I smell. . . .
horse ****.
It's less offensive than the
*******
i've been seeing lately
They say it with their
hands, mouths, eyes
Desperate offences in defence of the indefensible

Tonight i sat in a safe space
where we clicked to show our appreciation
Heard resonations of clicking when a poet spoke words
that darted through our foreheads
And lit something there.

We knew the responses:
"This is new ****"            
NEEEEEEEWWWW ****?!
Clap the poet, not the points
the points are not the point

We knew we were offered

hearts

more than words

Their rhythms and awakenings,
arrhythmias, overflowings, and
midnight ponderings.

So we put our own into our palms
and beat them together for every poet
who dared to touch that microphone
to their chest.

The Entire Egyptian Military laid down ( there's that word lay laid) their arms of weapons designed for war, when the opposing armies, had revealed they had strapped Living Cats to their shields.

Why, you wonder? Well the Cat is one mighty fine refined focal point, hell even its waste is refined and a rarity in quality of Ammonia and is closest to the Pig um, and Humans, and Pig is for only one rather jacked up reason, and the biggest reason you might want to no longer consume Pork, um, did you know that before the flood, that wiped out the entire map, with its dark wters and buildings, rocks, wait.. lets try this... see it is not the water that kills and destroys the coastline by wave or hurricane, it is the debris of all that is previously knocked into absolute helpless submission by the water of loving rage and passion. see imagine the entire map, being in a washing machine for oh, lets say 30, no no, oh hell lets call it at 40 days. and with all that debris, cars, trucks, trains, um people, roofing wood, beams, what.. im sorry, what was that? what do I mean cars trucks, trains? um, well we didnt abuse the oil as we do now, remember do not harm the oil or the wine? but we abused other elements and resonations, and had oh , far more than we do now, well, I say that in the understanding of the average bear. cause we have it all jack, yep most the vaults have been found and are now fully, well for the most part reverse engineered, um once time , and vibration, speed and stable speed of, vibe, ummm. yeah, never mind, we had some cool **** you cant even begin to imagine, and we had genetic manipulations too, and you know how it is when we have done it all, we keep going, and so we get the platypus, um and even the half human genome pig. not boar, not Hog Pig hair less pink porker pig, jack, yep, human genome. so stop eating of it. and if you think that not a good enough reason, research the worms that live beyond 800 degrees 12 hours in the meat of the flesh of the beast. and you for life. and yes I didn't know and eat and found out by seeking and stopped. oh and research the glands in their legs that excrete.

~M Vogel
(sequestered from the status quo)  


Sitting here in front of this screen
my Artist Peppino, across my thigh--
[the greater (for the time being)
giving way to the lesser]

One day, I will be able to breathe life
in to your strings, my love..
the way I do words, on to paper

And on that fine, glorious day
I will no longer need these cheese-****
stupid ******* online poetry sites
to bring forth the music of my soul

Nor will I  continually  need to wade through
this never-ending barrage of classic  hiders
and their bastardization-like misuse of poetry~
in order to hide behind the very words
that should be  given the permission  to make them
become, truly known.

There is no alone-ness within the magnificent  resonations

of the perfectly plucked string
of the most perfect,  of guitars


     Like this one, sitting  right here  
                                             in my lap.

Sitting here in front of this screen
my Artist Peppino, across my thigh--
[the greater (for the time being)
giving way to the lesser]

One day, I will be able to breathe life
in to your strings, my love..
the way I do words, on to paper

And on that fine, glorious day
I will no longer need these cheese-****
stupid ******* online poetry sites
to bring forth the music of my soul

Nor will I  continually  need to wade through
this never-ending barrage of classic  hiders
and their bastardization-like misuse of poetry~
in order to hide behind the very words
that should be  given the permission  to make them become,  
truly known.

There is no alone-ness within the magnificent  resonations

of the perfectly plucked string
of the most perfect,  of guitars

Like this one, sitting  right here   
in my lap.