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Joshua Haines May 2017
CHANNEL 3 AT 7:


We are at the scene, now;
an awesome showing of
                    brute force.
What some are calling the
greatest moment in U.S.
                          history
and, some, "An example
of jingoistic propaganda
masquerading as self-
-liberation."

Whatever it is, Tom,
one thing is certain:
we will be here,
covering every second
of this gigantic American
                          moment.

"And we thank you for your fine
reporting, Lisa. Boy, I tell you,
the President is making a huge
mistake with this act."

You have got that right, Tom.
We, as Americans, cannot
allow this to happen. We have
to ask these people if they want
this to happen -- and, then, we
need to enforce, what we consider
progressive and better for their
well-being, to them. These people
are like lost puppies, Tom.
It is our responsibility to make sure
that they do not respect their religion,
their culture, or prehistoric way of life
they have become accustomed to.
If we ignore the issue, of their
third-world existence and third-world
values, then we will have lost as
human beings; and the United States
cannot lose whenever it comes to this.

"Lisa, bathe me in your words,
because nothing has ever felt so
clean and right. You're absolutely,
100% correct: we need to guide
these poor, helpless people and
show them what is right, when
it comes to culture, identity,
among other things."

Agreed, Tom. And thank you.
To make things simple for
the viewer at home, you wouldn't
buy a puppy and expect it to
**** anywhere it wanted?
You have to show it where to ****.
Heck, you have to show it what to
eat, so the **** can be a good ****.
To sum things up, these people have
been pooping incorrectly, for a long time,
and it is our responsibility to show them
the **** inside of us, and how we aren't
going to mix with them, but, instead,
show them how they can get a nice,
firm ******* that we all but
take for granted.

"Couldn't agree more, Lisa.
It is our duty, as Americans,
to help these people who have
been de-humanized, and show
them how to handle this and
the world, especially during
a time like this for them.
And let us not forget,
this is their moment."



MAD MIKE IN THE MORNING:

Hello folks, and welcome
to the Heat Zone; a place
where snowflakes melt
and where liberals sweat.
I, of course, am your man,
Mad Mike O'Leary and
boy, do we have some
serious stuff to talk about.

Our fabulous leader,
whom we shall respect,
has made our nation great,
as 195 countries --
excluding our's, of course --
citizens now have American flags
drilled into their skulls.
As an act of kindness,  
Our fabulous leader,
has given each of these citizens
the choice of keeping or removing
the flags. Of course, if one were
to try to remove the flag,
a tiny explosive would detonate,
as one can never be too sure
if a citizen would use the flag
as a weapon -- and, of course,
there is no promise that the flag
wouldn't touch the ground,
so Our fabulous leader explained
that flag burning would be an
acceptable method of removing the
flag from this plane of existence.

Here, today, we have political pundit --
or political genius; you decide --
Ryan Tomlinson to discuss this radical
new way of life, we unfortunately have
to endure. Ryan, what are your thoughts
on the controversial method of discarding
the flag: a symbol of our strength, love,
                                          and freedom?

"Well, I'll tell you Mike: you think you're
the mad one, you should ask my wife
about my reaction when I learned about
this atrocious tiny explosive destroying --
yes, destroying -- our great and mighty flag!"

Haha, is that right, Ryan? I bet Nancy got
the Rowdy Ryan I've met on Nickle Shot Night.
What were her thoughts on your reaction --
better, yet, what was your reaction, Ryan?

"Well, I can't tell you exactly how she
reacted to my reaction, because I wasn't
really listening. But, I tell you, ever since
He Who Shall Not Be Named left the office,
Our fabulous leader has had to adopt some of
his wild and, frankly, immoral methods --
which would include the burning of our flag."

You got that right, Ryan. It reminds me of
when my oldest left for college, leaving behind
some beers that little Matthew ended up drinking.
My point is,  He Who Shall Not Be Named
has left some stains that still need to be cleaned up,
but I am confident that Our fabulous leader will
scrub those right up; if Matthew can do it, so can he.
To move on, here's an issue I have
that no one is really talking about, Ryan:
Not only are you detonating this flag -- a
flag that millions of men, God Bless Them,
have fought and died for -- but you're also
covering this symbol of freedom in the
blood and gore and scalp and guts of
these dangerous people who would love
nothing more than to see our symbol destroyed.

"You hit the nail right on the head, Mike!
These people don't understand what it is
like to be an American; to deal with their
oppression and policing of our values.
They already have succeeded in dividing us
when it comes to this whole flag removal
method. You can't reason with these, people.
You can try to offer them a Benjamin;
you can try to give them tickets to Transformers,
but these people will never respect us or our
way of life. And these liberals are right behind them!
I'm not sure what the liberals plans are, right now,
but you can be sure they'll use this whole flag thing
to exploit something. Hell, they're already talking
about how we should teach these people to **** --
what if they get to them, first, and teach them to
**** on the GD flag?! The liberals are helping divide us!
That's what they do!"

You are so, so right, Ryan. This country is full of
the wrong ****; and is going down the toilet.
Well, unfortunately,
we have to go to commercial, but you can bet
your keister that we'll continue this important
discussion that involves your liberty,
your job, and your soldiers.
Mad Mike in the Morning, with special guest,
Ryan Tomlinson -- be right back.
Don't go away.
**, **, **
Hoes be everywhere yo
I soar above a city so naughty
Inside of my flying Bugatti

I land atop the cityscape
In fear of my **** getting *****
I slip my keister down the chimney
With a present prepared for lil' Timmy

As I reach the bottom my muscles freeze
And I realize there is no milk and cookiez
Bullets fly and my suit stains red
The cartel had found me and now I'm dead
I wrote this on the toilet.
Dennis Willis Dec 2018
Somewhere between the mountains and the rivers of today I fell out
Landed on my keister
As usual

Face up
Searching for Heavenly Creatures

That's just what happened

I want to get back to my surprise at having
mountains and rivers
in my day.

This is a new landscape
In my mind

Evoking peace

Thank you now I will have them tomorrow too



Copyright@2018 Dennis Willis
Martin Mikelberg Feb 2018
cake, keister territory
I weigh myself every morning, except after eating cake the night before.
Anderson Ritchie Apr 2012
Get up off your lazy keister,
face the facts,
Life was never intended to be simple,
in fact at times it seems inevitably overwhelming.
You fell for the delusion,
You fell into the trap,
and now it shall be what stings you the most,
Get up off your lazy keisters,
do the work,
push through the hard times,
and change your world.
Rhychus Dec 2018
Started fasting Ash Wednesday,
Forty days before Easter,
When we got to Good Friday,
We were flat on our keister,
Reflecting back upon Jesus,
He suffered much more,
Be thankful he's lead us,
To heaven's front door,
Want some warm apple pie?
Want a scoop of Ice Cream?
Want a burger and fries?
Go ahead and scream!
Giving It Up for Lent!

We repent our weakness,
Turn our backs on all sin,
Exalting Christ Jesus,
The beginning and end,
No **** young women,
Going to turn our head,
We're going to heaven,
Sharing juice and bread,
No alcoholic cocktail,
No other legalized drug,
How long 'til Palm Sunday?
I'm going to need a hug!
Giving It Up for Lent!

We don't want to be shallow,
Want to turn to the Lord,
By his light we can follow,
Be of one holy accord,
Huge was the cross he bore,
Is that steak from New York?
Deep into his flesh they tore,
We'd **** for some pork,
Upon him they spat and swore,
Don't you dare pop that cork!
Is fasting that much of a chore?
Can we smell your fork?
Giving It Up for Lent!
David Lessard May 2017
He complained, as he drove,
a car behind him too **** near;
he gazed at the speedometer,
the car was on his rear.
It passed us... doing sixty,
the speed limit, forty-five;
some drivers just like fast,
on speed, they seem to thrive.
He complained, as he drove,
other drivers were insane;
and the ones that tailgated,
they were his special bane.
No cops around when needed,
to catch that wily speeder;
to give to them,  a ticket,
for riding on his keister.
He complained, as he drove,
and I heard the tires,  sing;
then he got behind a car,
and did the same **** thing!
Hey you little sister,
  I hope your day's fun
And all of moonshine glitter,
  Yet thrice brighter than the sun.

Hey you little sister,
  Now that you're a year older,
Be brave than a rising twister,
  Strong to break like a boulder.

Hey you little sister,
  When days ever get rough
And you can't even smile at a jester,
  I hope this poem makes you laugh.

Hey you little sister,
  Wishing thee more salubrious days,
Brimming with pulchritude like the aster
  Kissed by the noontide sun's rays.

Hey you little sister,
  Should you ever feel low and dismal,
Sit thee down upon thy keister
  And just give me a phone call.

Hey you little sister,
  My wish for thee is like the sunshine;
Warm, cheery, and full of glitter;
  And like a starry night, soothing & fine.

Hey you little sister,
  No matter how the years go by
We'll always be one like stars in a cluster,
  No matter how many birthdays fly.

Hey you little sister,
  May God follow you always,
May the path always be clear
  As you live to celebrate more birthdays.

       ©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros.
#birthday #sister #poem
ZACK GRAM Apr 28
Ran from the police
120 cruise control
Full load
Quarter ton
Quarter water
Why you run
I got away son
8k a year 100k bill
1 billion to a couple billion
Still whip the streets
Slowly creepin
Neighbor hood watch
Fully equip 1 billion bullets 10 minutes
Pack them shells
Load that copper
In the chopper
F35 hover b f22 rapter
Gone g
Tanks like jackie chan
**** around an find out
Ran a stop sign shook run over
Locked up
Straight to jail
Hit the prison system
****** a cell
Before bail
No new whips
Have my ***** keister
A blick
**** a reaper
Actin rico
Slaughter charge
George no form
Rocca ella katt to late
Hammertown
Big tenn nasa bamma
Lay a moon landing
Smoke gods dust an blind you
You my slave
Born an raised
Slave you want 10 million
Hit up big homie
Free world
But the day come
Aliens attack
Big Zack gonna blast
Have fun an body ******
To many piled up burn them at night
Like i said
30 mins 50 billion rounds
No wood alive
Brick wood felon happy
Blood
niann smith Apr 2021
He’d waited and waited

And waited some more—

He’d waited a day

And then three-sixty-four.

When it finally came ‘round,

Like a kick to the keister—

He put on his ears,

And bellowed, “IT’S EASTER!”

He ran out to hunt,

Not squirrels, but eggs—

And sniffed out a few,

Then lifted his leg.

He soiled his stash,

And though it was funny,

He knew he’d have beef

With one Easter Bunny
This averred title announced straight
away so lingering fans
(hoop fully letting me abbreviate)
a short cut so ye
can up and evacuate,
while metered time,

not yet foregone and not to late
hence best heed mine caution
which can protect minimum damage,
asper gray matter within pate
or blithely ignore
admonishment, aye accentuate

hmm...okay,...you apparently
decided to forsake adequate
prophecy, resigning despite
honest to dog admission to punctuate
a most unpleasant prediction,
I did woof lee aerate

worst case scenario,
leaving disabling genetic trait
to effect generations,
where legions of lesions adulterate
causing future offspring to mutate
and closely resemble

teenage mutant turtles, this potentate
(albeit self declared
only mein kampf, thee only life,
his existence he can arrogate
he doth officiate),
hence proceed at your own risk,

to avoid unpleasant fate,
visited upon unborn sons and daughters
uttering imprecations
unintelligible expletive laced spate,
that would approximate
(a cross between duck and pig)

incoherently gutturally excoriate
ting tee, thus don't tell me, I didn't
forewarn ya, whar
yar heart might palpitate,
thus causing da ole

ticker to fluctuate
dem eyes of yaws
could severely dilate,
while sweat gushes out every pore
streaming like liquid useless tube video,
a salty sea would then perspirate

out every last drop of fluid,
erupting magmatic plasma
to pool agglomerate
right under keister,
a lovely bag of bones
delivered to Norristown State

which inability to hydrate,
hence resultant mummification
heroic measures futile
thus humane decision would necessitate
and remaining days

on Earth numbered
starting with zero, not very great,
now this extinct reptile
hoop heed dead gratefully,
express message, and clearly articulate.
Pain in the *** devoid of dreck
inapropos poetic material what the heck
more unbearable than crick in neck
shiver me timbers, I feel like total wreck
the (see) Edmund Fitzgerald, si?.

Spasmodic cramping imposed
automatic rhyming abbreviation
comeuppance (analogous to daggers
stabbing derriere courtesy constipation
far worse fate than death – abdication

among living with grateful dead
dogsend versus moody blue (brown)
mood whereby feeling tetchy abjection
able, ready, and willing abjuration
to forswear, muster, surrender...

in toto habeas corpus abduration
upon terrestrial realm physical ablation
futile effort this atheist to utter ablution,
hence rollout Harris tweed welcome matte
more than willing to forsake livingsocial,

cuz Whatsapp pining abnegation
to cash fish'n chips, kick
the bucket, toss in hat,...
haint nobody gonna
challenge mine abolition

chained, tethered, yoked,...
accursed abomination
straining sphincter muscle
on par birthing abortion
primal raving, moaning, grunting,...

I imagine similar more futile abreaction
women experiencing parturition,
yours truly expressed agonizing vocalization
working himself into quintessential rabid sweat
screaming, threatening, uttering,... *****

regarding failure concerning
waste product expulsion
giving proctologist serious contemplation
pooh poohing derriere cheeky
bowel over abruption

personally legislating
getting behind abrogation
replacing said *** *****
with more reliable never absolution
regarding made in ******, U.S.A, tuckus,

cuz poisonous toxins sting like scorpions
severely crimping ability to sit down absorption
radiating throughout every
cell guaranteeing abstention
against hidebound contract, no

ifs, ands, nor but tucks
whereby mood linkedin
to nihilistic abstraction
particularly as quasi pincers jabbed
like sharp serrated knives acceleration

guaranteed, where *** rapped cheekily
prospective hemorrhoids increased accentuation
pro bono (cher red) ****** stools,
this tetchy, itchy, ******,...
bard declined invitation,
nee I rejected outright asinine acceptation

within bowel running toward toilet trees
squeezing keister exhausting effort in vain
scheduled medical appointment
gave curled lipped grudging acclamation
acquiescing nod toward grim reaper

worth casting die i.e. permanent resolution,
nary one more infinitesimal fraction
of second, could bare witness re: acclimation
or spelling alternate spelling acclimatization
experiencing, idolizing, lurching...,

sought after emetic interaction
with commode preoccupation
nearly twenty four hours
'tween latter part of September eighth
and ninth laxative delivered accommodation

at long last me no longer tortured
relieved, overjoyed, belated...
rear (rare) accreditation
proffered prior to accretion
lest I forcibly axed to join acculturation
of medical anomalies, you better blivet!
countless decades graduating
contemptible *** laude
hence same time frame every
August since...the stone
temple pilot age, this beastie
boy flashes back to yahoos
whose rawhide (mine) they
miraculously never whipped!

Uneasy panic stricken mindset
ensued mere weeks prior when
mum calls "time to wait for bus,"
despite miserable, horrible, and
execrable experience boarding
trademark yellow beast, when
driver opens maw generating
"whoosh" quickly scanning

parallel rows of cushioned seats
counting blessing after espying
pitch perfect place to plop posterior
farthest distance but tween one nerd
i.e. yours truly, garden variety long
haired pencil neck geek and posse of
unruly purple people eaters, analogous
to doppleganger Barney's (the playful

dinosaur kids love), nonetheless able,
ready and willing to shoot cruel, galling,
leering, quizzing...painful piercing skin
hardened killing stares accompanied with
smoke issuing nostrils awaiting golden
opportunity to kick me bony *** keister
while I frantically scurried, hightailed bat
of hell exitted out hydraulic operated door,

oft times mostly quick enough to hurriedly  
scamper among madding crowd of students
eagerly (ha) awaiting to enter academia's gruff
feet teed hallowed bricked walls, one puny
pubescent hiding these lovely bones out of
harm's way, meanwhile my heart did beat mile
a minute, profuse sweat drenched (even during
dead of winter), and pulse went thru stratosphere,

which reprieve lasted until deafening bell broad
cast courtesy intercom indicated all liz fair in love
and war (that sacred metaphorical loving battleground
being trapped inside storied halls of learning thank ye
skool of hard knocks, doing level best to sidle in close
proximity to baddest, biggest, boldest incredible hulk
hoping to stave off inevitable, yet unbeknownst to this
then scrappy runt, said goliath brute (I spontaneously

cozied up), alongside main ringleader regarding rebel
rousers, thus unwittingly, nicely, handily delivering
sought after prey perfectly into predator's clutches
realizing to late (ex post facto), a self touted pièce
de résistance did nothing to thwart salvation, ah joy
fully recalling fond memories contributing to electric
kool aid positive battery acid test learning experiences
at Methacton ideally trained for guerilla warfare.
(Aye apologize for straying way
outside thee usual canon -
     a poetic souffle,
boot desperation
     finds me cent less,
     Thus i pray
for divine intercession, this may

day call sent out, far
     chump change moo nay
     (near zero dollars
     in checking account)
     this near crack 'o dawn
     to rescue me - okay?
----------------------------------
aye yie yie,
     aye ham awake
     at two o'****
     in the morning
ye yie yie,
     aye ham awake
     at three o'****
     in the morning

ye yie yie,
     aye ham awake
     at four o'****
     in the morning
keenly aware of major
     appliances conversing ad-hoc
no doubt conspiring to sock
this dirt poor dada

     directly in ma keister,
     where i take flight
     amidst a flock
of seagulls honking
     at my unintentional
     "FAKE" chutzpah to block
their instinctual migratory path
     from swift tailored kick

     in the buttock
as iterated above
     from energy guzzling
     electricity trapping shock
king lee vengeful
     Peco powered accouterments,
     whence this air
     born papa chock

full of anxiety, asper
     no where to
     turn and ****
key for getting,
     perhaps stealing myself
     as a stowaway aboard
     an unattended ship at dock
or as a las resort resort

     to a life of crime
     with deliberate intent,
     where "the fuzz"
     take me to lock
up, no way most certainly
     not a place
     to sing sing about,
     and most likely end up

     a scape goat kid
     ding lee bullied a knock
on me noggin will
     find me seeing mock
believe stars, which warrants
     emergency medical
     treatment by "Spock"
of star trek fame, whose

     Vulcan antidotes wok
like a charm and find me
     well on the Scottish peck
     road less traveled,
     which sends me Bach
to the future,

     where i encounter
     my pluperfect self
     (barely recognizable
     richly adorned other self),
     with many a golden lock
compared to mine limp hair
     resembling plastered schlock.
Amelie Beth Harris
fresh out womb blurted "ahoy"
melded as genetic
deoxynucleic acid alloy
awkward first time parents

natural affection did employ
Boyce and Harriet Harris
shed tears of joy,
and feted yearly birthdays,

thus much appreciation ye did buoy
bestowed unconditional love,
thus tis impossible mission
to compensate, thus thank... oh boy

so much financial, emotional debt
I Cain never be Abel to repay...
Benjamin McLane Spock
(May 2, 1903 – March 15, 1998)

quickly became Gibraltar rock
Baby and Child Care (1946)
one of the best-selling
volumes in history
mother frequently referenced,

whenever figurative roadblock
dog eared pages testimony
frequency when apprenticed
at tender age very sensitive

if made accidental laughingstock
then in later years came to my defense,
when this younger brother
pitifully relentlessly teased

courtesy daily bullies targeted me
as token "scapegoat"
pitched yours truly into
verbal suffocating deadlock.

Protective "big" sister
not twisted, yet dynamic as twister
(think bodyguard), and during
play school served as kapellmeister

threatening to kick keister
of anyone who so much
as harm hair on my head
tattooing with resultant
cheeky chic bubbling blister.

Well perhaps hyperbolic stock in trade
slight exaggeration regarding above,
though only 407.417 days age gap
between this scribe and his aforesaid

sibling, the psychological maturation
pegged much greater oft times made
eldest sister donned trumpeted role
much higher emotional paygrade
of surrogate mother

quasi maternal aid
amazing thirteen months older
though more frayed
nerves i.e. mine this
middle progeny i.e. me

dependent analogous to preschool grade
kid (taut) with homesickness anxiety inlaid
missing his mommy feigning
happiness as charade.
Lower gastrointestinal war civil declared
because sweet tooth (er...rather dentures)
craved absolute zero sum game yoking,
wickedly villainous, x'acting tummy
upsetting Pavlovian salivating, romancing,

quid pro quo woe pea pie us, orthodox,
conventional, nun habit forming (Lie),
mouth watering, lip locked, kickstarting,
Je Suis ill lust trios, hymn bracing, gob
stop ping, feasting immediate enema

inducing, decadent chocolate baneful
cake courtesy of adoring bubela, (the
same over stuffed ego freezer oft
mentioned counterpart), charming,
hugely overpowering tenderly loving

zee missus diabolically exuding
"FAKE" gracious humane insinuating
jabbering, knowingly loo man hating,
needful offal pestiferous quasi rip
snorting, **** under fire, violent

whooshing, expelling xyz lower
abdominal contractions, indubitably
kindling, jumpstarting instagramming
howling, fostering execrable, debilitating,
besieging posterior, automatically

clutching derriere, experiencing ferocious
gluteus maximus intractable jabbing, knifing,
lacerating, mutilating nameless oaf (me),
painfully quaking das simian, torturously
undergoing vicious wretched excessive
yawping worse fate than death!

Otherwise *** hide from irritable bowel
syndrome this second July Sunday 2019
quite yawningly wonderful, uneventful,
sedate, quiet, ordinary, mundane, languid,
joyously humdrum, fabulously drab
characterizing local buffoon, i.e. yours truly.

Shall I cut thee a slice of outrageously
luscious, keister heavenly gourmet deluxe cake?
Lashed with fatigue,
eye cannot fend off lethargy
hazy, hot, humid weather zaps
mental physical, and spiritual energy
even men of cloth
various and sundry clergy.

Undoubtedly summoning Parson Brown
currently out of season,
though stratospheric demand
for his person now
unprecedented as summer
dog days force physical slowdown,

nonetheless he would
experience immediate meltdown
booked solid throughout
"Winter Wonderland,"
when deep freeze
doth make clampdown,

no matter sung by masses
with uncertain reason
caroling 'bout said enigmatic figure
heard in every hamlet
or sprawling boomtown
belted clear as bell

o'er nor'easter howl
undeterred by polar vortex windblown
chilling atlas shrugged
off undaunted facedown
weathering arctic blast
making snow angels

comfortably numb jollity reverses frown
even elderly folks
sport about though grown
spry stick figures shoveling tunnel
courtesy white blanketed lockdown
"careful ma am" not
to fall on keister or crown.

Presence of said parson
linkedin with spate
of blizzard conditions and
Frosty the Snowman,
whose power to bring society
to standstill will not abate

proof positive to commander
in chief who cannot extricate
whether from climate, and trumpets
what he doth cogitate
dismissing global warming -
calling out "end of debate"

twill usher doomsday, cuz he
and trolling henchmen skate
on thin ice, and whose
dawdling crass, base
actions only accelerate
day of wreck conning

when most species will
lack mien ways to acclimate
all the more rhyming reason
to bid mortality adieu
and slumber permanently
battened down hatches
with me sigh ease oompa loompa mate.
rather yours truly doth thrive
on keeping the ethos, mythos,
and pathos of Pigpen alive
subjected to eternal
abomination, brutalization,
condemnation, damnation,
emasculation, humiliation, ostracization,
who one day envisions himself
as a decrepit solitudinarian
an aging long haired baby boomer,

(I seriously contemplate donating
about a dozen inches of straggly hair
to locks of love, hoping
a stylist makes house calls -
since anticipatory anxiety
wracks these lovely bones
at the prospect
of setting foot inside a salon)
wherefore he might finally
cease to be a subject of derision,

but please do not chide,
a sexagenarian whose bruised ego
experienced more'n lifetime
worth of rejection,
whose first three plus decades
(approximately half my existence)
of mein kampf livingsocial I gingerly elide
where persona non grata of Charlie Brown
(essentially portrayed as a loser)
on his keister he did glide

cuz unkind behavior
demonstrated by Lucy Van Pelt
without fail always pulls away the football
disclosing her character,
who harbors spitefulness inside
earning her another point
of maliciousness notated
on the figurative blackboard,
when I chalked up and kreide.

The Peanuts gallery
populated pleasure reading
during mine boyhood
as well as the Little Engine that Could,
whose disposition evinced a solitary lad
never delinquent except one attempt
to get caught shoplifting a yoyo at Ames
Department store in Lansdale,
but other than that amazingly as all good
boys do fine.

Matter of fact quite few other comic strips
ranked as my favorite back when I read
the Philadelphia Inquirer Sunday edition
approximately two thirds
of threescore and three years ago
(approximately half life
of Matthew Scott Harris)
I cannot forget other comic strip titled
Andy Capp, Beetle Bailey,
Berkeley Breathed, Blondie,

Brenda Starr Reporter,
Calvin and Hobbes
Dennis the Menace, Dilbert,
The Far Side, For Better or For Worse,
Frank and Earnest,
Fred Basset, Garfield,
Hägar the Horrible,
Mutt and Jeff, Nancy, Pogo,
Shoe, The Family Circus, Tumbleweeds,
The Lockhorns,
The Wizard of Id, and Ziggy.

So many choices availed themselves
regarding how to while away
my leisure hours during
those fleeting twenties,
thirties, and forties of mine,
but yours truly (me)
frequently, easily, and decidedly
found contentment then and now
among the rank and file
of other not ready
for prime time players
soaking up newsworthy morsels
and if not reading aforementioned material
than appeasing the insatiable bookworm
holed up within corporeal complex edifice
housing these lovely bones  
cerebrally feasting on a favorite genre
possibly fulfilling hunger
for historical fiction
or miscellaneous nonfiction.
Graff1980 Aug 2021
So much is different
but nothing seems to change.
Desire is just a flame
that burns brighter
and higher than any forest fire.

Life isn't a white trash
trailer wife that won't hit back
when you beat her.
It isn't meeker
than the soft poetry speaker.

It is a strange picture
that I am trying to save,
the one you keep trying to take
and put it in its proper place.
Instead, I put it in a heart shaped
piece of jewelry you misplaced,

but now I want to
shove that lost locket
in your empty eye socket,
then light a rocket
right up your keister.
When the entire mug awash
with floating leavings
by golly by gosh,
sipping said herbal brew
analogous challenge
to eat spaghetti squash
with one chopstick.

Earlier yesterday February twenty fourth
two thousand twenty four
found yours truly (me)
blithely consuming delicious
La COLOMBE DOUBLE LATTE
cold iced latte, complete
with a frothy layer
of milk and a touch of sugar.

Lower gastrointestinal war civil
immediately declared
because yours truly beleaguered
by lactose intolerance.

Courtesy veritable sweet tooth
(er...rather dentures)
craved absolute zero sum game yoking,
wickedly villainous, x'acting tummy
upsetting Pavlovian salivating, romancing,
quid pro quo woe pea pie us, orthodox,
conventional, nun habit forming (Lie),
mouth watering, lip locked, kickstarting,
Je Suis ill lust trios, hymn bracing,
gobstopping, feasting immediate laxative
inducing, decadent chocolate baneful

cake courtesy of adoring bubela, (the
same over stuffed ego freezer oft
mentioned counterpart, who unwittingly
prepared spot of tea), charming,
hugely overpowering tenderly loving
zee missus diabolically exuding
"FAKE" gracious humane insinuating
jabbering, knowingly ill loo man hating,
needful offal pestiferous quasi rip
snorting, **** under fire, violent

whooshing, expelling xyz lower
abdominal contractions, indubitably
kindling, jumpstarting instagramming
howling, fostering execrable, debilitating,
besieging posterior, automatically
clutching derriere, experiencing ferocious
gluteus maximus intractable jabbing, knifing,
lacerating, mutilating nameless oaf (me),
painfully quaking das simian, torturously
undergoing vicious wretched excessive
yawping worse fate than death!

Otherwise *** hide from irritable bowel
syndrome approximately
twenty four hours ago
from Saturday February twenty fifth
two thousand twenty four
me quite yawningly wonderful, uneventful,
sedate, quiet, ordinary, mundane, languid,
joyously humdrum, fabulously for
two whit tuss lee drab
characterized local buttuck blaster
also hashtagged endearment
as bubble ****.

Now shall I cut thee a slice of outrageously
luscious, keister jump/kick starting heavenly
gourmet deluxe cheese cake?

— The End —