
constitutes crafting anecdotes of mein kampf,
albeit reflecting categorically imponderable poetry
and/or stream of consciousness prose
veritable anonymous readers
probably roll their eyes
at mine trademark double entendre,
yet bard **** (with shaky spear) knows
how inapropos I consider ogling attractive gals
for instance while grocery shopping
with the missus at Trader Joe's,
nevertheless job of this punster
his wordplay accidentally doth impose
so please pardon moi harmless
momentary lapse of rhymed reason

as mine handy dandy
blue veined ribbed slimy fleshy hose
does double duty in tandem with magic wand,
lifelike snaky entity that actually grows
particularly necessary when
burst of fiery secretion flows
intense spray powerful enough
to pulverize knees and elbows
subsequently witnessing yours truly to doze,
an ideal juncture to figuratively close
silently wailing analogy to Moby ****
regarding how yesterdays
prurient laced introductions
to rhyme in retrospect embarrassingly blows.

Herewith to enliven anecdote ever further,
I inject humorous tidbit
just gimme moment to unload and reach
into psychological metaphorical knapsack
particularly blue slimy hose, my keepsake
to forcibly remove *******
birthed courtesy emergency pit stop
without means and ways to clean derriere,
a feeble and futile attempt.

Haint no fallacy
yours truly subsequently secured
more powerful giant accouterment,
while clinging for dear life
perched atop ledge er
or edge er domain of clawfoot bathtub,
(ah how convenient and timely
smallish size Jacuzzi getup to appear)
and lemme figuratively
continue (closing) pathetic riffraff
(apropos of nothing) riffling around
mostly strewn with random tchotchkes
and odd bubba's zayda's knickknack
such as ahh... look here hocked wares,
acquired ready to receive paddywhack
giving dog(gerel) bonafied chops.

Without warning be alert
and on outlook for non sequitur
verses asinine blather to blurt
plus quite juvenile grown man here
averse to ***** thought processes of her/him
who might peruse frivolous inane gibberish,
cuz precious effort ye exert
to comprehend written contents
alluding to metaphorical little squirt.

I chose to memorialize, alas and alack
atypical/unusual fond memory -
argh, a sudden nostalgia attack
many... countless years gone back
livingsocial at 324 Level Road,
elapsed good times, I can never buyback
Gambone builders demolished complex edifice
currently repurposed mansion manse courtesy
vinyl city as Stella's Way
boyhood address above,
frequently seen dramatically transformed
into aforementioned place name, which property
originally christened Glen Elm,
(within national registries)
yours truly cannot easily callback.

Noggin houses storied detailed information
though I experience exercise in futility
searching Internet, said webbed wide world
absent information when Leipers lived
circa early nineteen hundreds, though
if mine perchance eyes espied absent estate...
slack jawed stare would repeatedly
sow sadness weighing me heart
heavy as coalsack
accompanying sorrow with
attendant flood of tears,
would make an immediate comeback
impossible mission to stopper
feeble, futile and lame counterattack,
where sentimental reverie would
carry me far away to Old Virginny,
for no particular rhyme nor reason
e'en attempting to write
recollections might trigger
tsunami immanent grievous childhood memories

recollecting watching silent home movies,
while chomping on crackerjack
when I had real teeth,
boot the Missus axed me to enliven herself
regaling humorous instances, thus I cutback
to... hardy ***** times, the major drawback
x amount of time elapsed
summoning special occasions
(surgeon general's warning
such mental revisitations)

fraught with onset, where perilous flashback
will moost likely
violently grip cerebral cortex
analogous to puny chap (me)
knocked unconscious courtesy
searingly robust hypothetical fullback,
nevertheless impossible mission
to restrain waterworks I intend to hijack,
and hoop fully succeed tamping tears
strong suggestion as encouraged by hunchback

from Notre Dame Dublin down on miscreants
known within these neck of woods
as storied Paul Bunyan
also alias Phil Ander er,
(especially among superficially
prim and proper, but
actually debsauched women folk),
whose services regarding payback
best abide, adhere, and afford
to pay forward credo fore playbook.

Said burly lumberjack with severe scoliosis,
nonetheless quite self evident
his outsize implement,
(ye need not axe further questions)
extinguishing problematic residue
iterated further within mine playful ramble
methinks ye uttered vamoose,
hence best make a bee line and hastily scramble.

Fruitless effort squeezing figurative juice
Pandora called triggering
helter skelter to get loose
necessitating Bullwinkle J. Moose
to usher at yours truly
(an aspiring wordsmith) vamoose!

Hey ****** ****** the cat and the fiddle
went off to see a crooked man and woman
whilst cowards jumped over moo-ving little
pair of mismatched
calf fully ambling muggles,
who both walked from scan
din navy yah,
(nor-way could action be stopped
otherwise den-mark would be left),
where dog goniff imps
jousted with brittle

shaky spears, den did mark
neither path to norse east, where pan
demon yum erupted over adult
playing monkey in the middle
and bear witness to such sport
as dishabille donned dude named Evan
spoon fully ladled insults adrip
with indignity of loosing - bubbling spittle
spluttering trumping monitor
to claim game rigged,

which assault whipped a ban
she against being accosted
from mish shuga,
a towering ebony Amazonian,
who didst tittle
late tad evincing groan nips quibbling
over what appeared to be a van
knit tee fair of bruising egos essentially
fighting for dominion
over right to urinate i.e. piddle
and defecate in non

gender specific restrooms wan
ever the urge
to empty the bladder or ****** -
(even if poo peas, the size of a skittle)
fraught major firestorm ratcheting,
synonymous with dandy rhyme
blues clues without reason -
dime a dozen cents less ditty -
snap, pop, and crackling
as hot cakes on a griddle.

Actually, the above
juiced a freaky Friday sideshow
displaying, hurraying, layawaying,
portraying and tracklaying dis-obeyed
rubric of respect, where decent
honorable linkedin maturity laid
waste to politesse, whar all stops pulled
sans presidential debates shade
no light on meaty issues,
but mudslinging as faux hit parade
housing and trumpeting an offer

to make America Great Again
thru yelping vanguard,
uber up lyft promulgating,
and intimating 4 years
times 52 long weeknd rock'm sock'm
bash re: hollow wean
qua vamp pyre avast
state farm riotous quacking,
whence life, liberty
and the pursuit of happiness decayed

into growling pedigreed mishmash made
for kickstarter bullied
prize **** fighters
indeed jimmying stockade
bag of tricks viz contesting scalawags,
tearing like rabid animals inlaid
with bared teeth,
and mouth frothing foam,
who just barely evade
coming to fisticuffs,

while presenting scathing hair-raid
nada so hill a re: us political pugilists
making up rules on shutterfly
spotify, and not afraid
toot change horses in midstream
to fix outcome of game
of thrones spouting
unfair sands casino trade
thus, billy-clubbing husband
of opponent indulged

in many a rapacious escapade
smear tactics and mistruths
essentially, he sung hiz zone
battle hymn of republican party,
a mockery and charade
driving donnybrook conspiratorial
billed Jefferson muttering arcade
guarded by ensconced
male and female Petsmart Weimaraner,
attired in a Thom malt chew wuss
Nast tee getup

elephant and donkey costumes respectively
while viewers entertained,
who succeeds as next blade
runner, and earn chance
to run country into the ground,
then a fancy feast for morticians,
one world wide webbed graveyard
moss lee tubby
taken back by Mother Nature,
thee indomitable ace of *****.

If you ever espy a latitudinally
and longitudinally challenged
older yet shopping savvy woman,
(wedded to yours truly
for almost twenty six years),
who stands approximately
four feet and ten inches
a strong hunch that gal
stacks up as mine missus,
she dons costumed headwear
to avoid station identification,

whenever she steps out
into the public limelight
anywhere outside these four walls
of our one bedroom apartment
here within bucolic Schwenksville,
the town that town forgot,
and the decades could not improve,
where all the women good looking,
the men strong, and the children
wise to the ways of technology.

When this logophile
quite a few pounds lighter
ever since I first became acquainted
with unnamed aforementioned woman,
she adopted predilection to don apparel
allowing, enabling, and providing
modus operandi to present herself incognito.

Ofttimes said spouse of mine
upon returning from
grocery shopping spree
(ever price conscious of various
and sundry commestibles -
with a knick knack paddy whack
give this doggone husband
a plant based NON GMO bone),
she can rattle off the prices
of targeted items on her mental rolodex
how much food cost at:
ALDI, GIANT, LIDL, WEGMANS...

While scurrying to and fro
hither and yon,
a stranger might unexpectedly
pay a compliment to iterated getup,
which bobbin noggin makes her
easy to identify, when yours truly
tags along, (but despite
being considerably taller
by almost twelve inches),
these spindleshanks of one
sentient, ship shaped,
shanghaied, salubrious,

slithering, snakish, stuttering,
sluggish, smashface scarred,
sober, solitary, sangfroid
skidamarink singing, Shamokin
speaking scrivener, scuzzy,
spunky, starved, submissively
suicidal, sunburned, senseless
salaried shuffling senescent
snoutish soundcloud shutterflying
snapchatting schnorrer
find impossible mission
to keep pace with the wife.

Excusing yourself as if...
going to the bidet,
an immense water closet
(perhaps the size of
Mar A Lago type getup),

sans human waste
(after flushing hearing
heavenly suctioned whoosh)
empties into prez Donald's bay,
where one *** wrapped aforementioned
toilet finely (and finally) enthrones

derriere exquisitely, and, delicately
intricately, chiseled wrought with cloisonné
ah...enjoying simple pleasure a$$ I say
sipping one after another Red Bull, whence
with one final trumpet of the **** -

(as acknowledgment to angry 1%),
though quite reluctantly did pay -
hitting the custom built in combination
handsome replica Taj Mahal fountainhead golf
course made from clay

baked Adobe bathroom links
(whew...long Atlas) shrugging off
responsibilities, escorted
by migrant compadre
Russian Putin lookalike uncannily

also resembles plucked Kernel Sanders
advocating consuming buttered Thomas
English muffins with oreos can delay,
tending to government, who successfully
playfully, melodiously preaches, sermonizes

and absolute zero values benefits burning
off calories, where couples sashay,
asper square and/or contra dancing,
where the caller hollers hip hip hooray
barely audible above

noisy fracas and fray
of crowded house,
avast throng of village people stomp
louder than a quiet
riot global military foray

anathema to dogma,
karma, persona... of
Jacques Cousteau, or green like
minded millennials and/or gray
bearded whelk homed by elasmobranchii.

NO ONE IS PLANTING A TREE,
THOUGH CITY IS GIVING FREE,
BUT SHADE,FRUIT ALL OF US WANT,
COME ON GETUP,START TREEPLANT !!

at Henry Kline Boyer Elementary School

As a Halloween costume,
one year during early grade school,
my father got the brilliant idea
for his sole son to be dressed
with one of a kind getup.

Missus Shaner
(the talon clawed, shriveled
relic of a dinosaur,
who taught fifth grade)
gave me first prize,
and subsequently felt so convinced
about authenticity of this kid
being “privileged white trash”,
she notified another kid
dressed as a janitor
to dispense with me
in the school dumpster.

The sanitation disposal company
drove me (and subsequently
dumped yours truly
among the real *******
in the dumpster)
to nearest landfill
loaded with all kinds of junk
such as food scraps, recyclables,
and soiled diapers.

Over a short span of time,
the detritus commingled
into one noxious brew
of a despicable fly haven,
whereby jiggling lifelike maggots,
jumpstarted, lunched, and nursed putrescence
re: reeking and teeming vibrantly
with yum zuck for a swamp thing,
I seemed to be metamorphosed
into sewer rat as if by some cruel hoax.

Nothing prepared, neither sickened
nor violated senses
of smell, sight, taste, and touch
to the maximum factor
intolerant of odoriferous odious stench.

Each pestilential assault
issued an appalling refrain
courtesy Fiona Apple's:
The Idler Wheel Is Wiser
than the Driver of the *****
and Whipping Cords Will Serve You
More than Ropes Will Ever Do.

Before mine myopic bespectacled eyes
(smarting from constant comet drubbing irritants
(which glasses – rather bifocals –
caked with smudge good as naught),
stayed wide shut from inundation
of said corrosive gaseous shaped
oxbow lake comprising wreath like wisps.

Liberty vis a vis in sight
envisioned visibly threatened offshoots
of tendril spikes; snaking sneakily,
sordidly slithering silently,
yet straightaway as a scene
from some spooky sideshow
or “haunted house”.

This ugly slop
splashed upon mine formerly
pristine academic uniform
appeared near identical
to the grub hub (the lunch lady served)
splattered sundry speckles
sans sundry detritus,
which found me writhing with nausea.

Thee nasty muck and mire
found this formerly introverted boy
transformed into a sponge bobbing
squarely panting creature
from the black lagoon,
whose skinny sea legs  
sought semi-solid surface
to stand upright position amidst
variegated flotsam and jetsam.

Dishabille appearance acquired
a fresh splattered coat of rancid slimy
green eggs and ham with bacon
covered gangly arms
(among other bit pieces of moldy clothes,
food and iconic library oddment)
ricocheted unpredictably as trash truck
violently shook up and down
all night long en route on this highway to hell
found me thunderstruck
(before being buried alive in Moyer’s Dump),
which toxic brew would be declared
a Super Fund Site
and shuttered in the near future.

Once Robert Hall wardrobe
affixed with a capitalone fancyfeast
of grateful dead road ****,
kickstarter from some automotive contraption,
and plenti of fish heads
(with thine square pants
trimmed with lovely bones),
I felt indistinguishable
from regular riffraff riding shotgun.

When random trucker parked and stopped,
the awful bin laden made ready
to empty contents within the mountain
of olfactory noxious material.

A thought occurred,
that now might be the golden
(or rather **** steeped) opportunity
to extricate myself
from morass of mish mashed,
spud nicked linkedin kindled juggernaut,
icky first class bric a brac.

Even as an old curmudgeon, aye pucker
and raspily suction, albeit toothless mouth
drawing reminiscent guffaws affecting
(think feeble attempt
impersonating plumber plunging -
unclogging backed up toilet),
flushed with satisfaction,
now snakes into following non sequitur,
whereby then upperclassman,
whose name Scott Lambert

I suddenly remembered
modest fellow one year my senior  
- donned tee shirt
“please support your local ******”
yes folks back in the day,
one long haired pencil neck geek
palled around with another
hirsute nerd - Roger Kummerer,
(who both of us graduated Methacton
High School class of 1977),

and yours truly readily
admitting, alluding, and attesting
without shadow of doubt
representing the dumber
than rocks of said rolling stones
foo fighting beastie boys
allied with Smokey and the bandits,
the latter donning outsize
particolored grey pachyderm trunks,
Tuscaloosa so far away;

especially as Mummer doth strut
on unseasonably warm New Year's Day
sporting polar bear look-alike
gabardine garb getup trumpeting,
merrily squeezing Charmin
rubbing her/his tuchus
excellently exhibiting posterior
as chief motormouth sound
of combo motorboat hummer.

Mein kampf elapsed distressfully
even now scores of decades later
ah..., the joys of amazingly aging gracefully
recalling happily never
being beat into pulp daily courtesy
imagine dragons saving me hide  
'though dimming sense and sensibility
before (appearing gratefully dead)
lifeless body dumped into gully,
nevertheless all the while fully
maintaining consciousness, and forcefully
summoning forth latent powers gleefully
choking living daylights masterfully

delivering just desserts upon Tom Viglione,
whose plaintive laments truthfully
resonate as blessed music
to ears unaccustomed hearing pitifully
sounding long overdue comeuppance
forever disbelieving wrongfully
perpetrated intimidating injustice
witnessed courtesy mine doppelgänger,
who wanted to strangle  
the m*r f*rs yearningly
fueling an ordinarily meek lad
only in his dreams, he envisions zestfully.

Pugnacious thuggish hooligans... although
decades long since elapsed,
whereby muscle bound hoodlums
jockeyed to rain
one after another verbal Hawaiian punch,
and bandied fist viz physical blow
threatening introverted diminutive boy
who, no surprise did eventually,
albeit (shamefacedly, sneakingly,
and stuntedly) didst grow

(as an aside resembled anorexic
Kris Kringle **... **... **...),
which long sleeved Santa suit
rendered invisible liver spots;      
said epidermal splotches black and indigo
wracked (in my pinion), impacted, and affected...,
this punster, he haint Joe
King, but upholds true value
nudging anonymous reader to chuckle
thru contrived written words y'know

good humor less or mo'
yours truly aspires toward po'
whit tree linkedin with infusing,
feebly, lamely, and quirkily
(no matter recognizing ex post facto)
impossible mission reporting punks to principal,
hence describing, envisioning, forsaking passivity
as defensive modus operandi status quo
finally freeing mine unsung
inner foreigner juke box hero.

Try as thee most persuasive person might,
he/him, she/her,
they, them... can never wean
yours truly always objected
being told when to bathe/shower
particularly when puberty
found yours truly a tween
and my mother (deceased eighteen
plus years - sess her bowl),
she exerted authority

and told her "take a bath,
or no supper"
analogous to a queen,
strict disciplinarian to boot
who wedded her king
(my late father) at age nineteen
the latter (day saint) quite keen
nevertheless both experienced
love towards each other
and tricked out their progeny

(myself included) with halloween
getup, I vaguely recall Amelie Beth
(their eldest daughter -
older sister of mine)
donned as an angel
lighting up night sky, an empyrean
permanent heavenly fixture
popular through Byzantine
epoch, which blinded
her brother (me),
cuz yours truly, the devil in disguise.

Here I sit scores of decades
now edging closer to the edge of night,
and approaching those twilight years
remembering protesting vehemently
(way past the bewitching hour)
not wanting to wash myself
in the tub (water frigid cold), I write
how mother dearest,
whose presence I wanted to smite

this puny progeny
grappling as a neophyte
whose Lilliputian stature
(when a prepubescent)
a over five feet in height
who when constantly
teased courtesy bullies
ran back to ma mommy
whose son totally affright.
If employed in social services field, why
the above might justifiably
smack of insubordination
hashtagging me as Pigpen thereby
wharf fare prompting me
to cleanse myself diving off a Quai
in an effort for Peanuts gallery
to accept yours truly well nigh
but unfortunately
getting mistakenly captured
as a prisoner of war

forced by Japanese to construct
two parallel bridges spanning
the river Kwai
as part of Burma Railway,
also called the Death Railway,
for the many lives
lost in its construction,
but my daring do,
(and boyish good looks)
found yours truly
whisked away to the island of Hawaii,

where hula dancers  
choreographed, entranced, and finessed
their seductive routines
a native lass smitten courtesy
one wily word wizard
whose courage bucked up
after munching powder milk biscuits
taken as mistress
helped beget our daughter,
who became apple of mine eye.

at Henry Kline Boyer Elementary School
interestingly enough landed me a grubhub grab bag.

I rooted thru poetry anthology of mine,
and came across an unpublished poem
by one obscure poet (me), whose trademark
wit and wisdom hallmark
cardinal characteristics
of posthumous fame and fortune
largesse most likely
tabby bestowed upon grand kittens -
appended courtesy Facebook
since none of my two (both
twenty something aged) darling daughters
opted to be fruitful and multiply.

Courtesy brainchild of dear old dad
(actually when alive
and in his prime, he happened to be spunky
as an overgrown lad),
unanimous assent between him and mother
(she also when young, his junior by a tad)
both agreed their quiet natured son
(yours truly plus younger sister)
best be outfitted as *******.

Anyway, as a Halloween costume,
one year during early grade school,
my father got the brilliant idea
for his sole son to be dressed
with one of a kind getup.

Missus Shaner – long since gone to dust
(the talon clawed, shriveled
relic of a dinosaur,
who taught fifth grade)
gave me first prize,
and subsequently felt so convinced
about authenticity of this kid
being “privileged white trash”,
she notified another kid
dressed as a janitor
to dispense with me
in the school dumpster.

The sanitation disposal company
drove me (and subsequently
dumped yours truly
among the real *******
in the dumpster)
to nearest landfill
loaded with all kinds of junk
such as food scraps, recyclables,
and soiled diapers.

Over a short span of time,
the detritus commingled
into one noxious brew
of a despicable fly haven,
whereby jiggling lifelike maggots,
jumpstarted, lunched, and nursed putrescence
re: reeking and teeming vibrantly
with yum zuck for a swamp thing,
I seemed to be metamorphosed
into sewer rat as if by some cruel hoax.
Nothing prepared, neither sickened
nor violated senses
of smell, sight, taste, and touch
to the maximum factor
intolerant of odoriferous odious stench.

Each pestilential assault
issued an appalling refrain
courtesy Fiona Apple's:
The Idler Wheel Is Wiser
than the Driver of the *****
and Whipping Cords Will Serve You
More than Ropes Will Ever Do.

Before mine myopic bespectacled eyes
(smarting from constant comet drubbing irritants
(which glasses – rather bifocals –
caked with smudge good as naught),
stayed wide shut from inundation
of said corrosive gaseous shaped
oxbow lake comprising wreath like wisps.

Liberty vis a vis in sight
envisioned visibly threatened offshoots
of tendril spikes; snaking sneakily,
sordidly slithering silently,
yet straightaway as a scene
from some spooky sideshow
or “haunted house”.

This ugly slop
splashed upon mine formerly
pristine academic uniform
appeared near identical
to the grub hub (the lunch lady served)
splattered sundry speckles
sans sundry detritus,
which found me writhing with nausea.

Thee nasty muck and mire
found this formerly introverted boy
transformed into a sponge bobbing
squarely panting creature
from the black lagoon,
whose skinny sea legs
sought semi-solid surface
to stand upright position amidst
variegated flotsam and jetsam.

Dishabille appearance acquired
a fresh splattered coat of rancid slimy
green eggs and ham with bacon
covered gangly arms
(among other bit pieces of moldy clothes,
food and iconic library oddment)
ricocheted unpredictably as trash truck
violently shook up and down
all night long en route on this highway to hell
found me thunderstruck
(before being buried alive in Moyer’s Dump),
which toxic brew would be declared
a SuperFund Site
and shuttered in the near future.

Once Robert Hall wardrobe
affixed with a capital one fancy feast
of grateful dead roadkill,
kickstarter from some automotive contraption,
and plenti of fish heads
(with thine spongy bobbing square pants
trimmed with lovely bones),
I felt indistinguishable
from regular riffraff riding shotgun.

When random trucker parked and stopped,
the awful bin laden made ready
to empty contents within the mountain
of olfactory noxious material.

A thought occurred,
that now might be the golden
(or rather **** steeped) opportunity
to extricate myself
from morass of mish mashed,
spud nicked mine
linkedin kindled juggernaut,
icky first class bric a brac.

Even as old (dish) married
(spooning) curmudgeon,
who receives social security disability
linkedin with social anxiety)
chose the fork less traveled
aye pucker with sunken cheeks,
(especially without dentures)
and raspily suction toothless mouth
drawing reminiscent guffaws affecting
attempt impersonating plumber

(think unclogging toilet)
please support your local ******
back in the day one
long haired pencil neck geeks palled
around with another
hirsute nerd - Roger Kummerer,
(who both of us graduated Methacton
High School class of 1977),
and yours truly readily
admitting, alluding, and attesting

without shadow of doubt
representing the dumber
than rocks of said beastie boys
bandits, donning particolored pachyderm
gabardine garb getup trumpeting,
especially as Mummer
on each New Year's Day
with bare *** tuchus
excellently imitating courtesy said orifice
(as chief motormouth) sound
of combo motorboat hummer.

Ah... the joys of amazingly aging gracefully
happily recalling never being
beat into ****** pulp dully
imagining dimming sense and sensibility
before (appearing gratefully dead)
lifeless body dumped into gully
nonetheless all the while fully
maintaining conscious, and forcefully
summoning forth latent powers gleefully
choking living daylights masterfully

delivering just desserts upon Tom Viglione,
whose plaintive laments truthfully
resonate as blessed music
to ears unaccustomed hearing pitifully
sounding long overdue comeuppance
forever disbelieving wrongfully
perpetrated injustice
witnessed impossible mission
fueling an ordinarily meek lad
only in his dreams, he envisions zestfully.

Pugnacious thuggish hooligans... although
decades long since elapsed, whereby hoodlums
jockeyed to rain one after another verbal blow
threatening introverted diminutive boy
who, no surprise did eventually,
albeit (stuntedly) grow
(as an aside resembled anorexic
Santa Claus **... **... **...)
still wracked, impacted, affected...,
this punster, he haint Joe
King, but upholds valuable humor less or mo'
feebly, lamely, and quirkily aspires toward po'
whit tree linkedin with infusing,
(no matter ex post facto)
freeing mine unsung hero.