It's a pity, its a pity
though we hate anything thorny,
 and silently meditate on serendipity,
  the cactus, we planted inadvertently,
 among chrysanthemums and roses
                                            we swear by,
grew real quickly, proliferated avidly.
Look at their ghastly smiles, prickly.

You find them raise and shine early,
on any weather, rain, drought or snow,
when the gentle flowers all are withered ,
and sleepy, they remain succulent and sturdy.

It's a pity, fragrant flowers loose heart easily,
but  cactus, without fail, remain  alert and cocky,
It's a pity, nice ones can't fight back and smile,
look, the cactus flowers ask for nothing special,
though spiky, they make us believe we are lucky.
*Aren't we thankful, for their tender mercies?

Well let’s just jump right into it.

Everyone knows, the question right, “Which came first?” So let’s suppose, just for argument’s sake, in this specific case that is, that which came first was the egg. It’s also really the end of it in this case as well because there’s no chicken to follow. Just really it’s followed with the warm lettuce and the recooked bacon, the unripe tomato on a freshly baked bagel, which for argument’s sake is really the only part of the whole she-bang that’s actually any good.

But if that’s true then why even include the egg. Why abolish the chance for a chicken to exist? Why not just get a plain bagel? Well it’s about protein, you know. Does anyone really even like eggs or do we just eat them for protein? Does anyone like them, for argument’s sake let’s call it Tim Horton’s, does anyone really like them, eggs that is, when they’re cooked at Tim Horton’s? Are they even really eggs or just that powder, you know what I mean, that eggy powder like the powder milk that they have in the military? And if it is right, that eggy powder stuff, would anyone even care? Morally I mean, you have to assume people (which people I don’t know, some people I guess) stand behind eggy powder. But others right, you know the ones, who are disgusted by the idea of eggy powder. I’m one of those, not ashamed of it either and you know what, let’s just assume that it is eggy powder that they use at Tim Horton’s in their bagel BELTs. Would I have bought it if I thought it was eggy powder, probably not but here we are and I did and for argument’s sake let’s just say I already ate the whole thing. I mean morally I’ve just saved a chicken’s life but now I’m revolted by my having just consumed powdered eggs (right that’s what they’re called).

Let’s assume also that now I feel as though I’m figuratively standing on a moral high-ground but I’m also more or less disgusted by what I’ve just eaten even though I’m proud of myself for having eaten it, or rather not eaten a genuine egg. I’m ashamed of my disgust right and this has now proliferated into a casual nexus of disgust, shame and pride.

Q: Is it better to eat the powdered egg and simultaneously feel pride and revulsion or is it better to eat a real egg and **** a potential chicken?

I foster an incremental relation to the cosmos, enticed regularly by its indefiniteness and appeal.
Its evolutions, innate behaviors, and formidable sciences are recompense for earth’s meager discrepancies.
I often engage in the caprice to dismount much dissatisfaction by the constancy of riveting celestial events.
These beings possess no artificiality.
Its prophetic order, ornate and stupendous architectural facets have allowed a crescendo of dispositional hysteria.

Prosaic imprecations are deduced from its auxiliary wherewithal.
There is no contrition in immersing in enthrallment nor is there fickleness in trust.

Magnificent bodies orbit in finesse and probability, achieving universality and control.

Though these incitements are exponentially cheering, my origin is but connoted in despondency.

Usurpers and ill-suited vandals proliferated by the intemperance of the Ptolemaic discipline.
Rustics, miscreants and idle minds misdirected by less virtuous planetary derision.
My cognitive severity asserted by ominous consummation.

Oh how these preponderant truths confine me unfortunate.

Soliloquy is but an affliction amidst this era of anachronistic reign.
Grandiose passivity is intolerable at this time.

I plan to dichotomize my adamant fate from precepts and conditions anew.
The deposition of malfeasant kings will be sought.

Ploys I have already configured; propagation is near to instigation.

I will exhort my ascent to prime eminence.
The stars will sanction me to a rightful end.

Chapter XVI
Vernarth Third Finale Fragment, Apud tertium final


Vernarth, runs ripped from himself, after himself, to try to stay in this Parapsychological Regression. His bewilderment was imminent. He was seen in this regression on Nevski Avenue, Saint Petersburg, and in the province of Yekaterinburg, looking for vestiges of the Tungus tribe.
Peter I Alekséievich or Pedro I of Russia, nicknamed Peter the Great Moscow, May 30 / June 9, 1672- Saint Petersburg, January 28 / February 8, 1725.) 1 son of Tsar Alexius I and his second wife Natalia Narýshkina and successor of her half brother Teodoro III (Fiódor Alekséievich), was one of the most outstanding rulers in the history of Russia, belonging to the Románov Dynasty.
He ruled Russia from May 7 (April 27 C.J.), 1682, until his death, and before 1696 he did so along with his weak and sickly brother, Ivan V of Russia. It carried out a process of modernization through westernization and expansion that transformed Moscow Russia into one of the main European powers. He married Eudoxi Lopujiná, with whom he had a son and, in second nuptials, with his servant, who would take the title of Catherine I when he succeeded Pedro after his death occurred in Saint Petersburg on February 8, 1725 as a result of an infection in the bladder.


"... It was reading Vernarth in a tourist magazine when I was on a visit to the region, previously I was in Moscow and its surroundings ..." The parapsychological regression trip, followed and resumed another course with Destination to the Iberian Peninsula, on the Jacobean Route Through Santiago de Compostela and Vigo, in the latter, place passes to see the remains of the crypt of a friend killed in a Crusade. Here the remains rest in the Pereira mausoleum .Continuing his tour in Portugal, Lisbon. In Lisbon, old and melodic Afro Fado, on the sheets hanging from the illustrious houses, saw his escapades continue, rummaging bookstores and offices to get to the rooms of Amalia Rodrígues and the bohemian Lisbonense, who asked for more of his presence than the bartender himself placing port wine on the tables that cover their cork oak tables.


Does your regressive session continue, and was the doctor in charge asking if it was within your will to wake up and end the session? .Vernarth ...; He says with a gesture of his right hand, clutching his left wrist, that he wanted to continue and did not know if he would come back from himself. Which caused the doctor a strange and worried sensation, so he asked for a break before this unusual and abrupt situation. The windows of the room vibrated remarkably low, as if the thick strings of a cello intended to leave everyone diminished, to feel nothing more than himself, the very experience of a simultaneous True Warrior in mere compartments of a life that has currently disturbed him live without being part of any!


The session continues:
"... On a ridge in the middle of combat, Vernarth crosses for more below the positions of the Persians, on him and some like Mardiath, leader of his squad in Tire. Accompanying him, they could feel the thousands of sound frequencies crossing each other. Metals whistling with bowed, high and mid-frequency waves crisscrossing with spears as they skidded off the muffled wheels with their burnt axles.  The herds of fortified elephants, huge towers of ivories slicing bellies and cutting the flag,cloths next to their embalmed suns. Mardiath protects him from the rear, to evict him from the hundreds of boisterous spears, which were intended to target their commander. The Xifos sheared the chins of the almost annihilated Persians. Some of the Greek mercenaries shone with great pride the totemic animals of war to tune the Hellenic ones who cut off everything that was put before them. ”
They continue chasing the peal of spears that no longer spaced more than the shadow of their companions. The ringing of the voices that cut the metal rattle winds continues, diverting the coral trotting of the Macedonians with those of the cavalry, which faster than the others echoed the soon to take of causing always close wounds, where nothing was already with their defense weapons.

Vernarth says: With me there will be nothing ... anything more than how much will be counted, nothing more than being eternally brandishing our Xiphs. Medea ... full sorceress, tell me that I have to bet more than multiply my forces, without being able to unite with your potions of my right breastplate yet?

Medea replies: It must be applied with the woodcutter's hatchet ax. She hardens the edges of the banner, flaming, and the feather that moves the plumes that will be reserved in the squares of your energetic blasphemies. It has already welded your breastplate more than a feeling of longing. She was watered by the sacred steam of the Bumodos and its waters. I am here in full dispute; you can now anoint your throne with squares for more centuries by commenting to the right of the regular rules.

Brisehal in Advance

“They were all in full swing of the latest outbursts of onslaught from both sides. Vernarth gallops across the right side over the spearmen and archers, when suddenly everyone is paralyzed at the sight of a giant shadow of an oversized dog appearing to them from the rear. Some dropped their weapons; others restrained themselves and did not know what to do ... it was even notable that they did not hear the voices of their Persian commanders.


In the immensity of their over proportions, the fusion of reality appears in that of an almost unreal animal that stood between them to intercede and protect Vernarth. Was "Brisehal", which was suspended with its quadruple legs over an area of more than two square kilometers?

It came from Dasht-e-Lut. After Brisehal bellowed and the troops of their self-contemplation were depopulated, they were emerging from the empty Wagnerian Gaugamela. Brisehal with her Anubis-headed mountain, began to move it and shake the space between earth and sky, like the hope of some parishioners to enter the garden-kingdom of Heaven. Before the day trembled with the movement of her trembling footsteps, Brisehal shuddered on both sides and stepped in front of Vernarth to preserve her. When her entire body shuddered, she eliminated the remains of parasites that fell on the insistent achemenids, on their smallest heaps that were seen to be liquidated with the greatest effect of their rotating forces.

They were immense thunderclaps that even scrubbed up to the spheroid clouds reddened by their rising. He turned from left to right as if wanting to exile them to the Desert of Lut, as if to tube his pro generation by the bundles of optical rope or high-density fiber, which could cohabit with Vernarth in his odyssey of the Horcondising (Vernarth lineage paradise to Gaugamela).

From Horcondising; Sudpichi, on the streams channeled like proliferated mirrors, illuminated the sky of his region like haloes of light showing each outcome of the Intervention of this enormous Dasht-e-Lut dog on a huge colorful screen by the celestial air of the nearby clouds.

A guard says: Our Lord Vernarth, is under the protection of Brisehal, just as we with his memory are his succession, we owe him great respect for his bravery and repercussion of his ancestry. I continue from here of the Tower seeing his operations of greater spirit, for the protection of his great heroic sign!

Brisehal, is introduced on the cavalries of thousands of horsemen of the Persians, on hundreds of groups of mounts that flew over their heads the cataphractic armor, also elephants that did not give truce but, the most devastated were the failed cars, which were totally annulled by the bellowing and fierce contortions that Brisehal gave angrily without stopping. From this moment on, Vernarth, who already had contracted wounds, was amazed by this mass of fright in the eyes of the Falangists and the movement of strategies already aimed at deserved success, ******* the huge hordes remained, prey to their fear and undeniable defeat. early.

Alejandro Magnus says: “This Victory has no concordance with others that I have overcome. I must imagine myself supported by the support of my land and my collaborators. Undoubtedly, the tendency of those who have left their sparse sweat on this plain tend to exaggerate, it gives room to further commend the victory of my commander Vernarth and his supporters. The only thing that we can affirm for sure is that our adversaries grasped at the expense of their resources, is that even though they are tremendously superior in quantity to those of the Macedonian army, they were disintegrated at this moment by our overwhelming powers.

Ellipsis Darius III in Arbela

“… In July 331 BC, the army of Alexander the Great would cross the Euphrates River, entering fully into Mesopotamia. At that time, instead of marching south on the river to reach Babylon, where Darius III was supposed to have fled, he chose to head north, crossing the entire Mesopotamian territory until he reached the Tigris River in the second half of September. At the same time, Darius III had marched north to Arbela, just over 100 kilometers from the vast Gaugamela plain. Unlike what happened in the battle of Gránico and the battle of Issos, there he could deploy the full potential of his troops to envelop Alexander's and annihilate him… ”.

Darius III says: Being in Arbela, I should never have disobeyed The Astros. When they moved and I couldn't look at them because of their immigration, I never believed that the nebulae that would cross in front of my eyes would be the chivalry commanded by Alexander Magnus, and the infantry by Vernarth joined Etréstles. Now I see him with his glasses in his hands drinking Nepente in the twilight with his comrades surrounded by Zeus. I meanwhile ..., I still think that I should never have abstracted myself from the last portion of Betelgeuse's movement when he circulated around the border of the emblem of his seduction to the adorned orion belt.

At the time of knowing the movements and tactics of the battle of Gaugamela we find the same problem as always, the veracity of the sources of knowledge, whose account is very similar to that of the battle of Issos. According to this account, Alexander and the cavalry galloped diagonally and to the right, to avoid the caltrops and the failed cars and avoid being flanked by the Persians. Consequently, the Persian cavalry on the left wing moved in pursuit, aiming to overtake the Macedonians and envelop them. However, the Achaemenid horsemen did not realize that in doing so they had separated from the center, where a hole had been opened that allowed them to reach Darius III.

Vernarth says: in the hour that I ate of the black roses and their petals, I must savor the conversation that I had to have with the nature of our military training. Our strategy has oppressed the erratic tactics of the adversaries; the pressure of our Macedonian lancers disrupts the formation of the troops of the satrap Bessos, who end up losing the initiative and fleeing. In the center, the phalanx Me, Mardiath and Etréstles, together with the hipaspistas we will advance slowly but surely, gradually pushing back the Persian units. Brisehal has stood out above the outstanding lightness of the harassed Commander Satrap Maceo, annihilating all attempts to completely discredit him, of which his figure of high countenance was thus tainted. With the sweaty blizzard of the afternoon back then the fully grained shadow of Brisehal migrated to his Dasht-e-Lut desert from where he was confined by command of his allegiance to Vernarth forever and ever where both will always be seen at dawn play and jump.

At one point, after long resisting the burden of the Macedonian sovereign, Darius III makes his worst mistake. As happened in Issos, he gives up the battle when he was not yet decided for either side and flees, progressively dragging with him the rest of the nearby troops. In the face of this movement, Alexander immediately pursued him, and for a moment it seemed that the life of the King of Kings was coming to an end. However, the desperate call of Parmenion, who can no longer resist the fight against the Persian horsemen, makes Alexander desist from his persecution and allows Darius III to escape. When they were abandoned by their king, the Persian army became demoralized and ended up fleeing or surrendering, thus confirming the disintegration of the Persian Empire and the coronation of Alexander the Great as lord of Asia.

The end begins in a new beginning, Vernarth limps along the external bank of the Bumodos with his pectoral reopened and his back with purple colored diaphragms bellowing his resistance. He was accompanied by Kanti and, Etrestles and Mardiath who helped him endure it. They take their steps and approach the store where Valekiria was waiting for them; his consort to apply the sedative ****** essence with waters of the Bumodos to calm his pain, and later return from this great epic of his "Parapsychological Regression" that was soon to culminate.

It was so long ago
so many passing years.
I did not know If
I was happy back then.
Always working
never enough money.
children coming each year.
It was Springtime
I remember the lilacs were abundant.
We sat together on our old porch
a rare moment of us time.
our children were asleep
the youngest new as the spring.
seemingly ours forever.
hiding from us thier shallow roots.
that would be so easily transplanted.
This spring  morning early and quiet
I had no idea
I was happy then.
we drank hot coffee on the porch.
the newspaper folded untouched
full of war and drama of the day.
I remember looking at you intently.
Not as a wife or mother of our children.
But as that beautiful woman
I could never get enough of
when we first met.
The flowing golden hair of your head
tousled sofly in the morning breeze.
I was thinking only how soft it would feel
flowing onto my bare chest in our bed.
For a minute I was full to the brim
of you.
only you.
If only I could have
captured  that moment.
put in a jar
like a child collects insects.
to open again and again
through the passing years.
to breathe its sweet fragrance.
If you asked me now.
were you happy back then my love?
In that long ago glowing morning full
of the promise of springtime
and its flowering carpets
drowning in the fragrance of lilacs.
that proliferated the lattice
I would have whispered to you
Yes, my love,
very happy
so very happy.

We fought wars,
Rough, ferocious and deadly deadly,
Genocides and Holocausts,
We killed, got killed and lived to tell the tale,
We still touched our mouths, noses and faces,
We sneezed, coughed and had high fevers,
We shook hands, hugged and kissed,
Yet we survived and lived to tell the tale at the tail-end.


Wars were fought throughout the world,
World wars and wars for supremacy,
Nuclear wars and cold wars,
Religious wars and wars against colonialism,
Tribal wars and civil wars,
Trade wars and industrial wars
Insurgencies and conventional wars,
Wars against Ebola and wars against the SARS virus,
Wars against slavery and apartheid; and wars against oppression,
Wars about us against them and them against those that are against them,
Some, really senseless wars.


We emotionless watched them fight their wars with arms folded,
As they emotionless watched us fight our wars with arms folded,
It is not our war, they felt,
It is not on our soil, we reckoned,
They are not our people, we believed,
Our economy will not be affected, they said,
After-all, we share no common Ancestry,
With pride, we developed a defensive “Them” and “Us” attitude,
Every nation for herself and only God for us all,
We never wanted to be part of others’ wars,
Neither did they want to be part of ours,
Depositing the spirit of Worldianship into acute non-existance.


Today, a horrendous and cataclysmic war has been declared against the world – them and us,
Ruthlessly savaging, ravaging and bulldozing the lugubrious world full of them and us, like a demented storm really gone mad,
A devastating and ruinous world war 3 with some shift of gear,
An atrocious insurgency against a common but deadly and hostile enermy,
A silent, ruthless and predatory bandit which intentions are catastrophically loud, heavily thudding and explosively explosive,
The wide world has been dolorously and traumatically held to ransom,
And ransom of the worst order and disorder,
Plunging the outrageous and despicable West and the rest of the cultured world on one side,
Fighting side by side in a war they never wanted to fight,
Not even side by side,
Desperately befriending my unspeakable enermy because he is the enermy of my enermy,
And the enermy of the enermy of the enermy who is my enermy,
Just imagine the symbiosis,
Just imagine.


Desperate and distressed children of the world have been unintentionally isolated and agonisingly violated,
Tightly curfew-ed and strictly quarantined against their will,
Some, with neither food nor means of survival,
All, converted into Inmates in their own homes and excuses for homes,
As the catastrophic war notoriously spreads like a ravaging bushfire on defenceless nations,
Taking with it innocent children of the subconscious and powerless world,
With some, falling dual victims of the calamitous virus and also the armies,
Little-minded combat and action-hungry armies that are supposed to be protecting them,
Siding with their own enermy and the enermy of their own people,
Shame on the children of the sorrowful soil,
Children of Kunta Kinte, Zwangendaba, Mzilikazi kaMashobana, and Chaminuka,
Children of Moshoeshoe, Kgabo, Kaguvi and Kazembe,
Children of Skwati, Sikhukhuni, Shaka and Shiriyadenga,
Children of Soshangana, Christopher Columbus, Jan Van Riebeck and Vasco Da Gama,
Shame.


A little child distantly cries elsewhere in Africa’s distant peripheries of domineering poverty,
She sickly cries her last cries for food and last cries ever,
A little bundle of a network of visible veins lying on a reed mat like a ragged rag doll,
A tiny, vulnerable innocent crossfire victim of the massive deadly disorderly war,
Last in a family of twelve, that never had food since the first day of the lockdown,
As father and mother sadly gaze at each other, tears are shed and shared in capitulation,
They cannot leave their landlocked tiny shack to go out to look for food,
Their poor offspring lackadaisically closes her tiny eyes for the last time,
Departing from the weird world in a war that was never hers to fight,
Not even her “church mice” parents,
She dies in painful hunger and of a painful hunger that was the grandchild of Corona’s making,
A child of the African dusty soil prematurely returning to the African dusty soil,
A crossfire victim of corvid19 of the Chinese ancestry,
An indiscriminate weponous weapon of mass destruction,
Shame.


Amidst all this, songs get sung phonetically in different languages and tunes,
By different nationalities of different nations and nationalisms,
Touching and emotional songs, embodying and incarnating just but one and the same theme,
Coronavirus, corvid 19, the heartless witch which is son to a heartless witch,
Where do we run or even crawl to for safety?
Where really, at this humanity’s tattered and shattered darkest hour,
Our hour no longer our hour,
We have fought worse wars with worst enermies than you,
More titanic, more ravaging, more calamitous, more faceless,
Albeit, we lived to tell the tale,
The fearless warrior children of the fearless warriors that we fearlessly are,
We do not fight to fight another day,
And we cannot just fold our cold arms as you recklessly scotch our lovely earth to oblivion,
Rapacious Corona, it is just a matter of time,
Just a matter of time,
Corvid 19 – obnoxious bandit father of an obnoxious bandit wizard,
Heartless dissident son of a heartless dissident witch,
The epitome of prolific disrespect, involuntary solitude and proliferated solicitude,
The personification of convulsive misery, spasmodic destruction, and multitudinous deaths,
What goes around, comes around,
Just a matter of time.

I.

Eyes taking survey
of immediate surroundings.
Habitable? Yes.
Presentable? No.
At least not to anyone
lacking the neuroses which
with such resplendent ecology
were given perennial bloom
in the mental landscape
of this peculiar creature. . .  

Dwelling, as he does
within plaster walls
upon concrete floors
beneath fluorescent lights, as they
quietly hum a low B flat and illuminate
filth and fur amassed in quantities
sufficient to reconstruct entire animals,
and perhaps even ecosystems...

Drugs in their various guises and dis-guises
paraphernalia indiscreetly proliferated
Musical implements, instructions, and instruments
supinely littered, almost as profusely
as the mountains of literature courting
avalanche from the rigid repose of
each supportive surface where they rest

Brooms weeping in neglect of their sweeping as
spiders nest betwixt the bristles, but
at least they keep the bugs out...

Records in crates and stacks with
no particular organization. Hmm.
That last line sums it succinctly.
"No particular organization."
Yet he still unaccountably knows
within this squalor where
the minutest of objects reside

His thoughts and actions
are sporadic, leaving linearity
in want of apt expression
For him, it seems the shortest
path between two points
is a frenetic scribble

Getting things done
in a timely manner? Possibly.

Getting sidetracked and forgetting
the original plan? Probab-  HEY
                                                         DID
                                                  YOU
                                                         GUYS
                                                  SEE          
                                                  ­       THAT?!?!?!?!
 

II.

                                And    ­                  
"Whoever lives this way, cannot be well!"
Someone might say, or, perhaps even yell.
Erelong might this assertion be dispelled
                 With them and their opinion. . . . .
                STRAIGHT TO HELL!

For now the music of Debussy fills the air,
  and now this vagabond has found a locus
  a flag and bond of jouissance and care
  arresting him  in implacable focus

Inhaling the aroma of the night
  he raises up his quill with great delight
  and sets the implement in fervent motion
  and bathing in the passions it ignites

He yields to it in rapturous devotion
  and as if under spell or magic potion
  his brain and nerves and muscles all engage
  in spilling forth the fury of an ocean

Society has trapped him in a cage
  ensnared him in frivolity, it seems
  but his ink abounds in freedom on its page
  and guides him to tranquility from rage  

As Luna pours her iridescent beams
  into this weary poet's dreary head
  his mind illuminates with fate's esteem
  and ruminates through labyrinths of dream

As everything he's seen, done, heard, or said
  becomes a tapestry of order, woven
  with chaos as the impetus that's led
  this blessed magnanimity has shed

A light to guide the way; a path to show him
  to Athens' martyred sage whom he's beholden
  who espoused the noble maxim he's now chosen:
"Look deeply in thyself and truly know him."  

Look deeply in thyself, and truly know him!

III.

"If a cluttered desk",
a man once asked,
"Is a sign of a cluttered mind?"
"Of what, then,"
he continued,
"is an empty desk a sign?"

Vacant Streets
Barren homes
Concrete rubble scratching beneath my feet
Am I all alone?

Towering viridescent leaved Giants
On the other side of the road
Wind swiftly whispering hollow secrets
Into the grove.

I intently observe the grooved bark of a tree
What species is it?
I don't know, but I would like to know
My eyes scrupulously make their way up to the reaching branches at the very top
Next to this tree I observe is a tree stump
It doesn't look like it was cut with precision, it looked like a flash of unpredictable lightning chopped it right in half
Incapacitating it to no longer grow, ragged shards of raw inner wood
Now blackened with death.
The difference between the stump and the outreaching tree was one proliferated while the other did not due to death.
I felt my heart in my chest and arteries transporting blood to a part of my mind neglected and depressed
As the realization swooshed and then swelled into my heart,
that these conditions of my mind and circumstances were not forever
But temporary lessons
Yes, that's all these bad things are,
Temporary lessons
A tree can be cut but if not cut through all the way to cause death, it will grow around that cut, and everything else about it will eventually become bigger than those few times it experiences pain
The key to all of this was to move forward, grow
With limbs outstretched to the sky.

Just escaped from reality
Tiptoeing to delusion's point of entry,
Pseudo-relationship with no fidelity,
Contented with a never scribed weepie.

Out of the blue it proliferated,
Warmth really not anticipated.
Feelings should remain in reticence
Peculiarity should persist as dense.

The brisk walk of solitude
Instigated the emotional interlude
Ambiguity is deceit
Thus confide to fate.

Frenzied by the inkling,
Agitated by hypothesizing
Make-believe misapprehension
Struck by realization

A full swing slap
Painfully filled the missing gap
Unmask the ambiguity
Then become a fool voluntarily

A momentary glee
Never merits it genuinely,
Seize it while it lasts,
Until it will be part of the past.

I have found her
I finally found her
the distinct enchanting singing
which allures even the
perpetually frightened birds
to her crimson magnet lips.

once in it, there is no return
once in it, you wouldn't want to return anyway.
where the beads evaporate
through the dulcet clouds
only to fall onto your rampant seas again

she eludes nature
yet still acts in concert
befouls all my sorrows
So they cannot see ahead of me.

for what I love is rather bleak
unless it slips between the nets
of her silken mouth,
ensnaring my body
like the ever patly fog does
in the cold mid-spring morning.

I can't spot me, let alone her
I long to see her
but sharing the trait of a jolly sun
confines me to marvel her

'least I can hear the guiding caroling
leading my chained up limbs
to an old long farscaped gate
proliferated with strong green tendrils
that took such good care of it
as if they knew, that I would arrive

one day

I (a youthful sexagenarian)
can no longer quip being
a country boy at heart,
but me as urban cowboy,
I declare would never
so fuhgeddaboudit dear reader
nothing 'cept bucolic existence
laboring organic garden
harvesting fruits and vegetables
by the bushel and quart
constitute an appropriate start.

Don't get me wrong;
Every cell comprising
body electric of mine,
would yearn to prolong
and relish those bygone salad days,
whereat (R)oute (D)elivery #2 Level Road
also known as "Glen Elm"
or hundred acre wood,
when Mister Leiper and family
originally owned vast estate
(turn of twentieth century)
once awash, flush, and plush
with webbed wide world

analogous to miniature Hindu Kush;
one of the great watersheds of Central Asia
forming part of vast Alpine zone
that stretches across Eurasia east to west;
and runs northeast to southwest;
and divides valley of the Amu Darya
(the ancient Oxus River)
to the north from
Indus River valley to the south.

Rather than complain about mein kampf
and hard times,
which ain't no Christmas Carol,
fraught with the battle of life
amidst great expectations,
yours truly much prefers
crafting poetic verses
precariously perched on edge of chair
clicking Macbook Pro keyboard;
Every now and again taking stretch
to access excellent outlook
from powerfully pointed bedroom window.

Thus yours truly doth
poetically lightly kvetch
or tease out commonplace natural phenomena
nevertheless unremarkable flora and fauna,
or maybe even a dog
and her/his owner playing fetch.

His immediate observation when peering out
rectangular pane (more long than wide) of glass
constitutes plethora of dandelions
populates the greensward;
said wildflower proliferated nearly overnight,
cuz smattering yesterdays ago
Taraxacum officinale, the German "lowenzahn"
(which means "lion's tooth"),
and French "pissenlit"
Ligules the yellow “petals” of dandelion flower
carpeted the lawn, and quickly regenerated
soon after landscaping crew cut the grass.

A dandelion seed is the plant's mature fruit,
known as a cypsela to botanists,
and its parachute-like structure
known as a pappus.

The pappus develops
as calyx of each floret dries and matures.

There are usually 150-200 seeds per flower
and up to 10 flowers per plant.

Seeds can be dispersed long distances
by wind because they move in updrafts,
yet upon making landfall
scant number squarely take root.

verdant green acres covered the planet of the apes
like a petticoat junction
donning barrel of skinny dipping monkeys.

Once drought stricken vast landscape
far as the eye could see
suddenly flush with promise
of budding new shoots
and ladders for vine companions
harkened prelapsarian Edenic prominence,
when mother nature resplendent
videre licet morning glory of primeval Earth
pregnant with multitudinous color pallette
regaled bipedal forerunners

of humankind with
panoramic pristine kingdom,
where legendary tropical verdure
availed countless plant and animal species
teeming with flora and fauna
offering veritable Smörgåsbord
to plethora of herbivores and omnivores,
where expansive webbed wide world
subtly hinted, negotiated and suggested
horn and hardart of good and plenty.

Lush vegetation adrip with downpour aftermath
tempted all creatures great and small
all things wise and wonderful
to emerge from their respective hideaway
courtesy the palpable pulsation of Gaia
exuding potential power to proliferate
gifting superlatives linkedin to survival of the fittest
blessing natural advantageous propensities
to buzzfeed capital one reproductive traits
redeeming symbiotic qualities
with generations of beneficial mutations
at evolutionarily optimal junctures
though devoid of thinking beings
to witness or record phenomenal events.

Nasty short beasts proliferated
refining technique to do the wild thing
stir (fried) crazy
as concupiscent bison teen in estrus
while shuffling off to Buffalo,
(or where that city
in the United State of America
would take shape)
hashtagging where x marks the spot
made within man/woman caves
that did be hoof anthropologists
even nearly a bajillion years later.

Imagine dragons galumphing
during flintstone age
culture club wielding proto humans
impossible mission their mental acuity to gauge
of **** neanderthalensis
very intelligent and accomplished humans,
Whereby current evidence from both fossils and DNA suggests that Neanderthal and modern human lineages separated at least 500,000 years ago. Some genetic calibrations place their divergence at about 650,000 years ago,
nevertheless amongst the scattered clans
there probably lurked an anonymous sage
smart enough to induce quantum leap
did jump/kick start scattered population
with wits about them to sustain their existence.

Appearance of super duper wiseacre
invariably punctuated **** sapiens
progenitors as an unknown mover and shaker,
who helped fledgling forebears
of contemporary people
to discover trappings to weasel out
from being between a rock and a hard place
and squirrel away linens and things
for anticipated future creature comfort or necessity.

Imponderable and inscrutable poetic philosophical meanderings of mine (expounded upon while I nourished myself on a snicky snack prepared by the missus – graham ******* with Almond butter plus Rhubarb jam) found me most unexpectedly tangentially linkedin with the invaluable scientific knowledged bequeathed to civilization courtesy the greatest thinker for Grecian formula(s).

Noah (way) did Archimedes
(born c. 287 BCE, Syracuse, Sicily
[Italy]—died 212/211 BCE, Syracuse)
discover flood insurance nor prevention,
but hands down he ranked as the most famous
mathematician and inventor in ancient Greece.

He is especially important for his discovery of the relation between the surface and volume of a sphere and its circumscribing cylinder.

He is known for his formulation of a hydrostatic principle (known as Archimedes’ principle) and a device for raising water, still used, known as the Archimedes *****.

There are nine extant treatises by Archimedes in Greek.The principal results in On the Sphere and Cylinder (in two books) are that the surface area of any sphere of radius r is four times that of its greatest circle (in modern notation, S = 4πr2) and that the volume of a sphere is two-thirds that of the cylinder in which it is inscribed (leading immediately to the formula for the volume, V = 4/3πr3). Archimedes was proud enough of the latter discovery to leave instructions for his tomb to be marked with a sphere inscribed in a cylinder.

Measurement of the Circle is a fragment of a longer work in which π (pi), the ratio of the circumference to the diameter of a circle, is shown to lie between the limits of 3 10/71 and 3 1/7. Archimedes’ approach to determining π, which consists of inscribing and circumscribing regular polygons with a large number of sides, was followed by everyone until the development of infinite series expansions in India during the 15th century and in Europe during the 17th century.

Inconsequentially manifested
Proliferated; undefined, and unattested
Regurgitated, made to be insanity
-indeed- a redigested infrastructure
cannot save humanity
We have to be a family
To make our own prosperity
be proud to be what you refuse to see in you and me
And I can't breathe,
it's overwhelming to believe
what we achieve without further discretion,
no obvious direction,
time showing a reflection of infection
or a massacre or maybe just old age
but when we age we get weaker
and feel deeper
think we were more before
but I can see what we become
is an example of our past.

Who makes you who you are if you're always changing?
And where would you be without yourself?
What comes after death?
And is there a heaven or hell?
Or just a system of realities which are constantly rearranging?
And is there god?
What is the mind, and what are the odds that we exist as such intelligent creatures?
And what does life teach?
How do you define importance?
What does waging war solve?
There really are no answers; even while we're curing cancer countless lives are being lost.
And at what cost?
And where's the man in charge of all the death?
Where's my cut of the check?
Where are these dreams I was promised?

Coronavirus is a *******,devouring beast .
He surprised the common man,the nun,the monk and the priest...

His unbiased character strikes out the community of defaulters as well as the sinners alike.  

To restore man's moral premises.                            And brings  out all ties of good luck.  

Human sanctity and Mankind's barbarity, twisted morality and prostituted the scarcity of what remains of human  dignity.

Coronavirus  hits the poor and the rich alike.
He neither spares foes nor betrays allies.        
the aim is to insure a new lifestyle and curb any loose  control.    

Man is ungrateful to Allah 's numerous  blessings.  

His rebellious Nature made his sins proliferated in disdain...

Coronavirus is a latent disease that is spreading viral around like a summer breeze .

It annihilates countries with a history full of immoral corruption.  

The  pandemic comes to destroy the old world with  a ***** load of excessive lies .

The  plague is a dragon and a furious beast , spitting fire over his disciples  unscropulously to  mute their imprudent infedility .  

Their blind devotion to Satanic emotions alters their creed to nihilism and distortion.

double negative meaning golden years
joie de vivre of married life unknown
during our sputtering rancorous courtship
when skirting within danger zone
witnessed countless ruptures
courtesy selfish wordsmith,
who authored these words.

Circa ~ late spring/ early summer 1978
twas at behest of Harriet Harris,
thus due credit mother dearest
who tried, to bribe, coax, exhort...
(protracted effort not all in vain),
cuz her second of three progeny,
and sole son i.e. (me) to
commingle, frolic, immerse myself
quintessentially ushering yawping zeal,
cuz general disposition courtesy yours truly
heavily trended toward solitude,
limiting interpersonal opportunities
minus those crafted,
videre licet overactive imagination (mine).

I took immediate affinity
(think duck adapting to water)
to milieu of contra dancing
and soon became popular with the gals,
surprising myself how enjoyable
untrammeled pinteresting linkedin hoopla
delivered je ne sais quois joie de vivre,
(the most fun one could experience
without taking off their clothes),
me no exhibitionist by a far cry!

How fitting and proper
to state we (thyself and spouse)
met (for reel) and jiggered mine johnson
at Thursday night contra dance
Summit Presbyterian Church
6757 Greene Street,
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19119
(initially held at Church
of Saint Martin-in-the-Fields,
Saint Martins Lane, Chestnut Hill,
Philadelphia, PA 19118
scads of years past
(actually more'n deux times deuce
score earth's orbitz around
or quattuor decades ago),
whereby the missus claims,
she espied (yours truly
then as) young lad
(bookworm type fella)
with boyish good looks
and golden locks
emblematic of Samson,
who would be envious (ha).

At four foot eleven Delilah,
the petite prospective missus
(plus her waist length brunette tresses)
ball of fire stood out amidst
madding crowd drew attention (mine),
yet she vociferously, vigorously,
and vehemently still claims
initial awkward overtures
ascribed to Zison assertiveness.

Yours truly, he blatantly admits pranced as novitiate
devoid of interpersonal finesse and polish to whit,
a mere neophyte in a nutshell
hankering to sow wild oats that's zit.

Whereby our relationship got off to
(how shoal I say) rocky start
gallivanting with thee lass,
who would eventually
take me (grudgingly - ha)
as her respective lifelong sweetheart.

Unbeknownst to yours truly,
pent up unleashed testosterone
experienced disquieting alarm
adequately adept equipped with strong arm,
I tapped into secrete Lucky charm,
(albeit surreal environment
cavorting amidst madding crowd)
helped cultivate feral latent impotent
animal husbandry to farm
long fallow fresh unadulterated field

jabbering innocent blather,
brazenness embarrassingly proliferated,
but provocative behavior
smote ego (mine)
not with irrecoverable harm,
analogous to angry bees didst
adequately buzzfeeding naiveté
beehive ving like metaphorical swarm
(smartly stinging me) think freshly cooked
cockles and muscles clammy and warm.

I eventually acquired figurative ropes
regarding dating game
basic primal version
(at that time apps unnecessary)
nevertheless, call of the wild
thee woke former slumbering
beastie boy needed receptive body to tame,
he thus availed himself as lame
crash test dummy
feebly acquired social skills
bungled how to romance a capricious dame
readied himself to aim.

Aye celebrate thy life partner
with balance and swing
proffering courtesy turn
exhibiting gratitude occasionally
while with linkedin elbows turn a circle
punctuating spontaneity with do-si-do.

July 25th marks wedding anniversary
delineating, demarcating, denoting,
where the missus supposedly
filched mine bachelorhood,
whereby justice of the peace
Judge Henry Schireson,
(who still maintains an office
925 Montgomery Avenue, Suite 100
Narberth, Pennsylvania 19072-1913)
accommodated us as we became newlyweds
pledging our troth that hot July twenty fifth,
I try to recollect any vestige
constituting distinguishing,
under_scoring outstanding details
sifting thru hazy memories of past.
Today references when more' n force gore
and seven years ago
tha youngest daughter of
William and Sylvia Zison
found her lifetime beau (zoe)
pea ping over a paperback
(at present aye got nada clue of the title),
unbeknownst to him,
he would be
doing lifetime penance as a husband
and father, no longer

able to keep his head underground
like an ostrich or emu
foisted into marriage
when flagellated cell
didst ova whelm,
and subsequently flue
max, a panic prone
pencil necked geek
soon to learn goo
goo gaga, and brushing up
on Horton Hears a Hoo

learning to swaddle
airtight as an igloo
though a devout atheist gentile,
he attests genealogical lineage
linkedin many a Jew
but unfortunately only
scant details this groom knew,
hence he fabricated
while flushing in the loo,
which sketchy family tree
did include roomy, loony,

goofy, and cookey
offshoots, (essentially deadwood
pruning hooks never took down),
hence weak human DNA stock
freely germinating cow
wards less bright than
cloven hoofed bovines moo
ching and sometimes
tasting ****** Semitic brew,
especially espying bear naked lady
even yours truly

hollered yabba dabba doo
tasting verboten fruit
predestined to sire daughters
after enjoying despacito
while playing flugelhorn spitting
sputtering semantic glue
whereby biological totally
tubular fates loosed full bore
obligatory, yet paternal loving chore
foisting dada track detour
invoking fatherly delight

as fate found me to explore
the joys and sorrows
engaging das mister Harris
chieftain, sans family of four
attending, diapering, and pampering galore
which necessary task
aye could, nor would
be able to ignore
from which pier rill us
infant sea bay bee
launched jarring

insightful growing pains
attendant 'pon requisite
summer re: autotomy offspring,
when tears streamed
down cheeks as more
declarations of independence
meant nudging flight while pouring
heartfelt love shorering, and anchoring,
viz Harris blackstrap -
molasses survival skills,

thence giving progeny Thor
row lee - wharf fare
levying my best ******
gluten and MSG free
emotional bulwark whar
renting channeling concurrently bolstering
your preponderent swell alcove
harboring shipshape bon voyage.

Expediting distilled
when in the quarts of hue man ovens
this neptune salad days
steps outside summit Presbyterian Church -
and Westview Streets
near Weavers Way,
where yarn not gonna believe,
our traditional Jewish
wedding vows as merely imagined
courtesy fictitious Norwegian Jewish
bachelor farmer wannabe

so please pardon perfectly praiseworthy
precise preferential prevarication
page turning suspense
filled vaulted sepulchral air
ushering the veiled spouse to be
while afar off trumpets did blare
(arranged by
well known matchmaker Harriet Kuritsky)
creating the ambiance
analogous to a renaissance faire
yet contrasted in that this bachelor

and other men related to me
segregated with females and males
at a set distance away
i.e. not physically near
dictated by mandates
of Hebrew coda
stemming from Moses biological tree
which, separate quarters
ample enough to spare
until the proper toll of the bell would peal
accompanied by unified yippee!
After Rabbi Boyce officiated
for the groom and bride,
the crowd exalted with cheers
of L’Chaim with chutzpah
oompah sizzling and hot.

Klezmer musicians played schmaltz
which accompanied hoopla
as couples did waltz.
All the while family, friends and relatives
blessed the new groom and bride
although highly orthodox,
the men removed respective skullcap
more commonly known as yarmulke
some plain others dyed
women and children broke out
in traditional dance and song
while other did clap
exemplifying Yahweh to deliver mazal tov
and shalom as spiritual guide
to the pronounced husband and wife
who pledged their troth in a snap.
Toward conclusion
of typical Jewish wedding,
a full goblet of kosher red wine
got tossed in the air
this (in conjunction
with crush of emptied wine glass
sacred apex rite
of passage communicated a sign
and marshaled the crowd
to begin a local Jerusalem exodus
symbolic and clear.
As the newlyweds blissfully
and radiantly strolled arm in arm
and exited the Synagogue,
the euphoric and excited crowd
did house tossed handfuls
of uncle Ben’s unconverted libertarian rice
grown from norwegian bachelor farmers
on nearby organic whole foods farm
a chauffeur waited
to shuttle newlyweds to honeymoon location
passersby waved and bowed
and local fire department
rang a false alarm.

I can’t face the future and

turn my back on the past

at the same time. That is

like asking a pendulum to

pause midway between a

tick tock and keep rhythm.


Now doesn’t exist, it is an

illusion being proliferated

by Eckhart Tolle and those

of similar ilk, who profess

to having reached Nirvana

by stopping mind activity.


I bet they dream at night

just as we all do, nobody

can control subconscious

activity, even those dumb

blonds with dyed black roots

have rapid eye movement.

**** me...
so i'm the one who's called-upon
to call-out fake gore?
and i thought that journalism
was bad...
   ooh... this ****** of a realization
packs a punch...
but why always associated
with some *******,
                 like las vegas?
oh right, to the point,
i woke up early having realised
that i used the word:
paedophilia...
       to the extent of my knowledge...
i started jerking off aged 7...
i had my first kiss with a girl
around the age of 6...
   became a prominent primary
school pornographer
    aged 9 / 10 (distributed
          postcards of pamela anderson)...
gained this, foul mouth
by paying an extra tenner
on the already hundred and ten
to perform oral *** on
a *******...
     and... "oddly" enough,
born in may...
   1986...
       when chernobyll happened...
well...
    area of affect?
    no one was going to hear
about it...
   but some scandinavian
scientists reported "anomalies"...
how far from chernobyll
to where i was born?
    hyper-sexualised society,
viagara...
          perpetual hard-on:
strap-on...
             the madonna-*****
complex...
       ed gein -
the remnant artefact
   of proliferated Freud,
mashed up with
   an Edward Hopper
                sketch-critique;
beautiful...
time to move in.

a budding desire to leave
an afterthought of tears sprouting in the fields
unreasonable hopes and unobtainable dreams
a small amount of lines on a screen - its hard to digest wheels and wings, but harder yet to stomach the prospect of being, of lying sleepless breathing
back pain creeping, repetition steeping, the only thing persisting keeping cling to aching missing fleeing
argumentative sitting
conversations of speculative dissonance, proliferated distance, insisting dismissive
artistically passive tragic and diminished
there is minimal drive, suffocated motivation with nothing particularly persuasive, save for invasive ideas of loving ways and pay that plays a part in paving optimistic savings for an all too distant day

words are unbecoming
i'm restless in my consideration
around every corner lies a brand new issue
my peace pilfered and my worries proliferated

i think about you
i drag about myself
i wonder about them
i weigh out everything else

and in the end it amounts to nothing
i'm alone and no one understands
i account for every inch and note areas of concern
when things never go to plan

i'm dying for something to just make sense
everyday is a game i never win
are you a burden or are you a friend in need
i cant tell anymore and i'm tired of it