garage tools
orbital sander sanding away
big it up for the orbital sander
getting sand on now now now
hear the orbital sander sand away

orbital sander
orbital sander
orbital sander
sand sand sand!

like his mate the orbital grinder
give it a good grind
grind away on the go
watch that baby grind away

orbital grinder
orbital grinder
orbital grinder
grind grind grind!

hydraulic ramp going up and down
no car is too heavy
fantastic hydraulics
touch of a button up down up down

hydraulic ramp
hydraulic ramp
hydraulic ramp
lift lift lift!

laser gig perfectly aligned
laser beam on target
crash damage repair perfection
laser accuracy beyond compare

laser gig
laser gig
laser gig
laser laser laser!

boss is doing a ******* eppy
the tech is too reliable
he bosses and bullies
his young apprentices about

sweep the floor
male the brews
fetch the butties
you ****** slaves
boss boss boss!

In the past
glamour enamored
Sander Vanocur
should be put in the slammer
for lack of it
but I guess he's got candor
enough to lank her,
the lady of his dreams
as in a return to the soft drink Teem
** hum this topic
it's so myopic
I'll have to out and recopy it.

You are not broken, but all of the boys who
want a fixer upper find you.
They mistake their hips for hammers,
and their kisses for nails.
Their fingers, cold and impersonal,
as much hoping for a crack as
they are making them,
find the nooks and crannies,
and press caulk into them.
Shine them with whispers meant to
bring back the natural glow of a healthy woman.
They balance their hips on yours,
like that yellow bar on the mantlepiece,
is the wood straight?
is the construction sound?

No, they whisper, no it's all wrong.

Back to the drawing board, then.
This time, they'll build you right,
they promise.
Sand down all of the splintered places
where the last boys hands gave out before
your corners were womanly curves.
Dip your eyelashes into fresh black paint,
watch it drip onto your cheek
and leave it.

Watch it drip down your neck
and paint over it.

They don't believe in luck,
so they fit the curve of your hips to theirs,
not meant to be, not yet,
but you will be.
Their hands, coarse and broad,
turn your bitten, smudged lips
into things straight from a *****:
open and lush and
beg me, baby.

So you do.

You use all of the words he put into your mouth like rocks:
all honey and sweetie cakes and let me love you.
They broke your teeth going down, but
they taste like the sting of a slap coming back up.
You use all of the soft places that he made on your body:
let him fill them with caulk until they are unrecognizable,
until you, too, are unrecognizable.
You show him the constellation of scars across your shoulders:
whisper do you love me now? with your hand prints wide
across my spine, the sting of your sander against my waist.
You teach him about desire
with open legs
and open lips
and the tattoo of his touches on your body.

You teach him about sadness with sharp,
corners that are shoulder blades.
He doesn't recognize those, asks himself
if he missed a spot,
so you show him your splintered teeth
broken back
burned thighs,
ask him if he wants to try again.

Don't wait for an answer.

BUDDHA DOES THIS, IT SOUNDS ****** AWFUL, BUT BUDDHA'S HANDS ARE TIED
HE COULD **** DADS NEXT LIFE LIKE HE KILLED DAD, IT'S AWFUL, BUT LIFE ISN'T
ALL A BUNCH OF ROSES, I DREAM ABOUT A HAPPY FAMILY LOOK, AND THEN
WOOSH SOMEONE GRABBED ME, (STEVEN BRADLEY GRABS MY LAST LIFE GREAME THORNE) I HAVE FELT GREAT SPIRITIUALLY KNOWING THIS
AT PRESENT DAD AND ROBIN WILLIAMS HAVE BEEN REINCARNATED
AND RELATED TO JIMMY BARNES, DAD WAS GIVEN A YOUNG DUDE PRESENT
FROM BUDDHA FOR HELPING ME WHO IS CRONUS, UNDERSTAND MORE ABOUT THE WORLD, I AM LIKE THIS GIRL, I LOVE LIFE AND ARE TOO NICE FOR WEIRD SCHITZOPHRENIC VOICES, THANKS DAVID CAMPBELL FOR REBIRTHING WHAT BUDDHA TOLD ME, DUDES, AS CRONUS, TO SHOW THE BEAUTY OF EACH CORNER OF THE WORLD, AND I AM DOING IT THROUGH YOUTUBE, BUT ALL YOUTUBE JUNKIES LIKE ME, CRONUS'S CURRENT EARTH BODY, IS SHOWING
THAT THE WORLD IS BEAUTIFUL, AND I DID A BUDDHA CEREMONIAL SHOW
ON SUSIE'S AND MARCO'S BREAKFAST CLUB FOR KATRINA AND TOREY FROM
THE MARTIN PLACE SIEGE
WATCH MY YOUTUBEB SITES, AAA YOUTUBE TV AND AARON CLAYTON
SHOWING, HOW TO RID NEGATIVITY THE RIGHT WAY, I AM A BUDDHIST
AND I BELIEVE IN THIS REBIRTH OF BUDDHA

YOU SEE DAD WANTED TO STAY CLOSE TO AUSTRALIA, AND BE NEAR MORK FROM ORK
THE TWINS OF DAVID AND LISA CAMPBELL FROM CHANNELL 9
I HAVE BEEN MEDDLING WITH THE SOULS, TO SAY BUDDHA DOES WHAT IS GOOD FOR
THE LAST LIFE, NOT WHAT THEY WANT, BUT HE THOUGHT, DAD NEEDED
TO BE CLOSE TO ME A BIT, CRONUS YA SEE MY MATE THE MESSIAHDAN SAN, YA KNOW LOOKS ON THE INTERNET
AT RELIEF WEB.INT, TO WISH TSUNAMI'S, AND HIS CHARACTER WAS THAT BIG POWERFUL MAN, ME, I AM MORE LIKE THIS GIRL, WHO BELIEVES TO SUFFER
POSITIVELY, CAUSE WE CAN'T FIGHT THIS JEWISH MESSIAH, AND I FEEL BETTER
AS A KID, IN POSITIVE ENERGY, BUT I KNOW I AM A MAN BY AGE, BUT I AIN'T
INTO FIGHTING MUCH, CAUSE THAT IS THE REASON I SUFFER, THE POSITIVE WAY
DAN SANDER, WAS THE MESSIAH, WHO THINKS HE CAN CREATE THIS BLOKE COULD BE THE BUDDHA, CAUSE MENTAL ILLNESS IS A VERY TERRIBLE
THING, IT CAN SHOW, THAT ANYBODY CAN COMMIT CRIMES AND IT SHOWS
WHATEVER THEY'LL DO, IS DONE IN THE AID OF LOVE FOR THE FELLOW MAN
MIND YOU, I AM CRONUS AND BLACKBEARD THE PIRATE, AND I WAS KIDNAPPED IN
MY LAST 2 HUMAN LIVES, I AM ALBERT WALDRON, BUT I AM CRONUS HELPER
OF THE YA SEE I WAS THERE AS CRONUS, TO SPREAD THE WORLD FROM DOWN UNDER

TO LEARN ABOUT DIFFERENT CULTURES, AND LEARN A BIT ABOUT WHAT ****** PEOPLE

OFF, YA KNOW WHAT ****** PEOPLE OFF, HAVING TO EXPLAIN THEMSELVES TO A RELIGIOUS CHAP LIKE ME

I DON’T **** ANYONE OFF, AND NOBODY IS ******* ME OFF, APART FROM VOICES, ******* VOICES

******* SCHITZOPHRENIA FOREVER, BUT BUDDHA IS MAKING ME REALISE THAT THERE IS MORE

TO LIFE THAN MAKING PEOPLE SAYING YOUR SPECIAL

THE WORD IS REINCARNATION REBIRTH AND ENLGHTMENT, TRUST LOVE AND MERCY

My heart has walked the line, finding its place in its world and the place in my world where you settle and its all a bit of a whirl.

For a woman who doesn't believe in soulmates, you've become a lovely enigma of where I can't picture my life without you and you are the only one I want. Where you are the only star bright enough for me to want to fall through the tremendous skies to try to catch.

Its my constant hypocrisy, looking at you and seeing this heart I want only for me, a heart that seems to be so attuned to my own beats. A heart that seems so fateful sometimes I wonder how there cannot be some sort of universal intervention to lead me to you. It was all by such chance. I never expected, or even truly asked, for you.

Yet here you are.

And as I blink into the dim starlight, I think I know what you are, and how I can live between my two philosophies of you being meant for me yet our souls being nothing but the best coincidence I've had the honor to experience.

Its like I've said, writing, if anything, is my soulmate. I was made to write, to caress words like a fabled lover. Writing is on my belt, always on my hip, burning at the tip of the bone and something that will never leave me, no matter what. It is my personal and promised companion in an uncertain universe.

Yet something, in my darkest hours, sent me the brightest star I've ever seen to light my way and guide me towards my authorial happiest. True, I can nearly see less-lit paths in which I could be happy and even possibly, in a way, just as happy as this one.

But with writing on my hip, and this twinkle in my eye, you showed up and were everything I could have wished for and more.

That's what's so crazy about all of it; I even did wish for it, long ago when I was knee-deep in a passion for fantasy and true loves. I dreamt of a sandy hair boy with a flare for rebellion, loving all things unique. A man who liked to stick himself on motorcycles and see how fast they can go, who felt often alone but never let it ruin who he was. A person so strong yet so internally solitary a person like couldn't help but be magnetized.

I thought of my character as the hero, but oddly enough my proudest role for her, my facsimile, was to stand by the sandy-haired man and love him in his brilliance in a way only she could see. To be the only one to stand by him wherever life may lead, and be as damnedly brilliant right by his side.

But their connection and love?

It was the true protagonist of my stories of the Sander boy and his quirky girl.

Part of it is fantastically terrifying how much of them I see in us, of how much of my teenage love dream came true when I never asked it to. By the age of eighteen I had abandoned romance. I thought no one would want me, not the way I was. I didn't think there would ever be a man, let alone a sandy-haired one, in my future.

And then there was you.

Its ludicrous. Its all madness, looking at you sometimes. I never thought I'd be so lucky. I never planned for you. Yet look where we are.

We're brilliant.

So in its own way, my ideas hold true. I don't quite believe in soulmates, for love is unexpected and telling yourself you only get it once is cold and painful. But I look at the paths before me and you illuminate the one that has me and you and it looks so beautiful.

I am writing and I am so happy, and you are so brilliant right next to me and we're so happy.

I could be happy elsewhere. But after knowing you and following you like the north star, letting your light be my guide, picking you out of all the stars I could have had....

I can't regret anything, and I can't picture myself loving anyone so brilliantly and passionately as I feel with you. I could be wrong, I could be a fool, but **** it. Tonight, for every night I've known you, your brightness has surprised me and filled me with so much love.

For now, you are my north star, the thing that directs my path as I illuminate the night with you. I might be a pessimist, and maybe the universe did plan this all perfectly like a well-constructed art-piece. Or maybe I'm being an optimist, and we only found each other by luck, two ships in the night that happened to collide happily.

No matter the circumstances, there's no one else I love to traverse the infinite sky with more. After some polishing I've found my own brilliance, but with you it grows so much stronger.

I found in you what was lost in me, and I'll stay with you as long as you stay bright on me.

Soccer moms and sander scars
Suburban life is strange.
Play dates and in-line skates
Schedules to re-arrange.
Yoga teachers and lay preachers
And those are not a metaphor.
Costco trips and air-kiss lips
Nobody trusts a bachelor.

Coupon savers in SUVs
Never use turn signals.
Driving while chatting hands-free
Wearing golden **** whistles.
Appointments to make daily
With exercise gurus.
Cocktail luncheons for charity
Toddlers wearing tutus.

Traffic jams of cars and vans
Honking at each other.
Double parking on narrow streets
Calling each other mothers.
Starting out fifteen minutes late
As is the usual way.
Somehow never figuring out how
To have an on-time day.

Screeching home a night in time
To throw together a meal.
Watch television with family
And pretend that is all real.
Put the kids to bed right on time
Try to have quality time.
While the other half is half-asleep
From that second glass of wine.

His tanned, stocky fingers cupped a rose,
turning it toward the camera,
and I clicked the shutter.
He hoped only that the rose
should somehow be preserved.
I cared mostly that I might keep
the image of his strong, gentle hand.
Every day, except Sunday,
he gripped hammer and plane and saw and sander,
but here in the back yard,
before the day was gone,
he held a flower,
just so,
to catch the sun's rays,
as if to grant extended light
to this one bit of life,
and to me.

And I, sixty summers later,
repeat his act, feeling
so much less manly
--my own hand being mostly unfamiliar
with the grip of tools or boards.
Still, since comparisons will be made,
when it comes to hopes and cares
as to what gets preserved of light or life,
it seems that little changes.

I.

Your fingers danced on my knees so gracefully.

they knew their stage well,

the had danced there many times before

   but never so freely,

this was the first time we had ever been alone.

II.

There was a band aid on your finger and

you told me about some sander wheel,

or something or the other.

I showed you my scars from a previous job

but we only discussed the scars

that were visible to the eye.

I’m still convinced

you wouldn’t understand

the ones that lay beneath.

III.

The bar lights had a blueish tint;

while we waited for our drinks  

I watched them

gently grace your brow,

you smiled.

You have such a genuine smile,

it always seems to whisper, “come closer,”

even without a spoken word,

IV.

You pulled my hands into yours

and asked why they were always cold.

I thought it was because

most of my time, I spend alone.

So for just one cold handed, blue tinted moment,

I wanted to call someone mine

I kissed you,

and you looked at me

as if you could possibly love me...some day.

V.

As much as try to fight the idea of you,

and I fight it with both fist up,

as if to prevent you from hurting me

before you even try.

I’m starting to notice your absence

and even have come to detest it at times.

Millions of years ago a glacier
-like the pinpoint tip of a paintbrush
in some celestial architect's hand-
carved off the ridges
and peaks
and rough edges
off this valley,
like a frigid finish sander;
leaving sparse patches of
smoothed-out, tiger-striped gneiss
that permeate a background of
grass and scattered boulders.
Picturing the area's native peoples
-humans, deer, rabbits and porcupines-
meander across it is too easy-
but what is even easier is moving across it.
The word "running" doesn't really
fit-
it's more of a fast-motion jig
crossing feet one over the other
and tiptoeing
from rock to rock to rock
five feet at a time
until, at a pause for fresh air,
you realize you've crossed a whole valley
under sun's watchful gaze.

We spent the day here,
just across the border between the man-made
and that which made man,
whooping like madmen
under sun's embrace.
Emerging,
some indeterminate moment later,
burnt,
but enlightened
in the truest sense
of that word.

Anyways,

  Mentally lifting this dark blanket on top.
Going to start working at this non stop.
Only thing troubling me is my anger.
But Im grinding away at this like a sander.
Trying too hard to rhyme.
One day Ill get there,
            
   In due time.

To the wondering,
As we all know I wonder,
I wonder of the wondering,
My light shines bright,
Bright upon a world of wonder,
A place that is the calmer,
As spit the sunny sander the places that I wonder.
And to know that I have a new beginning each day to wonder.
I wonder.

I look rough more often than I feel rough
and yet this morning I feel rougher than a
carpenters sander but look absolutely
fabulous.

Monday?
what a way to end the weekend,
it must be God's idea of a joke.

when I wake up
put on the make up
and check in the rearview
to see you dressed as
Lucretia
I'll know this was a dream.

This is for my mother I couldn't ask for no other
Sorry for the hate I threw know your skin like rubber
Look now it only took, wow, I look down, eight years
If only I'd ate fears there wouldn't be so much hate here
You should know I smoke cigs but hate beer
No alcoholic know I'll frolic if it's a great year
I know you hate dad with ingrained fear
He really ain't bad now it's been about 8 years
Off pharmaceuticals with **** free of seizures
I know that won't please ears but ma please hear
He hates the man he was, for that I love him plus
When we met there was no fuss all love and just
A heart of regret mixed with an attitude of gratitude
former for nearly killing you and I when he battered you
The latter because without him I took right after you
A dapper dude with a knack or two for facts and truth

I already have His forgiveness so now I'm asking you

I know you didn't want me but shouldered the burden
See God had some plans if only you had heard Him
But maybe you did that's why My name so glorious
On the straight plain the bearer of Christ is victorious
That's Kyle Kristopher Moffatt translated in reverse
Yiddish-German-Scottish man slated notorious
An old soul of bold gold to the core he is
Forged by Holy fire one of Yah's Warriors

I've been an adult for twice more than four years
Going on 24 16's when I left you in your tears
I didn't mean no harm ma just wanted life without fear
Of you beating me for thinking me mighty queer
Between slit wrists, hanging, and electrocution
God had already stayed about 14 of my executions
Jew stewed in antisemitism so sought retribution
On the peers that used belt sander to give abuse
That's why I wore war paint to make boars faint
Because they misbehaviour ain't kosher or quaint
They thought me a push over so I sought to push over
The pain that they painted me with into bush corner
Suddenly vision swarms and it's burning warmer
Reconciled the paradox that I was born of
******* dealer and Archaeologist student
Who for my good switched to defence law prudent

I know you didn't want me but shouldered the burden
See God had some plans if only you had heard Him
But maybe you did that's why My name so glorious
On the straight plain the bearer of Christ is victorious
That's Kyle Kristopher Moffatt translated in reverse
Yiddish-German-Scottish man slated notorious
An old soul of bold gold to the core he is
Forged by Holy fire one of Yah's Warriors

I know you told me to never contact you again
But I can't help it if you find this and you listen
Not a single diss in this just love and confirmation
That you put work in this kid by higher conversation
Taught me of a universal world unfurled in university
Expanded my mind left behind thought of you hurting me
See I don't mind I just hope you find peace in these
A reminder you always have a heart's piece in me
If I don't stop I might start weeping feel it seeping
But I got a bit more to say before fleet feet leaving
Central Banking has me thinking society's sinking
War, Poverty, Greed and Drugs are all to be thanking
If you want to know who brings'em; government does
It is the oil in the machine and we are the irrelevant cogs
Numbers and debt slaves they get to behave like dogs
Some kind of commodity to be sold like we bathed logs

They call me Kristopher though I prefer Phiwrit or K-Moff
That Phiwrit bit might not catch on it just came off
The dome top, too many talents know I won't stop
I still intend to repay you even though we don't talk
Too many talents Joanna know I can't and won't stop
I still intend to repay even though we don't talk
Just know for you I won't stop until His Kingdom Come
From where I Am from

Did George Floyd’s life matter?
Did Breonna Taylor’s life matter?
Did Ahmaud Arbery’s life matter?
Did Eric Garner’s life matter?
Did Trayvon Martin’s life matter?
Did Mike Brown’s life matter?
Did Tamir Rice’s life matter?
Did Keith Childress’ life matter?
Did Bettie Jones’ life matter?
Did Philando Castille’s life matter?
Did Michael Noel’s life matter?
Did Jamar Clark’s life matter?
Did Michael Lee Marshall’s life matter?
Did Dominic Hutchinson’s life matter?
Did Junior Prosper’s life matter?
Did Keith McLeod’s life matter?
Did India Kager’s life matter?
Did Felix Kumi’s life matter?
Did Samuel Dubose’s life matter?
Did Darrius Stewart’s life matter?
Did Sandra Bland’s life matter?
Did George Mann’s life matter?
Did Jonathan Sander’s life matter?
Did Victor Laros’s life matter?
Did Spencer McCain’s life matter?
Did Jermaine Benjamin’s life matter?
Did Kris Jackson life matter?
Did Kevin Higgenbotham’s life matter?
Did Amadou Diallo’s life matter?
Did Oscar Grant’s life matter?
Did Calvon Reid’s life matter?
Did William Chapman’s life matter?
Did Walter Scott’s life matter?

All black / All unarmed / All murdered by US Police

Did Dylan Roof’s life matter?
Did Peter Manfredonia’s life matter?
Did Anthony Trifiletti’s life matter?
Did Patrick Crusius’ life matter?
Did James Holmes’ life matter?

All white / All murderers / All arrested peacefully by US Police

Unarmed blacks
Killed by US Police
5x unarmed whites

Black men and boys
Killed by US Police
2.5x white men and boys

This is why we kneel
This is why we march
This is why we protest
This is why we are mad as hell
This is why we are fed-up as well

This is why we riot

Riot is the language of voices unheard

When you respond
“All Lives Matter”
To our “Black Lives Matter”
You’re not listening
You didn’t hear
You don’t care
GTFOH

~ P

My insane eyes are telling me to calm down
I see a fault, it’s always always mine
I have no chill, I’m breaking in my car now
I can’t return to how it was before
I wish I was a month ago or later
Cause it’s right now, the pain is growing still
The tumor grows until it melts my body
As I stand still every time the heat just rise

My flows are grating in the crows
My circumference is hiding
Making fine words are growing in time

“I let the world crush my bare leaf hands
And let the ground dissolve my footsteps
Maybe if things were aligned
I would be standing straight”
(That was the spark of it all. But now)
Grinning laughter kiss my face
So far under the duvet
Grammy has a fit, painters are so lit
Anything is fine

Home I am is number one
And so the crapping starts
My illusion is a ****
And I have no parts

Can I contract love?
Some things are like a disease
And do I have to say please

I cannot try to copy distance
I don’t know how to tell you I feel this
If I shared it with you, would you notice anything?
Would you just say cool and leave and make me shake again?

Sander on the laugh of cure
I know that you’re bored
I wish I could say anything
But what do you want?

Is it me or you
Who does these things that I do
I’m not trying to imitate you
I can’t swear on that
You are the reason I think
Really, on any of these things

Folding chair
Green sweater
No, not that one
Or grey hoodie
With red grungey text
That blurry photo but in higher quality
Where your knee is up there
Chicago
Have you been there?
We could have been in the same room
You are rich
Rich beyond belief
I can imagine it
It’s not unimaginable
I fail to not find it unimaginable
I fail to picture your face crystal clear
Every mental image is from a still photo

My arrangement is gold
This a song that I came from
My direction is old
And I never will learn from
My sedation is gruesome
So I touch everyone
I wish I could be stronger and tell you the truth but
My solution is far away
From my willing cards

My ears are thin and they cannot hear anything
Everything is just a little lie
Nothing is kind and everything is full of crime
That’s too far but I just want to (die?)

My begottens are hybrid game
For the one who will catch my eye
My solution is great pain
For I wanted to try
Such a dangerous game and the wilder I’m smoothing
It’s the worse you see me
When I try to glide
Under you

My arms are a mess of the biggest mistake
My giant illusion is trying to wake
My senses are tingling
It sure doesn’t matter
What I am trying to do
I wish I could just hear your voice once again
But not a recording, something you do for me
Don’t sound like a robot
This is getting too personal
But don’t go away
(What even is this?)

change is hard
change is good
change is natural
change is up there
with death and taxes
as unavoidable things
only children fear change
I've heard
put my head to the sander
not the chopping block
neither is a first choice
but I can stand some pain
for some good change
I think.