The burr shaking in a
Bohemian Awakening
(Long) vintage stare how
her words were spelled
out snake tongue (Short)
The Death
Whats Up* Chap of a sport
Whats Up Doc
Going tick tock Mr. Rick
Don't trick this document
Oh! where did it drop
What!! He made the drop
dead gorgeous dress?

Born to die last lip of the spoonfuls
Cut to the chase with my chap lips
More deaths on the rise to deliver 
 
How love was the
mind controller
Hands out of the grave
couldn't hold her
Like the Boulder Chief head
Hothead on her shoulder
The better herbs of medicine
His racing car hot flame
gasoline

The Rapsody of her melody
holding on to her life
What a unique wife
Until time changes her moods
Opening up her world of flower buds
A different silence of home goods
We do believe we can be

The Champions

But the fallout of promises
Or jobs never big advances

Oh! Christ
Her chapped lips needed some
time to heal where is her next meal
The heat catching a death of cold
But staying alive the second
wind hot Ferrari Italian drive
Feeling deathly-sick faking
your death was no trick

Who disappeared never
really certain
if it was truly their
Building the fire mountain
Don't keep complaining
where the time went
Death of a cold wishes
not to die
where is our youth
Only takes one amazing birth
Lips kissing the fountain
The fortune teller booth

Who would want her chapped lips
Baby Ruth crunchy bar
down the mountain
The love confused her the
death would be
faster going once or twice up
Guilty trip or the graveyard shift
Hangover ski lift with her
Beeswax for chap lips
Taxman on the number rise flirting
What a good chap
In her coffee cup a little Robin birdie
told you

You made your own grave
time on my side or hanging
by a thread of stitches
Hats off up and away
Getting a green facelift of witches
You lived so far the good life
Feeling so wanted
he cooked your meals
He cleaned up your mess wearing
The Chef Apron 
 *He's Wanted the sign
All over the world,
his face is wanted
The fool lips the fuller up lips
The heart went out of touch a deathly cold
She is wearing her heart-shaped lips
Doing what she is told
How the world has been
smudged with
rules
Noone knows where here

All her cracks of her lips
The cute button nose
Not Rudolph the Reindeer
The hunt for the ****** nose
Up close and personal
Lip to his lip journal
Such odds of numbers
So many even deaths
like tumblers
Through the loopers
Love and resentment
The world is a village commitment
Mcdonald Man beef and the
melted lady
cheese
whooper
You got an alert notice
The cast of spells the
fire went high
You couldn't even put it out
The death of a Salesman novice
Papercut snip computer nasty chip
The charcoal grill felt like it burned you
The fires new hires of California
The peace sign
Imagine people with no

Holy water
Whose mind is in order
The Dementia patients
Your own flame so many hot flames
The rest of the world caught a death
of a cold like an old flame

*The Goddess of Venus
The darker edge his cool hummer
Going on a shoot with chapped lips
Who is really keeping tabs

There was nothing to believe in to hold
To restore how do we balance the world
But we are not Gods
Chapped lips caused
such an alarm
All things take time then
it's in harm's way
Someone will understand to pay
Like a settlement
Deathly gray hairs on the pavement
Getting hurt but the best Godly soil
is still their like dirt
There was no reception hell broke
loose riot
Everything was naked sound
No time to sing a duet to
feet on the ground love couplet

That snow drift fall on your face
Who will be where you are in
the next century place

Perhaps your last picture
before you die
How the singer live on
to be remembered
  Why are we not discovered
Can we be saved from redemption
Like you have been squirted on
Like Heinz Ketchup did you catch up
To get his kiss did he feel your death of cold
But never to exist
What is on our bucket list?

life is never what it seems to be, always reoccuring with a thought as put upon the length of arms that revolutionize this thought. . .for those that can be bought,
is day like today less then feeling of want to rot, because so simple as a breeze brought down your temperment to be pleased. . .caught in a storm, that has outlasted
longer then your heart to feel content and warm, to feel the essence of a breath among a group of bad breaths, in other words, to breath among a group of brothers and sisters
from whom you can gain so much. But life is never what it seems to be, instead you look yourself in the mirror pointing at me, you, fool. Glowing from ragging frustration,
the toll blows for you unsurpassable deflation, because it is not for your hand that grows for the motion, to pick which ******* **** you want to lotion. Spearing the reasons,
the ego is your hero, born to work zero, and trusted with such hand to uphold all by command. To twist on the ****, that opens your door, to circumstances i certainly care less
the **** to continue to explore. But with this slight little mention, please pay close attention because this song is a *****. At least to explain the message, my whole is a
whole that takes life time to experience and grow, and appreciate the things that stoop all the levels around me, no barrier, no door, just genuine life experience to bring me
to come to this point to explain to the world something within the self, that is described by astute persons, for whom these ideas carry on to fulfill an immense part of
something that is casually slipped in and never thought about because it is told within reason that humanity cannot be without such astute person's idealogy. For **** sake my
friend, if your have many common sense, think of the common thing that has driven you to come to the conclusion that you have come to about anything. Everything is absolute and
existent and is evoked through the means. . .from the time of your dissapating freedom, as kids, not as adults, because look at how adults are this days. They teach their kids,
and they let others teach their kids, but the kids never get the feeling of being free. I promiss you, that cry or emotion you have experienced due to lack of friendliness from a
neighboring ****, it is an instillement that sparks up many motions of your life to believe into bizarre things the world portrays. For myself, I find the starting point of my
when I first breathed my first sensible air, when I walked in my own two feet without guidance as to where my eyes were seeing. How can a mind be so tender, lost by the misconformed
train thogh after train thought. That is why I find schooling such a fascinating ruthless thing that can be broken into several fashions as to why is that case. But not even
reason to fashion an answer that I know will and is definetly can be viewed to abhold a societal dismark of "wF"is wrong with that guy's mind. He must be **** casing a storm to
bring an ideaology of thought or some **** religion, but that's what so funny to me. I find everything in life comedic, non concerning except at times if I feel similar to
someone adjacent because that is their essence in my prescence, and I feel the need to comfort it, to bring back the importance of that self. The part of life I find so comedic,
how bits and bits and everything with **** have all so many fascinating
things to learn from, the progression of one's mind never attains self worth in the world with something interfering. That something interfering for example, is me personally
writing what is can be taken as pointless and presenting my writing to you how I say I do. But did I say how I am presenting this writing, absolutely not. So brings the funny,
that school teaches the aspect of disfigurament of a person's essence. This thing is a complete oblivion to everything and anything, that because even though I did not specify
how I tone myself on this paper, there is the predicament to assume that I am very angry deranged person who but pokes charasmatically at something no one can grip, because he
is portraying me the image the way I was bred to see. But then it is so **** funny, you can also take my words describing
all that I intend to explain and stick them against me to simplify your circumstances as to the causitive feeling your experiencing, and maybe the confusion that I am creating
noting a significant point that I do write intentionally without any figurative wording, just simply talking about this to evoke a presence of an essence within you that is hindered,
by what type of **** everybody is wearing, where they are starring, who is ******* and adoring, and who's simply the **** because they don't fit in a deranged group, developed by
ego-centric level stingers, who but want either good for you, or it is the drive to profit from you everything. That is, words blah blah, can take stroll
on one day's role and make no complete sense, and all they did were live the sense of a tangled mind that fostered on what has been in some form, taught, over
what you can call a lively existence, considering how much traumatizing headaches this could cause, and resembled among a group of similar constituents with similar reasons
as to whatever the situation might be. I could point this out within one sentence, but it wouldn't hold any deeper understanding of this essence, so instead I decide with all
my reasoning and tremendous experience that even to some, even at this gritty expertisians who grease up the world to guess everything based on study and reasoning by other humans,
who believe all these ideas are shifters to the mind but always stem the relentless, functioning without any perspectives open to the idea that mold humans into one spatial and far better
so called community, which in all it's case has lost the essence to preserve the self without a ***** on the back. That ***** of course is the communal ****, that builds from a
trigger of words, then they teach the brain as if it is known how to be as a functioning unit. The amount doesn't matter, the amount that is thought brings hope, but the most
amount to the self is the function of you, like I feel I function amongst anyone because I have come to terms and realize what really important things I have learned from my life.
My life to some is gripping, only because it sounds unbelievable, but of that life I found the same driving forces that drive madness even today, and has been reaccuring for as
long as some form of expression has been. And in all humiliation of humanity, or as I consider it digression of being self around the bounds of comfortability, it has been
a grand experience to see many a people transgress from the point of my meeting them with a continuous contact to the point of now, and then, and future plausible. But then
and future plausible for me stand out as notions needless of evocations due to the fact that the self is a dwindling factor hung by a rope to swing the way the self first portrayed
to me, and then to the direction away from the first encountered mind. But in all, without senseless ignorance, I do understand these things are studied for a reason, for a reason
that is workable to be as they are for some variables do affect person's in many different way. That is why, the sense of one roof and too many aloof is but a big spoof. With
sensibility, how can forging something into your life help you to achieve greatness within self to portray it in a manner plausible. The only way is as a current flows, so do
the gulls.



where do you. . .come from. . .so many leagues unbeknownst among my dreams.
life is never what it seems. . .until i met your eyes.. . that built
my stongest implication, dire in desire to live a life inspired. . .
but then so is, to dream upon what tends on building motivation. . .
life is beautiful sensation. . .
from the first rainfall with you meeting outside spontaneous realm. . .
we fought the solemn wind to calm our cumbered spirits. . .taking flight,
fighting what might have been. . .semeless to even entertain. . .lost in
each others warmness. . .everything we built tended harmless.

now see how we have. . .related to each other's hearts. . .left the scrutinity
at obscurity prolonged on scale of mirror. . .where it has always belonged.
now it's just time darling
i promiss it wont be long until our roots bind the maximum strong.

from even across the plains, and mountain long trip stains. . .i feel
less pain. . .from what's the phrase non loose then gain, consorting time
absorbing each other's essence in rhyme.
the deepest of sensation of you. . .the meekest of me, makes me be the simple thing
that i've reconnected to . . .to realize, the sensation of you. . .from our first
encounter, i felt deep into your eyes. . .what agree's none behind with lies. . .
you evoked the deepest motion within my sphere of emotion not to betray myself within
this realm and dark frivolous potion. . .for my first set of emotion set on your tone behind
this potion. . .

i face you eye for an eye of every day until i die, but will ever will i die. . .not with you
never. . .darling angel, angel you are my expressive tone to call you so. . .nothing more
is the essense of you that you seem to implore, how busy life must be. . .we need feel free
to good ridance from this fee that life doesn't instill our good griefs beyond simple joys and beliefs. . .
for simply darling we are each other's heart beats, if it's simple smell of you
i will carry out my deeds in hell. . .beneath on hearth this earth, where all of us have been given
birth. . .but sent to spend what is driven by multipolluted cord, the time in blunt approach from
the thing that planted our roots. . .

how i feel you is simply too rich for some dirt to enrich you. . .i simply love and cherish
every bit of your essence, it has lifelong presence that even doing what they call
reminiscing, can't surpass living without missing what they have been reminiscing. . .
i cherish you beyond what little faith can teach about having bigger faith, when all my hopes
ride faithful slopes without elongated stops and rope bearing hopes. . .
my life i see to the extent to remorse only what some feel beyond scope of too openly. . .
but how can i retreat on what i can't stop to feel to protect you from, to their heads we are getting closely. . .
how in the scope of your first essence, can i give up to give way to ruin such pure essence. . .

i understand the world makes a feeling for such pure feeling is counted by blessings. . .
and in order for us to make it, that thought i feel senseless baking . . .constant roll of assorted
reasons for why we bleed to them treasons . . .for how can i express, how simple love doesn't
just digress, or something with time you invest. . .it's simply have been a joy of building
together a foundation for our nest. . .**** the rest. . .**** the pest. . .the world is the best
when sleepers are put to rest and the spark of commune are dwellers dwelling on these mischivers'
locked up chest. . .
to find out that darling. . .you simply are a joy to give me whole, that i'm not uninspired troll
reluctant to breath beside the one he placed his greed upon. . .or her, or it. . but all the essence
is closed and beat, by some known with ideals humanity can't consider too farfetched to bare to grit. . .
and sway to the essence that i hold in my glances. . .are as simple as these branded constructed norms
that most tend to manipulate and distort to one contorted form. . . .so all can bend into one socket for 365
degree view that most tend to agree. . .but never really see.

i know it's many there with this essense around the breeze of an aura, that simply are stranded too far apart by such horror.. .
to relent their essence with their prescence. . .to whom Barbarians find the essence is planted full on messes.
but how can we relate to such things darling. . .when the first glow of your essence showed me life full
of memories by the smile in your eyes, glowing beauty of any sort. . .i feel the world will someday . . .
take flight. . .in my way, but **** that. . .i'm to speak when my message is too simple, provoked only by the
thought, "protect the world its miser mother has been beaten". . .i can never relent, the message that is never
but to contradict what's life has not eaten. . .because of the times put to squares, living life, fostering a step back, into recluce. . .these biches wont even
say cause their too ****. . .to figure out that there's a worrior to stump them pleaded sheets out of wood. . .
i say this out for your sarcasm, elongated this song a bit to give you big ******. . .so when you repose, you
think nothing but what side are the pro's. . .and enter them into oblivion, grasping each by the billion, how
can i repose for i know, without one word it is and has been always come down to the special chosen million. . .

because my darling, i feel the miser that this essence in me you inspire, is up and target for no good. . .for
these pleaded fockers granted themselves unrelentless priveleges for centuries, changing diepers to giving
blood diamond marriages. . .riding on what they call prestine carriages. . .oh what,you don't recognize this
what the world has come to building from everybody's demise. . .feeding on high rise. . .splitting cots in the
rots, most alluded with plots and continued building upon the essence of you, keeping you stewed, brewing up a flu. . .
to this day when i met you. . .
will never cease your memory by only that it was circumstance. . .romance among thieves denying our chance to dance. . .
with one glance, their world just plopped a chance. . .for i know they know who im refering to, without a glance
i'm sure they feel my stance just to look **** eyed puking. . .**** blocking their world to rocking, while else where goes to foster under
this ugly monster. . .stooped on a porch ******* their air, without any underwear. . .haha must be due to how
much pull goes to their hair. . .how do i, they feel ****** diddlidy ****, what, is this person a human or a
restored frame of mind living. . .i can't be what's in my eyes to be believing, but i simply am retarted man. . .
a ******* rough psychological fighting bluff, to them i would. . .but trust me, how could i in my life, i
never could.. . .fall to false pretention, that life is a great invention, that my desire's are for simple
hires. . .for i know my life evolves around that which your first essence, darling, we built stronger everyday
to our future of what we call present. . .

life with you, i simply can't resent. . .but figure out what's best
to make what we don't need to make. . . because the essence uproots life's shrivel of what they call romances. . .
rooting upward from the seed we planted on the day people deside to bleed
all over the notion, that this emotion they conquered stems from shot of elixir handed down from the heavens by
some they call cupid fixer. . .relentless, they push through many dances. . .all so strained and constricted by many
glances, restricting their free essence to feel in whole their life is shot down by simple messes. . . .
but you, none taken, broken and mistaken. . .how can simple things be so. . .when you know my essence for you is
far greater then what one instance can remark for the whole, i feel simply. . .protect you from their hole and
bind you with my essence that strives in whole. . .even through tormenting lonely dances. . .when i saw the world an ugly form. . .
nowhere to want to run to, or feel
resentment.. . where's life going to go. . .if my essence in a whole feeds you. . .away to their
mysterious goal. . .i wouldn't have the patience to ***** their abnormal pretence, as if life is sweet with
such mysterious fowl. . .create little thought to create bigger picture, many aditions just create tensities
among those who bicker, loosing control each time only quicker. . .that's why it's never lesser to speak for the lesser
dresser, or the person they showed you, that looked like he ******* told you, but instead they made the mistake
to grow lower. . . cowering even bolder. . . what **** is the point of that. . .to say it none meeker as if its meant to outcast the bleeker
. . .i'm not that so. . .to scowl like fowl crackhead, loosing self reliance to gr

1975 Art Institute is tactic for Odysseus to put off dealing with real world also investigate range of visual techniques gay instructor fruitlessly endeavors to ****** him he enjoys several affairs with beautiful girls yet Bayli haunts him main building of school is connected behind Art Institute of Chicago Odysseus spends lots of time looking at paintings Edward Hopper’s “Nighthawks” Gustave Caillebotte’s “Paris Street Rainy Day” Ivan Albright’s “Portrait of Dorian Gray” Jackson *******’s “Greyed Rainbow” Georgia O’Keeffe’s “Black Cross New Mexico” Francis Bacon’s “Figure with Meat” Pablo Picasso’s “The Old Guitarist” Balthus’s “Solitaire” Claude Monet’s “Stacks of Wheat” Paul Cezanne’s “The Bathers” Vincent Van Gogh’s “Self-Portrait” Edouard Manet’s “The Mocking of Christ” Henri Toulouse-Lautrec’s “At the Moulin Rouge” Robert Rauschenberg’s “Photograph” Mary Cassatt’s “The Child’s Bath” Peter Blume’s “The Rock” Ed Paschke’s “Mid America” Grant Wood’s “American Gothic” Jasper John’s “Near the Lagoon” and John Singer Sargent James McNeill Whistler Diego Rivera Marsden Hartley Thomas Eakins Winslow Homer his 2nd year at Art Institute involves student teaching during day then at night working as waiter at Ivanhoe Restaurant and Theater gay managers teach him to make Caesar salad tableside and other flamboyant tasks wait staff are all gay men once more Odysseus experiences bias from homosexual regime he is assigned restaurant’s slowest sections it bothers him the way some gay men venomously condescend women and their bodies Odysseus loves women especially their bodies he thinks about how much easier his life would be if he was gay in 1976 the art world is managed by gay curators gay art dealers he wonders if he could be gay yet not realize it can a person be gay but not attracted to one’s own ***? Ivanhoe hires variety of night club acts one night he watches Tom Waits perform on piano in lounge Odysseus feels inspired in 1977 he graduates with teacher’s certification he considers all the sacrifices teachers make and humiliating salaries they put up with he does not want to teach candidly he feels he has nothing yet to teach teaching degree was Mom’s idea Odysseus wants to learn grow paint after Art Institute he flip-flops between styles his artwork suffers from too much schooling and scholastic practice it takes years to find his own voice he has tendency to be self-effacing put himself down often he will declare what do i know? i’m just a stupid painter one topic artists do not like talking about is their failures how much money they cost creation requires resource paint and canvas can be expensive how much money is spent on harebrained ideas that never pan out? most artists resort to cheap or used materials few can afford their dreams he gets job selling encyclopedias that job lasts about 5 weeks then he finds job selling posters at framing store on Broadway between Barry and Wellington Salvador Dali Escher Claude Monet prints are the rage his manager accuse him of lacking initiative being spacey after several months he gets laid off he finds job waiting tables during lunch shift at busy downtown restaurant other waiters are mostly old men from Europe they play cards with each other in between shifts teach Odysseus how to carry 6 hot plates on one arm and 2 in his other hand the job is hectic but money is good experience educates differently than books and college a university degree cannot teach what working in the real world confronts people learn most when they are nobodies he reads Sartre’s “Being And Nothingness” he wants to discover who he is by finding out who he is not often he rides bicycle along lakefront taking different routes sometimes following behind an anonymous bicyclist possibly to come across new way he does not know or to marvel at another person’s interest

truth is this life is too difficult for me the violence hatred turf wars tribalism laws judgments practices rules permits history i’m not prepared emotionally to withstand the realities of this world not equipped psychologically to deal with the stresses of this world not prepared emotionally to withstand the realities of this world not equipped psychologically to deal with the stresses of this world i’m sorry am i repeating myself i apologize i’m not prepared emotionally to withstand the realities of this world not equipped psychologically to deal with the stresses of this world god please protect teach me strength courage fairness compassion wisdom love i’m not prepared emotionally to withstand the realities of this world not equipped psychologically to deal with the stresses of this world

buy divinity purchase devotion earn reward points own 4 bedroom loft with roof garden deck porch pool parking in paradise’s gated community pay for exclusive membership into sainthood become part of inner circle influence determine fate destiny of everything step up to the plate sign on the line immortalize yourself feel the privileges of eternal holiness i’m living inside a nightmare inside a nightmare inside a nightmare hello? i am dizzy in my own self-deceptions lost in my own self-deceptions alone in my own self-deceptions there was a time once but that time is gone there was a place once but that place has vanished there was a life once but that life is spent remember when things were different truth is i’m weak skittish anxious alienated paranoid scared to death pagan idiot stop

breath deeply push stale air out imagine kinder more respectful loving world please god do your stuff angels throw your weight around clean up this mess planets align stars shine ancient spirits raise your voices magic work there are words when spoken can change everything words rooted to spiritual nerves if voiced in  particular order secret passwords capable of setting off persuasions in the mind threads to the heart if a person can figure out which words what order tone of voice rate of pronunciation time of day then that person can summon powers of the supernatural Isis goddess of celestial sway of words whisper secret earth water fire air reveal your alchemy winter spring summer autumn teach about passages patterns sublime eastern western sun fickle moody moon unveil your heavenly equation north south east west  beat the drums blow winds show the path to healing path of the heart blood dirt hair *** bare the mystery of your trance dance the ghost dance sacred woman with ovaries cycles flow smell beautiful girl eyes sweetness strange awkward skinny scruffy boy great bear spirit bird jumping fish wise turtle where are you why is there no one to back me? jean paul sartre what was your last thought before you died? was it nausea? nothingness? or a wish?

I walk into my office/abode, closing the door behind me. It's 9:00 PM. Well, 9:03 PM. I sit down at my desk and open my laptop, placing a tall glass of diet cola on the mouse pad next to the computer as a make-shift coaster. Three ice cubes float in the bubbling blackness. I've found two ice cubes won't make your beverage cold quickly enough, while four ice cubes will overpower it — water it down. You can't have that. It's got to be three ice cubes.

I open up my word processor to a new document. I've got to write something — this blank rectangular expanse has haunted me for long enough. I type some gibberish, then delete it. What do I want to write? I remember reading somewhere you're supposed to write what you like.

I minimize the page and open the Internet. No new emails. I could watch **** for a bit. I've always preferred the "amateur" videos because the people in them resemble actual people. You know, the guy's a little overweight, and the girl's got excessive arm hair, or a weird mole. He mounts her from behind, sweating profusely. Their bodies jiggle for ten or fifteen minutes. There's no eye contact, but you can tell they're in love. The TV's on. The guy looks up at it sporadically. Maybe makes a face at the cell phone he's filming his ******* on. The picture quality is low, and the audio is pretty tinny, but you can usually make it out all right. I saw this one video of a guy and a girl getting it on and some other dude was there filming it. You could tell it was an amateur video because she was kind of weird-looking. But, like, did he ask his buddy to come back to the motel with this chick he picked up and film them *******?

No, I can't get behind all that glossy, glamourous, professional ****. There's too much Botox and plastic surgery. They look too good. And it's all fake, too. These people have *** for a living. Watching them go at it, it just feels empty. They're not really into it. And I don't know if seeing guys with twelve-packs and ten inch ***** invokes a certain inferiority complex in me or what it is, but I know I just don't care for it.

Okay. Back to the writing. Now, what do I like to write? I like action movies, so... how about... a serial killer. No, a contract killer. So it's a serial, contract killer who... but there has to be some sort of conflict. Okay, a serial contract killer who falls in love with... but there needs to be something that makes it unique. Something unique that sets it apart. So how about he... or she?... she falls in love with...

I wonder if I have any new messages on Plenty of Fish. Maybe that cute brown-haired Asian-looking girl responded to me. What does "D2F" mean?

No, she hasn't. Well, when did I send the message? Yesterday night? Let's see when she was last online...

Today, at 4:13 PM.

Ah.

Well, maybe she just didn't notice it.

Yeah. That's it.

Maybe the target falls in love with the killer. Maybe they meet early on and they hit it off or something at some swanky soirée. And then... she's hired to **** him. Or her. Yeah, that could be interesting: a lesbian contract killer. Never seen that before. But she's got to be hot. Yeah. Not like the monster Cameron Diaz played in that movie... Monster. But who hires her? Her husband? Yeah, that might work. But would he **** her for being a *****? Or maybe... she stole something from him. Some money. Or she found out he's a criminal, and she's gonna squeal.

Lesbian **** is interesting. Especially when they use the strap-on thing. But I don't know why they **** on it first. I mean, it's just plastic. Maybe they know it's mostly going to be guys watching it. Who knows.

But seriously, why would that cute Asian girl not respond to my message? Her profile did say "msg me :)", after all. Her profile said her favourite book is Fight Club. I think she meant the movie. I wrote "haha ya brad pitt is the shiiit". I don't know. I never know what to write in those messages. I always feel obligated to say something about their profile so they know I didn't just look at their pictures.

I'm good-looking, aren't I? I've had girlfriends. I've had *** a bunch of times. I haven't had *** in a while, but... okay, so I don't have a six-pack, but I go to the gym. I just get so anxious with all those muscly dudes walking around. Maybe I should get a private trainer.

I need more diet cola. No, wait — no more soda. Maybe all that aspartame is messing with my head. Anyway. Back to the contract killer. How many pages do I have? Six. Well, the average movie is about a hundred minutes, and if one page equals one minute in screen time, I'm only... oh look, I got a new email.

Stef341 has responded to your message.

"not my type, sorry"

Huh.

Well, whatever. Fight Club is a stupid movie anyway. How are Brad Pitt and that other guy supposed to be the same guy? That doesn't make any sense.

Back to the script. I need a title. Every good movie has a good title. How about The Lesbian Killer? No, that's too risqué. Nothing with lesbians in the title. This is a serious movie. With a lot of passion. Maybe a *** scene or two. Whatever, I'll just call it The Contract Killer. Starring Cameron Diaz.

Dad’s passing spans 18 months beginning with lung cancer surgeon removes left lung  for 6 weeks he receives radiation treatments Dad gains strength everyone gives thumbs up within several months doctors discover cancer spread to tumor in brain head shaved tumor removed skull resembles stitched baseball Dad lapses into twilight state body shrinks everyone knows his life is ending doctors and family wait for cancer to attack vital ***** only matter of time in january 1991 iraqi scud missiles launch at israel Odysseus in lobby of movie theater when he hears news calls Mom from telephone booth she asks if he is ok nothing could prepare him for horror he feels witnessing Dad slowly die Mom Penelope Odysseus quite vulnerable during this time dependent on trained intensive-care nurse to watch over Dad at home administer drugs monitor condition nurse able-bodied to guide or carry Dad to bathroom assist in his goings cleaning him Mom hires several nurses who each borrow money from her and Penelope Sean each nurse never repays loan and steals jewelry from Mom other belongings from house once a week Odysseus takes Dad out to lunch accompanied by nurse Odysseus places cap with bulls insignia on Dad’s bald stitched-up head Dad nods gives high-five Odysseus talks about feats michael jordan and entire team perform Dad avid fan Odysseus drives Dad nurse in toyota to favorite lunch spots Dad has no appetite no words but manages frail smile in august 1991 Odysseus has first one-man show at prestigious gallery run by Keith ******* Keith published Odysseus in college literary magazine decade earlier 17 large color field scapes hang on two long walls Dad too ill to attend opening never sees show in film documentary shot at gallery by Sean Odysseus explains “the work is about opening up possibilities clean slates for new worlds rawest moment of narrative very beginning of story all we are presented with is stage i’m scared of story right now suspicious of story don’t even want to deal with story once story starts then everything gets messed up all these things happen at this point in story it’s just this exciting stage full of possibilities full of potential the very beginning and you don’t know what is presented yet” near end of Dad’s struggle in late summer Odysseus asks Mom and Penelope to allow him to visit father alone in hospital they reluctantly consent Dad lying semiconscious in bed Odysseus holds back tears looks at withered father Dad breathes inconsistent occasional fluttering eyelids Odysseus begins to talk aloud about their lives together wonders if Dad reached his goals? does he feel fulfilled with life? is he prepared for death? Dad is 71 years old does he feel cheated of time? did Odysseus disgrace Dad or make him proud? Odysseus feels guilt suspects he may have embarrassed even shamed Dad wonders if Dad deep in his heart believes Odysseus is sad disappointment? he forces words out of his mouth “Dad can you hear me? Dad i love you Dad forgive me please for not becoming what you wanted me to be Dad” phone rings suddenly who could be calling at solemn moment? Odysseus lets it ring but ringing will not stop unwillingly he answers “hello?” “Odysseus don’t do it! Don’t hurt Dad!” it is Penelope calling worried he might commit some murderous act Odysseus and Penelope snap at each other for moment he hangs up thinks what a tragic breach of trust realizes no one not Penelope Mom Chris anyone in family honestly trusts him he wonders if Dad overheard angered remarks with Penelope what a sad way to die hearing your own children quarreling Dad dies august 31 1991 same date cousin Chris’s son Maynard celebrates 3rd birthday Mom’s brother Karl comes from california to help family discovers Dad took out undisclosed $15,000. loan to offset lack of earnings Dad typically overextended himself Karl pitches in to compensate for borrowed money after Dad dies Schwartzpilgrim house falls apart Mom weeps for many months they were married more than 50 years Odysseus feels sorry for Mom all alone in big house she invites family for dinner but it is never same Odysseus’s inheritance is old toyota with 80 thousand miles Dad said he wanted to buy Odysseus new volvo Odysseus is grateful for car which allows him to drive Farina to lake in dream Dad is sitting in back seat bandages wrap around his head same way doctors dressed him after brain tumor surgery Odysseus driving toyota looking for parking space there are none to be found they drive around block several times Dad suggests “try driving around the block one more time maybe parking space will open up” Odysseus answers “no i think we need to go few blocks further” Dad says “Odysseus you’re in drivers’ seat now but try my way one last time” they drive around block find parking space right in front of house Odysseus wakes up confused asks aloud “Dad is dead right?” it is not easy losing a father forgiving forgetting

If anyone hires you for good ,                                                                                 It means you are still in a good position ,but                                                         If anyone hires you for bad ,                                                                                   It means you will get yourself in trouble ...                                                           Help wanted is either                                                                                               For good or for bad ...                                                                                              If anyone needs you ,then                                                                                        He will automatically hire you for good ,but                                                         If someone does not need you ,then                                                                         He will not hire you ...        Life teaches us many lessons and                                                                       One of them is displayed as                                                                                Never kneel down to any job                                                                              Simply because if they need you ,then                                                              They will inevitably hire you ...

SUNDAY, JUNE 7...

I fell between the cushions of his super-comfy sofa
with pretzel salt snuggled between my pages.
Another sign of disrespect for inanimate objects
includes cat ***** stains that now soil my beautiful
maroon leather cover embossed in silver with his
initials. This guy is very mercurial, very spontaneous.
He just started a brand new job last week and he's
decided to leave it because it's "just not" for him.
He's planning to move away to another city, reinvent
himself - and revise his resume -  so he can next
fit into a blue chip job he's never held at some Fortune
500 company he's never worked in...and probably
never will. He's also planning to magically "become"
a Wharton grad which he knows will require a very
attractive resume sure to score points with head
honchos, much more impressive than the associates
degree he actually acquired from some obscure
community college in Jersey. He also plans to "create"
a wife and two kids. Employers, he believes, like
a family man, not a bachelor with a roving eye. Family
men get raises, promotions, they move up, they fit in.
This guy knows no boundaries and he's got it all
figured out. His fictional alter ego will escape detection
because he's pretty certain most companies never
really check the backgrounds of potential employees,
but he qualifies all this by confiding that such a generalization
may not be 100% true.
________________

MONDAY­, JUNE 8...

He has yet again changed his mind. He's not going to
leave the job after all. Some big shot at the company
complimented him on how quickly he's learning the
ropes. Looks like that career renovation is no longer
on the table. And one of the new hires - a redhead
named Lisa - who started the same day he did asked
him to join her for lunch. He digs the forward type so
he says "yes" and it turns out they clicked.
________________

TUE­SDAY, JUNE 9...

****** Day for me! He's now decided to forego any
more diary entries although he refers to me as his
"journal" - obviously a more butch designation than
the antique genteel "diary" of years past. He's decided to
stay on the job, stay focused, blah, blah, blah. Being a diary
is no walk in the park. I've given him all these pages
to confide in...I've given him an outlet for his deepest
thoughts, his wildest dreams, his secret desires, and now
he's ditching me like a cheap suit. (Pardon the cliche.)
Excuse me as I prepare for the old heave-**.
Ingratitude is always a *****!

The President says there is
no better party
than the party his happens to be.
I am dazed and confused
with parochial views
of those " know better" folks in D.C.

He gave us "healthcare"
"It's no tax, this I swear"
But the Court said a tax it must be.
It hires an army of I.R.S. men
to perform fiscal prostectomies.

In my city and state
one can't  go off half cocked
They frown on us having a gun.
The outlaws don't care
They're all well armed, I swear.
The rest of us call 9-1-1.

The President says there is
no better party
than the party his happens to be.
I am dazed and confused
with parochial views
of those " know better" folks in D.C..

They take from the workers
to feed those who don't
and call it a democracy
Combined with inflation
and forced confiscation
the buck ain't what it used to be.

The President says there is
no better party
than the party his happens to be.
He'll spend half a billion
in ads on T.V.
to say he knows better than me.

Aww, how sweet,
You always knew
What to do
To make me feel like
Garbage stew,
To make me eat
The poison glue you spew,
To make me drag
My ragged feet
Wherever your
Poisoned heart
Leads you to.
With mine on my sleeve
I keep in tow
And leak from head to toe,
From every swollen pore
The saline flows and
Drips down in
Rivulets to sow
Sterile seeds
And offset
The burning scent
Of cigarettes
In the hair that keeps
Whipping my face
With the pace
Of expanding internet.
Oh well,
I'm all set
With the *******,
I'm fine with your
Sense of entitlement,
I'll get by
Without your
"Enlightenment,"
Call it what you want,
It's still just
Getting bent
Getting ******
Getting exactly what you love,
And I bet you'll recount
To me how it went,
With no regard for
What it meant to me,
But my energy is spent
So get to gettin',
Take every cent
From my memory bank,
I'll burn every brain cell
That might have lent
You the time of day
With forty two
Glasses
Of chardonnay
And a few pressed pills
I bought from Kid A,
Don't worry, just chill,
That's not the way
Out things ever play,
More likely I'd wake
up to see your face
Open its mouth
And ******* say
Some ****** up ****
To ruin my day,
But hey,
That's the cycle
I perpetuate,
Cuz Michael
Loves a sparring mate
I guess, not sure, doesn't
Really make much sense,
Especially since
A running mate
Is closer to the figure 8
On it's side that I desire,
Instead I get a cut rate
Liar who equates
Love with
****** desire,
He might make you scream,
But I'll set you on fire.
Either way it seems
You just like to perspire,
Just don't forget that I
Can make you expire
With a call down
The telephone wire
To my Styrofoam supplier,
Nah jk, just being a clown,
Just trying to acquire
Enough sounds and frowns
That I can use for
Funeral pyres
For me and all these new hires,
Unknown girls I can use
To forget her,
The higher the better.

Pop bottles. Boxes of them.
The old man brought them home.
He collected them on the construction site, between lifts.
Sometimes it would be days between lifts,
So he filled time collecting bottles.
Hires, Fanta, Tab, Fresca, 7 Up, Mountain Dew,
Canada Dry...
Emptied by men, like him, from all over.
What conversations did he have with them
When he picked up the empties.
Did he indulge? He'd have liked Vernors.
Pop bottles were as good as gold.
Large bottles, a nickel: Small, two cents.
He kept us busy, weeding, straightening nails, digging, mixing cement, building fences, painting them, and the house;
Root cellars, garages, additions;
In fair, wet, or hot conditions.
Winter had it's own cuffs.

We'd cash in the bottles at Walker Bros.
Every Sunday he'd leave for weeks,
Up North, to places like Kapuskasing and Hearst.
He must've been thinking about us up there,
Collecting our bottles,
In fair, wet, or hot conditions.

"I saw what it does to people," you said
with a mixture of disdain and disgust like
you were talking about **** addicts before
and after pictures.
"I hate girlfriends," you said to me after you told me
we weren't going out on Valentines Day because your
ex set you up with someone else and you "have to" go
and who is afraid of Berkeley and all those new idee-ers
The vegan restaurants with rice milk whipped cream
The pleasant outdoor cafes with people learning, studying
the only "Ivy League" public University...
All those things there to open your mind and make you
think differently and you may begin to believe in Global Warming
and even though you don't, those thoughts may haunt you
but I know there are scientists working in labs all over the world trying
to figure out what to do about it ...
Socialism, you are afraid of that too
but what is it when Walmart hands out an application
for public healthcare to all their new hires
since they will never be able to afford their own
and Walmart can't share any money on their behalf
In the Netherlands, mink farms have been outlawed
yet you like to dissect them in your class and
carry around the poor dead skinless creature in
a clear plastic bag around the school
and many of those places prefer to pay the fees
and citations of skinning the animals alive rather than
pay to **** them before skinning
why doesn't that bother you?

The president loves to carry on
About his gut and how it guides him.
How can anybody believe
A word of all of his nonsense besides him?

His gut encourages him to lie
And do it while he keeps a straight face.
It helps him create far-fetched stories
To dupe and galvanize his base.

His gut is great at seeking out
The shiftiest autocrats around,
So he can make America
His autocratic proving ground.

It's also very good at distracting
The country from what is REALLY going on--
At how to attract his servile lackeys
While he plays the role of the don.

It helps him to be great at knowing
How to pander to various groups
Such as evangelicals
Who kiss his you-know-what. Oops!

His gut tells him that scientists
Are full of baloney when they proclaim
That global warming is a threat
And humankind is largely to blame.

His gut says illegal voting
Is rampant. Doesn't he find it odd
That experts have found no proof at all
Of widespread voter fraud?

His gut says he hires the best people.
That makes him SO excited.
But how many have left their jobs?
How many have been indicted?

His gut said that he could pay money
To silence affairs and get away with it.
Did his gut let him know
Whether his wife would be okay with it?

His gut tells him that as the leader
He can do what he desires,
Which must include collusion, obstruction
Of justice, and calling dissenters liars.

Yes, I agree: gut feeling
Can be useful at times, BUT
Why can't the president
Start using reason and NOT his gut?

-by Bob B (11-30-18)

She rides a badass Harley and she doesn't give a **** about what the neighbors are saying, because she lives her life not worrying about judgements of the image they say she's portraying
But then on the other hand…
She loves bubble baths and babies, flora and fauna,  manicures, pedicures and dancing, she likes holding hands and soft gentle kisses and she thinks poetry is totally romancing
But then on the other, other hand…
I've seen her fire a 44 Magnum and i can tell you, her targets are rarely missed
And the way she shifts a standard transmission she says it's done with flick of the wrist
But then on the other, other, other hand...
She speaks very softly with a pretty little voice, and her whisper is enchanting and crisp, her favorite thing is to snuggle real close, and the ways of the philanthropist
But then on the other, other, other, other hand...
She knows how to plow a field for growing, and shes shoveled her share of ****, shes not afraid to dress a deep wound, or drink wiskey, or swear, or spit
She manages an office full of egos and divas, she hires and fires at will, and if your stupid you'll threaten her loved ones, shell definitely maime or ****,
But…………..

bottomless.

I never end.

I never began.

I give
           a n d
                      I will keep on giving.

...

repetitive.

dry.

eternally cloudy skies.
with a chance of rain.

no more sunny days.

simply,

superficial.
reeking of worldly successes.

failing to fail at anything at all.

endless.

listen:

"young. promising. driven."

the truth:

empty. silent. a puppet. puppeteer?

...

drained.

But,

no one can stop me.
no one can save me.
no one can stop me.
no one can save me.

save me.

no one can save me.
no one can save.
no one can.
no one.

bottomless.

I give
           a n d
                     I will keep on giving.

after.

after?

wars.
disappointments.

even after this broken heart.

...

no one hires for the heart.
salary isn't determined by sincerity.

no one can stop me.
no one can save me.
no one can stop me.
no one can save me.

no one.

not.
even.
myself.

on her fiftieth birthday our alleged mother hires a driver to remain parked outside an abandoned warehouse.  she promises to pay the driver extra if he sees more than two stray beasts and promises further employment if he consciously brings the uglier of the two or more home to his children.  we hear offhandedly these things and others

     as if we are hidden inside a very large cake.  

     the driver is an hour deep into the assignment when he notices a barefoot woman flat on her belly scooting across a puddle of oil near the warehouse entrance.  the woman is swallowed by the puddle before the driver can call to her or commit her outfit to memory.  he says aloud she was feral and her ******* had to be, by then, bleeding.  it’s christmas morning when the driver comes to and his wife’s sister has this look like she could **** the red from a childhood firehouse.  his kids are crying over invisible toys.  invisible because our mother touches the future without looking.

The dark shadow to lift a car spirit
How he sparked his plugs came like
fireworks the car business became
a showroom *** drive salesman
Whatever turns your red hot light to
green monster engine
muffler twilight night
Her beauty mark hit
your parking spot
Your headlight was my eyes
bedroom delight
What's between
two lovers and a car
Car body built you
touched my red velvet
Buns of the seat
Don't ******* down
with your storm tires
Those exhilarating drives
  raise my fire
Anything he drives
gets you crazy
the hot nutritious lady
he hires

Drive one mad
*** drive patriot Brady
The heavy metal lady
That extra special heat what
picks me up not a coffee
  racing cup and please
no horse
with hot wheels  stirrups
her mind is
always stirred
up for something
so exhilarating I know
how to find
something
better than anyone
Taking a course in acting
out parts new and used
What a car guitar fender

No fix-up mechanic job or
mating or
car copying
hot rod racing
The Lexus car makeover so many
imitations but no VIP
Those hot tamales the new cars
We really don't want to settle for
the used cars no lemons
White Mercedes, those ladies
he drives  you insane even when
you're on the Jet hot plane what an
exhilarating
hot flame dating no insurance
How it races my expectation he road
so quick I missed my star more
interference

The heart expensive oil he boils up
when he fills  his gas synthetic oil
Overflowed by a gas leak

Every week something new
We love all the addiction it
drives you to another
dimension more car space to
her fascination
So delicious when you arrive
at your destination

Man’s best friend cars
electrifying

Greased full of aggression
no denying

Staying firm hot wheels
rebellious rim

Meeting one another chances
always the car trim

Cars possession passion
gives us the drive

We crave rivalry and rave

“Drive Me” or drive through

Exhilarating speed and **** sigh

Drive in roller staking pups and
doggy drives mating


Corvettes  enticing
Sextets all we do is text
Buy cars Hollywood pricing

What’s next? Hot Ferrari she is
so busy creaming and
car dreaming
with her piece of Canolli  

*** craving energetic so ****** car shapes

Mustang Sally so sultry
He’s the fury mustang
Shameless sinners drive away
spectators

Drive away see you later
“Salesmen”

Spiritual connection French car

Another car and writers event

Cool car actors drive to any extent

Tires and minds get tireless

Everything becomes wireless

Your body like a vehicle
driver's seat

*** drive destination
you give into his car
mind mileage
beat

What a ride you win…

perfect teeth
shine-out

every advertisement
hires a jaw

or two
matched

gleaming through
the inevitable decay

a smiling skull
is all we have

Did you know that gold is dug and washed out of muck?
You miss a lot attaching so many strings
for the so many terms attached and conditions
just limit the talent you are likely to capture
As an intending or a yet to be business consultant
I honestly believe the inefficiency we see is resultant
and consequent to the boxes we create
thereby numbing the personnel our recruiting and selection curates
Don't get me wrong on this but even if I had a first class
I would not find joy being an employee to such an employer
seldom do our results show our capability
especially in the developing nations where our results
are usually subject to lots of questions
What I mean is I would grudgingly take up such jobs
where aspects like a master's degree is an added advantage
for to me I believe in the semi skilled, degrees and diplomas being vintage
this being the main reason I might take up a job to manage the HR
to prove to the world that today's academia doesn't define who we are
I'm not saying that if a company hires me I'll hire failures
No, all I'm saying is sometimes extremes are dangerous
like Wilde put it, too much is as bad as too little
Let's put away these archaic and very conservative measures
and emphasise aspects like talent and character strength
Not every good medical student obviously becomes a good surgeon
not even do good literature scholars turn into good authors or poets
We have to start realising that some go to places to survive
we seldom choose the places we end up in but endure to be alive
We need to be better employers to find better employees
in my company, the papers will not be as vital
as the man in the suit, let's not take life as a bible
especially in the business world where things often go strange
those greater than us adopted the basics for that was their change
we shouldn't keep walking in their footprints
We can find jungles and propagate our own path
leave our prints and set pace for the fresh dynamo to power generations
A million employers are going to miss me because of such rigidity
I've been a mediocre business student and I admit
I could not hit the pinnacle of preset peak for I had my limits
but I'm going to be one of the greatest transformers of my time
You can take this for pride or just another rhyme
someday these so called egocentric first class employers
will hire me to enlighten their classic fraternity
on the different ways we the open minded weave
our learned with the inborn to function as an entity
so to my would be employers... do not fall for the anchor heavy vitaes
neither should you be fooled by the experienced suits and ties
I'll come to knock clad in my miserable second hand shirt
with dusty shoes, with my collar sweat marred with dirt
but beware there's always more to every story than told by the cover
don't be hood winked to go picking like you'd choose a lover
to leave out the seemingly ugly asset for **** liabilities
cause those predefined sample spaces omit so much abilities
destroy the box,set no boundaries to let every sailor try out their luck
business is a Sea with so much in the uncharted to see
we risk fazing out boundaries but the essence of business is ecstasy
we ain't experienced but carry a flame denied to some used embers
whose blaze can fuel success in the egoistic business chambers
We can't stick to ancien methodologies to castrate the bull
for we can set up our own modern and operational dominion
no hard feelings, I'm just an enthusiast airing his opinion
Peace, straight outta the Makerere business school.

You get hired
and fired,
work for nothing
you're tired and
the rent's due on Friday.

You aspire to greatness and
get less and get less until
the mess that you're in becomes
a part of you, in spite of you
trying to get by and why are you dying? and
they fire you again and someone
hires you again and it's tiring again and
the rent's due on Friday.

The day that you die day is Friday and
will be until you see that it's pointless to get
less and stay in the mess that you're in.

So spin the bottle and make the call
open the throttle smash into a wall.

It's about choices I guess,
a mess is less of a mess when you're
trying to clean up
your act.

Isn't cleanliness next to godliness?
on the chess board where the King meets the Queen
the pawns haven't seen the end of it.

So hire me and fire me and wire me the news
don't confuse me with words which I don't often
use,
The rent's due on Friday
if I work I might pay it
or I might stay in bed and
pretend that I'm ill.

His name brings to mind
A besuited baboon
And a **** poor excuse
For a business tycoon

Famous for firing
Much more than he hires
High-heels and boxes
He often requires

Cack handed on twitter
As in real life
If he could, he’d have taken
Himself for a wife

And it seems you can slander
Whomever you choose
When your name is an anagram
Of “**** Ragus”

And if I were the tabloids
I’d land a low blow
He’s Polish and Russian
By descent, don’t you know?

But that would be nasty
So I’ll leave it at that
It’s not clever to smear
You arrogant ****

CS

If humankind was just one man
His house would be the world
He'd live on only takeaways
The curtains never furled
His clothing would be shabby
Just a mess of cloth and strings
But on his little finger
Are a dozen diamond rings
The body might be starving
But the pinky hoards its gold
The hunger could be ended
With a single diamond sold
The kitchen could be mended
The gloom made slightly brighter
That's not the pinky's problem
So it holds on even tighter
It hires the other fingers
And one adjacent thumb
To stab the legs repeatedly
And beat the kidneys numb
The body starts to waste away
And much to its surprise
Along with every other thing
The little finger dies

As the world falls asleep,
darkness blankets everyone.

The children warm in their beds,
the lovers happily snuggled against each other,
the new parents hoping to get just one night of peace and quiet,
the old woman who is sleeping alone for the first time in 80 years,
the single father who guiltily hires a nanny to watch his son during the day,
the lost man slumped against a building on a cold winter's night,
they are all covered by the same blanket of dark.

Then why have they yet to notice each other?

Spoken mouth
Breath of air taken sword
Peaceful leisure
In finding tongue

Counting backwards
Time elapsing
Frustrating lies but
Why catching hires
Flying spies

Holding onto
What was
Once nice
Fire, flies
Sparks
Ignite

From
Mere- Goodbyes

It's Christmastime in Trumplandia.
The halls are decked with boughs of folly,
Ol' Frosty the Snowman is melting,
And sleigh bells are sounding melancholy.

The president has an abundance of hassles:
Ongoing investigations,
Failed attempts at accomplishments,
Embarrassments, and accusations.

He believes his supporting staff
Will help him work out all the kinks
And claims he's the favorite president!
Something is rotten in DC, methinks.

Wondering why he can't wield
More power, he disdains
Anyone who makes an attempt
To open his eyes or pull on his reins.

He'll pick a fight with anyone
Who doesn't give him flattery or praise.
Many devoted staff and supporters
Apparently share the leader's malaise.

Not trusting true experts,
He looks elsewhere for his muse:
At Alex Jones, Hannity,
Or the vicious harpy who haunts Fox News.

He says he hires the best people--
Not!--and knows what's best for the nation.
He's backing a candidate for the Senate
Who's been accused of child molestation.

His organization is raking in dough,
While Trump insists he's breaking no laws.
Why not follow the foreign money?
And what about the emoluments clause?

His favorite world leaders are
Autocrats who aren't so pleasant.
Their mutual ****-kissing will have to
Be their mutual Christmas present.

Santa Trump and his elves in Congress
Are working together in order to dole
Tax breaks out to the wealthiest, while
The rest of us will end up with coal.

Chestnuts won't be roasting on
An open fire this year. No way!
Our winter wonderland's become
A messy winter holiday.

-by Bob B (11-28-17)

an arrogant conductor hires me for a show
it’s a cultural exchange, as we’re from different tribes
he gives me guitar music, a D chord with 4 staves
i ask him how he wants it played
"as it’s written!"
but the 4 bare slashes tell me nothing
it’s like working in a restaurant
and getting an order for chicken
"how you want this chicken?"
"follow the recipe!"
and the recipe is a picture of a chicken
so i cook it the way i like it
basted with latin flavor
oh, he’s ****** after the show
but the audience eats it up

In modern days
People look for ways
To make easy plays
So they start to sway
To the thoughtless haze

An American election
Made a crazy selection
A reality show contestant
With a raging *******
When he goes to Saudi Arabia
To grab women by the *****

Capitalizing on stupidity
And a lack of lucidity
Mixing with rigidity
Stealing a nation’s divinity
Making them see frigidly
Not how they saw originally
He claims to be a savior
Of a different flavor
Of businessman labor
But he’s just another slaver
Money trader
Power craver

The imbecile scarecrow
That’s our missile pharaoh
Thinks he’s a pistolero
Because of the phalanx
Of failed banks
And trailing tanks
Covering his flanks

Cutting taxes for the rich
Putting us in a deficit ditch
Not allowing refugees to switch
Making a nuclear proliferation pitch
The military industrial complex
Gives his presidency context
And banks
Give thanks

I’m anxious
The bank just
Outranked us
He proclaims plus
While people go bust
For rich man’s lust
Then hot button issues
Are politically misused
To maintain lit feuds
Avoiding snakebit clues
He’s leading us to lose

I hope he can spare me
His selective austerity
When he’s ferally caroling
For defense share holding
Contractors who’re molding
Policy that will be folding
The same people scolding
Any disagreement noting
To deny clarity coding

He has a negative mentality
Of manipulative speciality
That tricks his dense
Constituents
Who say when it comes to business
That he’s shown mental fitness
But when it comes to diplomacy
Even the dullest see
He’s unfit to lead
So foreign agents take advantage
Of his naive damage

He praises the dictator of North Korea
But treats Canada and China like gonorrhea
Starting a trade war
That made more
Bankrupt stores
While human rights
Elude his sight
He doesn’t mourn or miss
The murdered journalist
He envies Saudi fists
That can quiet lips
For listening he skips
So the world is split
From words he spits
Causing tantric fits
That can’t be fixed
By medical kits

His juvenile military obsession
Leads to heightened global aggression
Like he’s teaching a noble lesson
Yet his own sins don’t see confession
He doesn’t ride a steed
Of humble needs
But unfolds greed
While victims bleed
So his petulant breed
Can excessively feed
But they’re not brothers
They hate each other
Everyone he hires
He eventually fires
Almost the entire
Cabinet expired

He’s an oblong
Sad song
Bad dog
Mad hog
And a ding ****
The size of King Kong
Because he’s so singsong
While he brings bombs

He’s the glorious leader
Of progress impeders
And country defeaters
Who are delighting
At everyone fighting
God will be smiting
Those that are biting
To keep us from uniting

New Heights
New hires
No Shows
Yes sires
King Earth
Wealth perth
Owner
Commander an Z
Go Sleep
No Zee
Camps Awake
Clapped Cheeks
Grown Cheech

Alley Cat
Roam the Village
Gun safe racked
Us armed
Bullet proof windows
Kevlar vest
Team on my back
Crest on my chest
Central best
Central west
Paint go bang
Whole city gang
385 million arms

For thy Nation
The Greatest
Who Paved it
We crave it
We beg it
We fight it
We grave it
We write it
We wrote it
Dont Quote it
Quote hit
Numbers climbing
Bodies piling
Bible lying
God ******
So tragic
Face traffic

Cult classic

It's all about our own selfishness,
It's all about our own burning desires.

Nothing is in this world to faith over recklessness,
Nothing is in this world  to spark over furious fires.

Sparing the moment for sake of happiness,
Sparing the years for ignorance of peace that hires.

call it, cell division restrictions
with heavy implications
on age limit correlations
　
old and decrepit
one day your fingers will become brittle sticks
wrapped inconsistently in thin wrinkly papers

approaching uselessness

every page gets turned slower
understood less and less often
as everything begins to be forgotten

watch out now
here comes genomic instability
aka the road to an old death
or a cancerous death
or a radiation death
maybe a chemical death
or from sharp metal or heavy stone
perhaps from the claws
or teeth
of another clever beast
(an inaudible noise)
whatever's clever, it's all ******* death
when it starts...

it progresses (pray for quickness)

please dear
have a little neurodegeneration
with that
it won't matter, you'll forget
and **** your pants
eventually
　
maybe she's born with it
maybe it's recombinational DNA repair error
either way we're all on our own way into cyclic deficiencies of repair
that night shift mr. fix it staff
the stupid intern who makes the copies
gets the coffee
eventually, the manager hires his nephew
and outsources the night shift to mental patients
things then start to unravel
as all things fall apart
　
sometimes it's exogeny
other times from within
endogenous like  
anyway,  it's all "whatever"
("it's not a tuma!")
these things that are eventual, tend to be tragic
universally so
the upper limit to individual "forever's"
this could be law
when that which you cannot see stops doing what you cannot believe
you tend to die
and everything has it's time to die
everyone of us becomes due in time
to become one spectacle of a tragedy
or another
like you've never seen before
like you would never believe

until it happens to you...
when you go,
when you hear,
ha... that,
(inaudible sound)