"hashtagged" poems - Hello Poetry

1. Had you a viral video, you’d watch it more than once. 2. Instagram hearts make you smile, even from strangers. 3. Which would you rather: *** or Zuckerberg friending you on Facebook. No, this isn’t a Cosmo quiz — it’s a social experiment. Because no one ACTUALLY answers these questions honestly without looking like that ****** at the pool trying to get as MANY high fives as possible. Yet, we all do it. Alone or in public. Day or night. LED screen spice up our lives. It was probably best embodied by that girl taking selfie after selfie after selfie after selfie, filmed for minutes on the way to school, the video soon posted, by her dad trying to teach her a lesson? Or trying to get attention? Either way, he might as well have hashtagged it #socialsuicide. Like most humor we laughed at her because we are her. We see a dripping characterture ************ to itself in public. Wait, it, sounds wrong when you name it. But there is a name for it: Digital ************ aka Self-adoration aka Narcississism. You won’t agree that you do it too. But I’ll bet most of you get excited thinking about notifications too. Why is that? You’d never admit it. You can say I smelt it, so I dealt it. Call me a preacher, a hater, or a hypocrit. But I'd rather you call me a digital masterbater too. And then remember the last time you opened Instagram or Facebook or Twitter and took a selfie or hashtagged something or posted a status that your still breathing. How long has it been — a minute, an hour, a day? Now try making fun of her.

0

Aug 29, 2014

Aug 29, 2014 at 11:20 AM UTC

courtney-pruitt

Digital ************

1. Had you a viral video, you’d watch it more than once. 2. Instagram hearts make you smile, even from strangers. 3. Which would you rather: *** or Zuckerberg friending you on Facebook. No, this isn’t a Cosmo quiz — it’s a social experiment. Because no one ACTUALLY answers these questions honestly without looking like that ****** at the pool trying to get as MANY high fives as possible. Yet, we all do it. Alone or in public. Day or night. LED screen spice up our lives. It was probably best embodied by that girl taking selfie after selfie after selfie after selfie, filmed for minutes on the way to school, the video soon posted, by her dad trying to teach her a lesson? Or trying to get attention? Either way, he might as well have hashtagged it #socialsuicide. Like most humor we laughed at her because we are her. We see a dripping characterture ************ to itself in public. Wait, it, sounds wrong when you name it. But there is a name for it: Digital ************ aka Self-adoration aka Narcississism. You won’t agree that you do it too. But I’ll bet most of you get excited thinking about notifications too. Why is that? You’d never admit it. You can say I smelt it, so I dealt it. Call me a preacher, a hater, or a hypocrit. But I'd rather you call me a digital masterbater too. And then remember the last time you opened Instagram or Facebook or Twitter and took a selfie or hashtagged something or posted a status that your still breathing. How long has it been — a minute, an hour, a day? Now try making fun of her.

87

An airplane crashes into an uncharted island and hundreds of people die in the burning debris, and somewhere a group of boys and girls are taking selfies as they stand next to a burning office building. Thousands of teenagers sit on the couch and eat ice cream until the buttons on their pants explode off. Kids light themselves on fires as if they were monks from the Tiananmen Square, trying to gain acceptance, their dreams of stardom translated through a series of YouTube comments. We can't afford books for college because the tuition is ridiculous, but these glossy tabloid magazines are only a few bucks; pick one to set the course of your life. Middle-aged people spend their lives indoors, away from the thirsty, hungry, withering children, and check how many likes did their photos receive on their smartphones. Pornographic images in front of our tired faces, our eyes locked to the screen and we do not blink as our memories become embedded with objectification. So we don't look up and see the chaos transpiring. Cat memes and colorful gifs hold our attention while our parents slave away at their boomerang-shaped desks, trapped in clustered cubicles. I saw a post on Facebook of a girl who was sexually assaulted at a house party and now her name was being hashtagged and kids were posing in photographs, laying on the floor, legs and arms sprawled out, left and right, trying to mimic the injustice. We swipe right to find our future hookups, but what if our future husbands and wives were on the left? Society spends millions of dollars on drinks to numb our conscience, until our brain cells are wretched like the homeless guy on the street corner drinking liquor from a coffee mug. Israel and Palestine battle each other day after day while our generation gossips about Solange Knowles beating up Jay-Z with her patent leather purse as if that news conquers every other bit of information out there. The world will always be corrupt, but it suffers more from the apathy that belongs to us.

0

Jun 24, 2016

Jun 24, 2016 at 7:56 PM UTC

dannyartreads

Clean each cell with a rag

An airplane crashes into an uncharted island and hundreds of people die in the burning debris, and somewhere a group of boys and girls are taking selfies as they stand next to a burning office building. Thousands of teenagers sit on the couch and eat ice cream until the buttons on their pants explode off. Kids light themselves on fires as if they were monks from the Tiananmen Square, trying to gain acceptance, their dreams of stardom translated through a series of YouTube comments. We can't afford books for college because the tuition is ridiculous, but these glossy tabloid magazines are only a few bucks; pick one to set the course of your life. Middle-aged people spend their lives indoors, away from the thirsty, hungry, withering children, and check how many likes did their photos receive on their smartphones. Pornographic images in front of our tired faces, our eyes locked to the screen and we do not blink as our memories become embedded with objectification. So we don't look up and see the chaos transpiring. Cat memes and colorful gifs hold our attention while our parents slave away at their boomerang-shaped desks, trapped in clustered cubicles. I saw a post on Facebook of a girl who was sexually assaulted at a house party and now her name was being hashtagged and kids were posing in photographs, laying on the floor, legs and arms sprawled out, left and right, trying to mimic the injustice. We swipe right to find our future hookups, but what if our future husbands and wives were on the left? Society spends millions of dollars on drinks to numb our conscience, until our brain cells are wretched like the homeless guy on the street corner drinking liquor from a coffee mug. Israel and Palestine battle each other day after day while our generation gossips about Solange Knowles beating up Jay-Z with her patent leather purse as if that news conquers every other bit of information out there. The world will always be corrupt, but it suffers more from the apathy that belongs to us.

13

This letter, is to inform you, about a bomb threat that we received this, morning. Name of a Name Unified Consolidated ISD, a State-Recognized School of Somethingness, Where Kids Come First under the theme of All The Kids All The Curriculum All The Time is committed, to the safety and education of all our students and We Are Number One, Go #Thundercatbears!, ‘Cause We are #All-Hashtagged in Unity and Oneness. We also, want to clearly communicate with split infinitives And crazy commas all over the place to parents about safety issues when they get found out arise. This morning, a phone call, was received, by the receptionist at The-Latest-Name-Held-in-Place-with-Velcro-Until-the-Next-Name-Change Elementary School and Essential Spirit Dreams New Dawn Progress Learning and Technology Center of the Future stating a bomb was present, on the campus. After conferring with the Threat Assessment Team, The Standard Response Protocol team, the Chinkypin-Lizard Lick Police Department parked in the handicapped spaces at Tia Jolene’s Goremay Eats ‘n’ Bokays out next to the Interstate, the cheerleader sponsors, Facebook, Twitter, our attorneys, and Superintendent Dr. Hamestus Goodoleboy “Spike” Ponsonby III, the students were rapidly, and efficiently evacuated to a safe area up in the football bleachers where they would be more obvious targets and the school was professionally and thoroughly swept for anything suspicious and untoward. During this time, when no students were in danger, another call was received stating that gunshots were fired in the school. There were no gunshots, fired in the school and no children were in danger at any time. Currently, we’re are is allowing students, who were never in any danger, to return to school as usual where there was never any danger at any time. We will have extra counselors and therapists available if students or parents needs supports are counsolining in spelling ‘n’ sentence structure. The students were never in any danger at any time. All threats to our school where their was never any danger and students who were never in any danger will be taken seriously immediately and thoroughly and investigated thoroughly and fully except for that call last week that we managed to keep covered up. We wanted to inform you of the correct facts because our correct facts are the only facts so you can discuss them with your child/ren Of any race, *** color, creed, religion, or gender identification or not and emphasize the seriousness of our facts, which are the only facts. If you discover Any facts untoward or out of place please contact us At the district office at *** *** xxxx ext *** or the Chinkypin - Lizard Lick Police Department immediately and thoroughly. No children were in, danger at any time.

0

Feb 20, 2019

Feb 20, 2019 at 5:07 PM UTC

lawrence-hall

No Students Were Ever in Danger at Any Time

This letter, is to inform you, about a bomb threat that we received this, morning. Name of a Name Unified Consolidated ISD, a State-Recognized School of Somethingness, Where Kids Come First under the theme of All The Kids All The Curriculum All The Time is committed, to the safety and education of all our students and We Are Number One, Go #Thundercatbears!, ‘Cause We are #All-Hashtagged in Unity and Oneness. We also, want to clearly communicate with split infinitives And crazy commas all over the place to parents about safety issues when they get found out arise. This morning, a phone call, was received, by the receptionist at The-Latest-Name-Held-in-Place-with-Velcro-Until-the-Next-Name-Change Elementary School and Essential Spirit Dreams New Dawn Progress Learning and Technology Center of the Future stating a bomb was present, on the campus. After conferring with the Threat Assessment Team, The Standard Response Protocol team, the Chinkypin-Lizard Lick Police Department parked in the handicapped spaces at Tia Jolene’s Goremay Eats ‘n’ Bokays out next to the Interstate, the cheerleader sponsors, Facebook, Twitter, our attorneys, and Superintendent Dr. Hamestus Goodoleboy “Spike” Ponsonby III, the students were rapidly, and efficiently evacuated to a safe area up in the football bleachers where they would be more obvious targets and the school was professionally and thoroughly swept for anything suspicious and untoward. During this time, when no students were in danger, another call was received stating that gunshots were fired in the school. There were no gunshots, fired in the school and no children were in danger at any time. Currently, we’re are is allowing students, who were never in any danger, to return to school as usual where there was never any danger at any time. We will have extra counselors and therapists available if students or parents needs supports are counsolining in spelling ‘n’ sentence structure. The students were never in any danger at any time. All threats to our school where their was never any danger and students who were never in any danger will be taken seriously immediately and thoroughly and investigated thoroughly and fully except for that call last week that we managed to keep covered up. We wanted to inform you of the correct facts because our correct facts are the only facts so you can discuss them with your child/ren Of any race, *** color, creed, religion, or gender identification or not and emphasize the seriousness of our facts, which are the only facts. If you discover Any facts untoward or out of place please contact us At the district office at *** *** xxxx ext *** or the Chinkypin - Lizard Lick Police Department immediately and thoroughly. No children were in, danger at any time.

71

You three believe in creating scarcity, NOT union. You build HOV lanes for your luxury cars, caring less how efficient they are. They roll royce cross your game board, fuming trails of money. Bell Atlantic bought Madison Avenue, you bought all the properties. Now tenants can't avoid the traffic or the noise of an internet rolled in palms and diced spiraling to speed limits ... ... ... ... and red highways ... ... ... ... and orange traffic cones that block hybrid cars, already swerving to avoid bankruptcy. We STOP the STOP people STOP moving, our preamble crumbles to a STOP, becoming a eulogy — an ideal dumb to power trippery, after Time Warner and Comcast merged, allies on opposite sides of the game board. Verizon, Comcast, AT&T; together you own pretty much everyone but Fox and Disney, (yet have invested in them heavily). Verizon, Comcast, AT&T; your oligarchy is NBC, Universal, CNN, Warner Brothers, and now FullScreen, family-friendly nepotism that inbreeds bearing deaf drones bored of flying, over Why Beyonce is a Feminist. or Why Ferguson was racist, media's offspring just keep clicking, the headline genocide victims basking in concentrated lamps for a sliver of attention. Verizon, Comcast, AT&T; Now you want the backend buffering, bulging eyes and emptying pockets of those Spocked into believing, hyperspeed was ever necessary. No choice when the exits are slow and there are no backroads. Verizon, Comcast, AT&T;, offspring of the Bell Atlantic Company, we will not let your ****** populate the internet. Call it Capitalism, but your playing Monopoly, yanking the carpet underneath to the wood of Tyranny. You shamed Bell's invention by stringing together telephone internet, and entertainment companies until you could be lazy. Monkeys who spent millions to shriek at government parties about the communication machine, a system downloaded so slowly, we did not act on cons piracy theories, when Amazon made online shopping so easy. Dear Internet Service Providers, so called ISP's, WE ARE DONE playing Monopoly. Our collective voice will shout blasphemy on your streets, hashtagged net neutrality, till you're counting pennies. So empty your Washington banks cause it's 3 a.m. and no ONE is winning.

0

Nov 6, 2014

Nov 6, 2014 at 3:09 PM UTC

courtney-pruitt

Dear Verizon, Comcast, & AT&T,

You three believe in creating scarcity, NOT union. You build HOV lanes for your luxury cars, caring less how efficient they are. They roll royce cross your game board, fuming trails of money. Bell Atlantic bought Madison Avenue, you bought all the properties. Now tenants can't avoid the traffic or the noise of an internet rolled in palms and diced spiraling to speed limits ... ... ... ... and red highways ... ... ... ... and orange traffic cones that block hybrid cars, already swerving to avoid bankruptcy. We STOP the STOP people STOP moving, our preamble crumbles to a STOP, becoming a eulogy — an ideal dumb to power trippery, after Time Warner and Comcast merged, allies on opposite sides of the game board. Verizon, Comcast, AT&T; together you own pretty much everyone but Fox and Disney, (yet have invested in them heavily). Verizon, Comcast, AT&T; your oligarchy is NBC, Universal, CNN, Warner Brothers, and now FullScreen, family-friendly nepotism that inbreeds bearing deaf drones bored of flying, over Why Beyonce is a Feminist. or Why Ferguson was racist, media's offspring just keep clicking, the headline genocide victims basking in concentrated lamps for a sliver of attention. Verizon, Comcast, AT&T; Now you want the backend buffering, bulging eyes and emptying pockets of those Spocked into believing, hyperspeed was ever necessary. No choice when the exits are slow and there are no backroads. Verizon, Comcast, AT&T;, offspring of the Bell Atlantic Company, we will not let your ****** populate the internet. Call it Capitalism, but your playing Monopoly, yanking the carpet underneath to the wood of Tyranny. You shamed Bell's invention by stringing together telephone internet, and entertainment companies until you could be lazy. Monkeys who spent millions to shriek at government parties about the communication machine, a system downloaded so slowly, we did not act on cons piracy theories, when Amazon made online shopping so easy. Dear Internet Service Providers, so called ISP's, WE ARE DONE playing Monopoly. Our collective voice will shout blasphemy on your streets, hashtagged net neutrality, till you're counting pennies. So empty your Washington banks cause it's 3 a.m. and no ONE is winning.

109

When may I? Not now under the lampscope in my G.I. gear—little doughboy to hashtagged Iraqi vet. Not now with my hand tentatively against your sickly body. "Two weeks. We're sorry." Not now as the pallbearer, my clutch like vacuum-sealed lips parted for you. Held back by what is left of your afterlife pride. Not now as I watch a hurricane gradually run aground, wondering if the waves will crash and if the sea will come inland, flood your grave in wet kisses. If only it could stop howling for five seconds, just to hear me.

0

Apr 25, 2013

Apr 25, 2013 at 3:11 PM UTC

cara-d

As Sad as This

When may I? Not now under the lampscope in my G.I. gear—little doughboy to hashtagged Iraqi vet. Not now with my hand tentatively against your sickly body. "Two weeks. We're sorry." Not now as the pallbearer, my clutch like vacuum-sealed lips parted for you. Held back by what is left of your afterlife pride. Not now as I watch a hurricane gradually run aground, wondering if the waves will crash and if the sea will come inland, flood your grave in wet kisses. If only it could stop howling for five seconds, just to hear me.

24

A wind passed, and roused my lethargic mind then, i noticed golden yellow leaves starting to drop from the money tree. as a young girl, i recall chasing leaves falling careful not to let them touch the green grass. i pondered on my own invented game...do i run? to catch, or not to catch.....even one leaf was a child's dilemma...that became mine, for, a leaf falling, is a poem, starting... a love...blooming....or, an elusive one or one that's struggling... after a fall, comes the rising...where something should be bravely emerging, this is the time, when tamed, unnamed feelings suddenly, become verses, sliding from the tongue, mind is active, hand is alive, pen hurriedly writes the soon-to-be-born poem, ...the one hashtagged...chased...or sought. a word, a name, a face forgotten, now remembered, a love...that is fading, or falling out, all these should be held, grabbed...captured! before they truly escape from our grasp or, be blown further away...by a cold, autumn wind ...and leave us drowning, in a stream of regret... Sally Copyright April 19, 2017 Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

0

Apr 19, 2017

Apr 19, 2017 at 4:30 AM UTC

sally-a-bayan

Captured

A wind passed, and roused my lethargic mind then, i noticed golden yellow leaves starting to drop from the money tree. as a young girl, i recall chasing leaves falling careful not to let them touch the green grass. i pondered on my own invented game...do i run? to catch, or not to catch.....even one leaf was a child's dilemma...that became mine, for, a leaf falling, is a poem, starting... a love...blooming....or, an elusive one or one that's struggling... after a fall, comes the rising...where something should be bravely emerging, this is the time, when tamed, unnamed feelings suddenly, become verses, sliding from the tongue, mind is active, hand is alive, pen hurriedly writes the soon-to-be-born poem, ...the one hashtagged...chased...or sought. a word, a name, a face forgotten, now remembered, a love...that is fading, or falling out, all these should be held, grabbed...captured! before they truly escape from our grasp or, be blown further away...by a cold, autumn wind ...and leave us drowning, in a stream of regret... Sally Copyright April 19, 2017 Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

27

#myskin #brown #myblood #red #mylife #twittered #hashtagged #andreduced

0

Jul 8, 2016

Jul 8, 2016 at 2:12 AM UTC

starburst

#hashtag

#myskin #brown #myblood #red #mylife #twittered #hashtagged #andreduced

8

Psyche soaking wet with devout atheism, this lifetime skeptic now tenuously linkedin with Unitarianism attests, said upbringing proffered, mine credo, gestalt, leitmotif, sans abstractionism eludes elucidation, delineation, clarification... some readers might dismiss as absurdism defying established dogma fixed absolutism millenniums, would be hashtagged heretical, and such cavalier blithe apostasy, declared alarmism, now - twenty first century extant accursed as alcoholism within various non Western statecraft enclaves, barely tolerating agnosticism no fool to ********* proclamations antithetical opinionism where condemnation to death (I obediently, humbly, and gladly accept) inadequate punishment, cited on par relegated to alienism, amoralism, antiestablishmentarianism... never does this anachronism loosely cabled with pioneerism, (when ****** forests bedecked America), a veritable wilderness, necessitated quintessential self survivalism knowhow long since forgot, which dependence on consumerism finds yours truly afflicted against capitalism commercialism, conformism, cultism et cetera more aligned with reliance on individualism nearly an extinct species, where anti materialism betrays, cavils, and discourages ecocentrism, versus profit motive maximization, though of late environmental dynamism aggressive representative thank you Greta Ernman Thunberg regarding criticism, nee opprobrious global ecological terrorism mandating staunch defeatism as stave bulwark against criminal determinism to wreak irrevocable traitorous dogmatism predicated on tenets of egocentrism brewed, steeped, and galvanized in exceptionalism of **** sapiens and expansionism exclusive to said primate that requires serious assessment, asper bracketing craven doctrinairism edified fundamentalism granting humans unfettered expansionism!

0

Mar 23, 2019

Mar 23, 2019 at 3:52 PM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

Netherworld Unearthed Within This Mind

Psyche soaking wet with devout atheism, this lifetime skeptic now tenuously linkedin with Unitarianism attests, said upbringing proffered, mine credo, gestalt, leitmotif, sans abstractionism eludes elucidation, delineation, clarification... some readers might dismiss as absurdism defying established dogma fixed absolutism millenniums, would be hashtagged heretical, and such cavalier blithe apostasy, declared alarmism, now - twenty first century extant accursed as alcoholism within various non Western statecraft enclaves, barely tolerating agnosticism no fool to ********* proclamations antithetical opinionism where condemnation to death (I obediently, humbly, and gladly accept) inadequate punishment, cited on par relegated to alienism, amoralism, antiestablishmentarianism... never does this anachronism loosely cabled with pioneerism, (when ****** forests bedecked America), a veritable wilderness, necessitated quintessential self survivalism knowhow long since forgot, which dependence on consumerism finds yours truly afflicted against capitalism commercialism, conformism, cultism et cetera more aligned with reliance on individualism nearly an extinct species, where anti materialism betrays, cavils, and discourages ecocentrism, versus profit motive maximization, though of late environmental dynamism aggressive representative thank you Greta Ernman Thunberg regarding criticism, nee opprobrious global ecological terrorism mandating staunch defeatism as stave bulwark against criminal determinism to wreak irrevocable traitorous dogmatism predicated on tenets of egocentrism brewed, steeped, and galvanized in exceptionalism of **** sapiens and expansionism exclusive to said primate that requires serious assessment, asper bracketing craven doctrinairism edified fundamentalism granting humans unfettered expansionism!

56

Wakeful zero, peerless March, longbow that bears the seasons’ arch, when mist and windstorms pelt the blank slates of cold-stupored trees. Do I wake up yet? Dare I to unfreeze? they ponder, short of language, brains abuzz in taproots, dormant xylem filling phylum with a flash of namefulness past gray despair— who grows? What draws them there, gathered before they sprouted in the epoch mire of waste that feeds them, nurture dense distraction from the trod-upon. Stay put! They rest a lot upon your back, from holding nests to lightning’s crack— yet time forgets you. Hashtagged, color-marked you’re not, a name once only March forgot now baffles subjects of a sheltered, sweaty throne. Good thing you hold your own whate’er they call you. Naming stirs you from the sleep you keep, six thousand nicknames ere you rest again. And man, forget you as he may, looks to your silent cue to stay, or migrate to some panicked place you never knew. What came before was rough— you’ll grow through people, too.

0

Nov 29, 2019

Nov 29, 2019 at 3:04 PM UTC

rausmend

When the Trees Choose Their Name

Wakeful zero, peerless March, longbow that bears the seasons’ arch, when mist and windstorms pelt the blank slates of cold-stupored trees. Do I wake up yet? Dare I to unfreeze? they ponder, short of language, brains abuzz in taproots, dormant xylem filling phylum with a flash of namefulness past gray despair— who grows? What draws them there, gathered before they sprouted in the epoch mire of waste that feeds them, nurture dense distraction from the trod-upon. Stay put! They rest a lot upon your back, from holding nests to lightning’s crack— yet time forgets you. Hashtagged, color-marked you’re not, a name once only March forgot now baffles subjects of a sheltered, sweaty throne. Good thing you hold your own whate’er they call you. Naming stirs you from the sleep you keep, six thousand nicknames ere you rest again. And man, forget you as he may, looks to your silent cue to stay, or migrate to some panicked place you never knew. What came before was rough— you’ll grow through people, too.

33

(Me slippery fingers slither, slip and slide splashing ala Jackson ******* sans slap dash experimental, swiftly tailored and harried writing style, yes on par with purging, spewing, venting...unexpurgated, unexpressed, unexplained... words, which this Engelbert Humperdinck singer/songwriter, (whose name inexplicably popped into the mind of this Dadaist) offers "FAKE" apology for any self inflicted, or sadomasochistic flagellated cranial contusions out of utter futility to make sense regarding following gobbledygook! GOOD LUCK! Mine groovy palmar flexion creases forever moistened by porous size **** leaking levees provoking deluge outranking Biblical flood - handy history (in miniature) replete with Ark keel logical artifacts discovered by hall n oats marked wainwright - about 10 stone and 5 pound huckster, circa Fin de siècle, when callous ten hooks (calisthenics, eh) caught without Noah shadow of a doubt proof positive by Matthew Scott, (amat sure his surname) linkedin to storied testament rivalling epic of Gilgamesh, nee the entire spoilers alerts since dawn of civilization writ small impossible mission to decipher indelibly etched, (what appear as Egyptian hieroglyphics), methinks his perspiration contains preservative agent, (a natural formaldehyde like substance) generated nsync to maintain eternal youthfulness, which stumps medical community, and earned him hashtagged "hotmail" (eagerly sought after human commodity), a blessing and curse palms plagued with chronic wetness, yet lines (little flushed streams of consciousness) rowed by itty bitty teensy weensy merry daydreamers harkens back when life held faint promise for scattered (contra) bands of bipedal hominids fiercely competing with trumpeting (Taj Mahal sized) beasts (donned tousled windswept hirsute trademark) Euclid heir'm barreling along barren steppes all around the one straggly mulberry bush, where one pensive monkey (protohuman) chased the weasel all around the world wide web.

0

Feb 13, 2019

Feb 13, 2019 at 4:02 PM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

Palm History Awash With Drips

(Me slippery fingers slither, slip and slide splashing ala Jackson ******* sans slap dash experimental, swiftly tailored and harried writing style, yes on par with purging, spewing, venting...unexpurgated, unexpressed, unexplained... words, which this Engelbert Humperdinck singer/songwriter, (whose name inexplicably popped into the mind of this Dadaist) offers "FAKE" apology for any self inflicted, or sadomasochistic flagellated cranial contusions out of utter futility to make sense regarding following gobbledygook! GOOD LUCK! Mine groovy palmar flexion creases forever moistened by porous size **** leaking levees provoking deluge outranking Biblical flood - handy history (in miniature) replete with Ark keel logical artifacts discovered by hall n oats marked wainwright - about 10 stone and 5 pound huckster, circa Fin de siècle, when callous ten hooks (calisthenics, eh) caught without Noah shadow of a doubt proof positive by Matthew Scott, (amat sure his surname) linkedin to storied testament rivalling epic of Gilgamesh, nee the entire spoilers alerts since dawn of civilization writ small impossible mission to decipher indelibly etched, (what appear as Egyptian hieroglyphics), methinks his perspiration contains preservative agent, (a natural formaldehyde like substance) generated nsync to maintain eternal youthfulness, which stumps medical community, and earned him hashtagged "hotmail" (eagerly sought after human commodity), a blessing and curse palms plagued with chronic wetness, yet lines (little flushed streams of consciousness) rowed by itty bitty teensy weensy merry daydreamers harkens back when life held faint promise for scattered (contra) bands of bipedal hominids fiercely competing with trumpeting (Taj Mahal sized) beasts (donned tousled windswept hirsute trademark) Euclid heir'm barreling along barren steppes all around the one straggly mulberry bush, where one pensive monkey (protohuman) chased the weasel all around the world wide web.

55