.

Z - A

Zonked Yanks eXport Weird Views Underpinning Terrorist Suspects, Risking Quiet Proliferation Of Nuclear Missiles, Leaving Killer Jihads In Hostile Groups. Forgetting Europe, Death Claims Babylon: America.

Zero Yields X’s Without Value. Useless Technical Solutions Regarding Quanta, Plainly Outside Newtonian Mathematics. Logic Keeps Jokers In Hearty Guffaws  Forever.  Eternity Derides Computation By Algebra.

Zap! Your X-ray Was Very Useful Tool. Sarcomas’ Revealed, Quality Prognosis On Masse. Later Knowledge Jibes; Increased Hidden Growths Frequently Entailing Death Couldn’t Be Anticipated.



A – Z

Away Bright Cinder, Drift Eternally, Fly! Glow! Heat Incandescent! Jeweled Key, Luminous Molten Nuclei, Ornate Precious Quotient, Radiant Shining Teardrop. Unknowable Volcanic Whisper, eXact, Yield: Zero.

Awful Blues, Crazy Dreams, Every Fleeting Ghastly Horrible Idea Jars, Killing Love. Murderous Omens, Portending Quiescence, Reduce Sleep To Uniform Vacant Wastelands, eXiled Yearning Zenith.

Acting Behind Closed Doors, Every Famous General Has Insight: Jabbering Khaki Liveried Majors Narrate Orders, Pursuing Quarries, Retelling Strategic Theories. Up Valiant Warriors, Cross Your Zone!

A Bitter Child Denies Every Friendship Going. Hate Instills Jealousies Knife. Lies Mean Nothing. Other People Question Reality. Sic Transit Umbra, Vile World. eXcise Your Zest.

Albert Ball’s Camel Dived Effortlessly, Flaming Guns Hammered Into Junkers. Keeping Level Meant Not One Pilot Questioned Richthofens’ Stall Turn, Underpinning Victory With X-elerating Yawing Zoom…

Although Boy’s Charm Doesn’t Explicitly Frighten Girls, Her Instincts Jostle, Knowing Laughter Masks Nights Ordained Paths. Quiet! Reason Sleeps Tonight, Unmasked Votive Wanderings eXpose Y-Fronted Zygotes!



r10.6.1

With an incident in which he was concerned

In the sweet shire of Cardigan,
Not far from pleasant Ivor-hall,
An old Man dwells, a little man,—
’Tis said he once was tall.
For five-and-thirty years he lived
A running huntsman merry;
And still the centre of his cheek
Is red as a ripe cherry.

No man like him the horn could sound,
And hill and valley rang with glee
When Echo bandied, round and round
The halloo of Simon Lee.
In those proud days, he little cared
For husbandry or tillage;
To blither tasks did Simon rouse
The sleepers of the village.

He all the country could outrun,
Could leave both man and horse behind;
And often, ere the chase was done,
He reeled, and was stone-blind.
And still there’s something in the world
At which his heart rejoices;
For when the chiming hounds are out,
He dearly loves their voices!

But, oh the heavy change!—bereft
Of health, strength, friends, and kindred, see!
Old Simon to the world is left
In liveried poverty.
His Master’s dead—and no one now
Dwells in the Hall of Ivor;
Men, dogs, and horses, all are dead;
He is the sole survivor.

And he is lean and he is sick;
His body, dwindled and awry,
Rests upon ankles swoln and thick;
His legs are thin and dry.
One prop he has, and only one,
His wife, an aged woman,
Lives with him, near the waterfall,
Upon the village Common.

Beside their moss-grown hut of clay,
Not twenty paces from the door,
A scrap of land they have, but they
Are poorest of the poor.
This scrap of land he from the heath
Enclosed when he was stronger;
But what to them avails the land
Which he can till no longer?

Oft, working by her Husband’s side,
Ruth does what Simon cannot do;
For she, with scanty cause for pride,
Is stouter of the two.
And, though you with your utmost skill
From labour could not wean them,
’Tis little, very little—all
That they can do between them.

Few months of life has he in store
As he to you will tell,
For still, the more he works, the more
Do his weak ankles swell.
My gentle Reader, I perceive,
How patiently you’ve waited,
And now I fear that you expect
Some tale will be related.

O Reader! had you in your mind
Such stores as silent thought can bring,
O gentle Reader! you would find
A tale in every thing.
What more I have to say is short,
And you must kindly take it:
It is no tale; but, should you think,
Perhaps a tale you’ll make it.

One summer-day I chanced to see
This old Man doing all he could
To unearth the root of an old tree,
A stump of rotten wood.
The mattock tottered in his hand;
So vain was his endeavour,
That at the root of the old tree
He might have worked for ever.

“You’re overtasked, good Simon Lee,
Give me your tool,” to him I said;
And at the word right gladly he
Received my proffered aid.
I struck, and with a single blow
The tangled root I severed,
At which the poor old Man so long
And vainly had endeavoured.

The tears into his eyes were brought,
And thanks and praises seemed to run
So fast out of his heart, I thought
They never would have done.
—I’ve heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds
With coldness still returning;
Alas! the gratitude of men
Hath oftener left me mourning.

Last October I wandered a new trail
Leaves had begun to turn and fail
Some stillness 'tween the trees beckoned me,
"Come see"
But it was nothing new again
I had been there once before
So trod a little more
Familiar ground, green beards on rock
Crunching sounds, lichen liveried trunks
Can' t fathom still how
Solid earth let my body down
To stretch out flat, posed a corpse
In his leafy coffin, I suppose
Above, a blur of yellows, peeling
Paint drifting from the forest ceiling
Into slightly parted lips:
Ave Verum Corpus
Then remembering the cherished face
I yearned to see 'ere I leave this place

Sixty lives are all linked with thirty kidneys for survival.

Scientists are suggesting sweeping the skies clean

with a celestial broom…. A man has scuffed his shoe

(which was costly)on the sidewalk.  Women

dream of democracy, but the government

burns their children and there isn’t a shroud to see.

I am drinking tea and eating cookies,

it’s a Sunday afternoon, and almost time for

my nap, as my head nods and bobs again.

The world of foreclosures was falling off the page.

I felt as if I was fighting a judge… loosing the battle

my house falling into a ditch. And then the moat

opens into castle walls lined with red liveried men

draped in gold braids. And what magnificence (f/o me).

A postscript to my dream, my dream of a white stallion,

harnessed to hoof over the moors.

All our greatest presidents were lucky.

They inherited national crises.

All but one preferred a Nerdgasmic life

a life that can be supplemented

with a Gallup poll approval rating.

So late in the afternoon and already

a dog has been fed and walked down

the road to *** on a walnut tree.

Fatima  

A lady rich, perfumed and dressed splendidly was driven
by her liveried chauffeur to Lisbon when she, at a certain
point asked her driver to stop; yes the rich also need obeying
****** functions. Later she looked down into a valley where
three children were guarding sheep two of them were eight
the oldest one eleven, the lady waved her manicured hands
and said something the children didn't understand  
except the oldest one who told the other two it was ****** Maria
who had blessed them and warned them of secrets that could
only be told to a priest. When the children came home, they said
what they had seen, but the secrets the oldest one told a priest
and the secrets are still kept in the Vatican.
At the place where the children have seen ****** Maria, pilgrims
came the blind, the sick, the lame and the mad looking for a cure,
and today it is a holy site with hotels, shops, and restaurants.
Pilgrims keep coming, some walk for days to atone for sins they
might commit sometimes in the future, what a wondrous thing,
how irrational truth can be a diamond in the heart of worshipers

Far away from world's metropolis
a princess ambled through opulent bliss
of father's palace, grounds and orchards,
raised her eyes to see four birds

birds of fairest plume and tail
from vantage scanned the hills and dale
forests green, pools deep blue
her father's estate as they flew through

'beasts of feather, light of wing,
speak to me in tune and sing
of your travels, your flighty wanderings
in yonder world and teach me things.'

'teach me how they churn the butter,
those who live 'yond palace wall,
tell me, set my heart a-flutter,
teach me things, great or small.'

'for i yearn to venture hence,
far from rubies and emeralds,
the smoke of myrrh, of frankincense,
the liveried courtiers, serfs and heralds'

'of father's court, though i cherish,
and love him with my heart and soul,
i long to 'scape from the garish
from the ordinance and rigmarole'.

the birds, they heard her royal cry
and swooped her up into the sky,
sailed with her through the air,
each one wing for regal chair.

away from the kingly palace,
it's velvet drapes and plush red carpet,
silver trinkets and gold gem'd chalice,
onto an edge of a village-market

Placed her gently on brown'd grass,
on scattered remnants of late repast,
paper-waste and broken glass
as two drawn peasants hurried past

Midst the noise and revelry
o' drunken soldiers and cavalry
shouting out in raucous tune
strewn on steps o' stones ill-hewn

'oh take me back to father's place'
cried the princess, tears on face
staining delicate skin and features
as she sought the feathered creatures

but they had gone and wouldn't return
for twoscore months and more,
the princess was to stay and learn
to live with longing at her core

for her father, so far from her,
for that rare 'n subtle existence
vestige of love to sustain her
as she mourned the time 'n distance

as she counted days and weeks
when once again she'd reunite
with mother's kiss on her cheeks
with father's love, her own birthright,

would berate her on her lateness,
would embrace her in their arms,
tell her of her untold greatness,
tell her of their love, her charm

tell her that no matter where,
in deepest darkness or noise of fair,
in truth her father was sovereign supreme
though unseen, he's with you there.

My generational paradigm, the way I see me
generating out put from input,

slow thinking things that did happen,
as sure as one may seem,

when one puts one's foot down, and marks t
true we be,
after our writer is dead, alive,
your reading does the trick wait and see,

when I am as lost to common history
as Marvel Parsons and old Ed Childs,

who married into the Dailey family curse,
the result of a runaway father, or
incarcerated father, or crazy drunk *** father

f'given me
this bottle. Johnny Walker Red, ai, I have no clue
a horseman from the look of the company image,

like one of those liveried boys, in antebellum,
economic stability of class distribution of leisure time,
taking the rein, to hold Ma'ams horses, and stand

stiff as a little statue, to this day, see,
we were armed with far fewer words for wonders
observed but never served with hows and whys,

temperature and pressure, hot and cold,
fresh and old, as brand new carbon 14,

fresh from the end of molecule of N,
ping, tic, tack a timer on this atom,
watch it be taken down, in rain,
as carbon, with a message,
live and learn, the end
of all things is being
at once,

any given instance, being you, is so rare, run the numbers,
what good is earth? Lucky for you

I happen to know, from the first fusings refusing to nothing,
as if reaching toward, to warden, make good, the hope,
reaching around with all the e in our shared outs-per-ience
science, with meat, con carne, conscience, hey, chuy,

do you have no friend named Chuy, Oy vey, way way back,

we had a story rise from the wanderers, boys who took
the opportunity to **** for a living, very seriously,

we all wannabe Audie Murphy, led by John Wayne,
and that guy from Naked City,
certain ones, fed flour tortillas fried in golden Crisco,

experimental spit it all out, what is the secret meaning
in of for by all adaptable pre-positioning or al, posited,

Syble, possible, an allusionary stretch limn goes
to limnos and we slip in the slime of phonemic missed

concepts, with taken grip, grab and hold, catch, that
concept
imagined as Disneyworld, to a child who never went,
but watched the concept occur on TV.

And now, we may revisit the Disney-ifity, and compare,
who imagined this future,
who imagined that.

So who is happy, having won, who is scared of death?

Though I wrote no book
attention summoned to look
at following--->>>

predicated upon past and present, I gauge
will offer ogre golden opportunity
to rewrite anarchistic playbook page
with rightist extremist to rage
usurping future political stage
cuz civil war he aims to wage.

Impossible mission, nonetheless
eschatological, diabolical, critical...
dire straits betokens armageddon.

Upon virtual wall wordsmith
nsync with adept graffiti artist wrote
toadyism prevalent when electorate will vote
on Tuesday, November 4th, 2024
Grand Old Party trumpets intent to smote
vestige of liberty,
where outspoken libertarian orators quote
freedom fighting martyrs
cite American Democracy legacy as footnote
hellacious, ghoulish, fiendish,
egregious demagogues cutthroat
eliminated candidates begetting antidote.

Courtesy human papilloma virus (HPV)
begets growth(s) designated as wart
unwanted infection easily remedied
unlike deadly societal blight necessitating
mandatory voting obligation to thwart
lest one unwittingly greenlights
horrible malevolent former poor sport
forty fifth president of United States
twice eluding impeachment
earned him dubious distinction
counts mobocracy within in his court
even at expense sacrificing
national pride birthing enfant terrible
monster Roe versus Wade cannot abort.

Above prognostication gives casus belli to y'all
bespeaks impending apocalyptic windfall
Spanish and English writing on border wall
homegrown garden variety apprenticed screwball,
muster civilians and military troops coup to marshall
law brinkmanship ticks doomsday clock, hence the call
weapons of mass destruction concomitant ashfall

overthrowing pathological megalomaniac
née commandeer of human abuses free world oh God,
this exclamation ******* courtesy house atheist
runs ruinously, reprehensibly, rampantly roughshod
scaring out bejesus within winkin blinkin and nod
land of powdermilk biscuits and raw bits promises
to become ground zero predicated boneheaded clod.

Atrocious, cantankerous, egregious,
grievous, ignominious... dispensing
most every venerated, ushered, touted,
sacred, revered, pronouncing
progressive amendments dead
on arrival blithely shredding to tatters
hard won diplomacy courtesy talking head
likewise progressive reforms since Fred
Flintstone days of yore shelving
codied, ratified, sanctified... shed
jeweled important legislation,
plus Russian musk cows to wed
Putin on the ritz.

Blasphemous, cantankerous, deleterious...
execrable folly... doth seed
subsequently begetting and breed
anarchy, chaos, hell, plus helps
foment pernicious, ominous,
noxious, malodorous... misdeed
pitting one against another creed
internecine warfare, where liveried
troops don (auld) alternative energy
fighting gear powering, i.e. ac/dc freed

one or more ***** deed
done dirt cheap reducing at lightspeed,
the hard fought/won democratic
inalienable rights purportedly guaranteed
by United States constitution,
(though oft times bias, i.e. reed
anti semitism, charade, facade...) heed
trample equality, morality, universality...
making mockery (attested bleed
courtesy flagrant historical extant bigotry,
chicanery, depravity... greed).

Yours truly wears non matching
Buster Brown shoes and socks,
nevertheless I step off figurative soapbox
dodging any lobbed missiles or rocks,
no surprise bullied by same jocks,
who tormented me during high school
probably tattooed, pierced, and bald of locks
unlike yours truly, he sports quasi dreadlocks
as aging pencil neck geek feeling giddy
giving above inebriate of air spiel
quite alarmed as time ticks    
countdown approach to doomsday
when apocalypse harkened and heralded
courtesy atomic clocks.