there are so many places to hide,

in my home at 17th and South screaming death threats at my roommates laughing diabolically playing  videogames and Jeopardy cooking quinoa stretching canvas the dog going mad frothing lunging  spastic to get the monkeys or the wookies or whatever random commandments we issue forth  drunken while Schlock rampages the backdrop,

at my uncle's row house on 22nd and Wallace with my shoes off freezing skipping class to watch March  Madness unwrapping waxpaper hoagies grimacing with each sip of Cherrywine or creamsicle  soda reading chapters at my leisure,

in the stacks among fiberglass and eternal florescent lima-tiled and echo-prone red-eyed and white-faced  caked with asbestos and headphones exhuming ossified pages from layers of cosmic dust  presiding benevolent,

in University City disguised in nothing but a name infiltrating Penn club soccer getting caught after  scoring yet still invited to the pure ***** joy of hell and heaven house parties of ice luge jungle  juice kegstand coke politic networking,

at Drexel's nightlit astroturf with the Jamaicans rolling blunts on the sidelines playing soccer floating in  slo-mo through billows of purple till the early morning or basketball at Penn against goggle- eyed professors in kneepads and copious sweat,

in the shadow tunnels behind Franklin Field always late night loner overlooking rust belt rails abandoned  to an absent tempo till tomorrow never looking behind me in the fear that someone is there,

at Phillies Stadium on glorious summer Tuesdays for dollar dog night laden with algebra geometry and  physics purposely forgetting to apply ballistics to the majestic arc of a home run or in the frozen  subway steam selling F.U. T.O. t-shirts to Eagles fans gnashing when the Cowboys come to town,

at 17th and Sansom in the morning bounding from Little Pete's scrambled eggs toast and black coffee  studying in the Spring thinking All is Full of Love in my ears leaving fog pollen footprints on the  smoking cement blooming,

at the Shambhala Center with dharma lotus dripping from heels soaking rosewater insides thrumming to the  groan of meditation,

at the Art Museum Greco-fleshed and ponderous counting tourists running the Rocky steps staring into shoji screen tatame teahouses,

at the Lebanese place plunked boldly in Reading Terminal Market buying hummus bumping past the Polish  and Irish on my way to the Amish with their wheelwagons packed with pretzels and honey and  chocolate and tea,

at the motheaten thrift store on North Broad buried under sad accumulations of ramshackle clothing  clowning ridiculous in the dim squinting at coathangers through magnifying glasses and mudflat  leather hoping to salvage something insane,

in the brown catacombed warrens of gutted Subterranea trying unsuccessfully to ignore bearded medicine

men adorned with shaman shell necklaces hawking incense bootlegs and broken Zippos halting conversation to listen pensive to the displacement of air after each train hurtles by,

at 30th Street Station cathedral sitting dwarfed by columns Herculean in their ascent and golden light  thunderclap whirligig wings on high circling the luminous waiting sprawled nascent on stringwood pews,

at the Masonic Temple next to City Hall, pretending to be a tourist all the while hoping scouring for clues in the cryptic grand architect apocrypha to expose global conspiracies,

at the Trocadero Electric Factory TLA Khyber Unitarian Church dungeon breaking my neck to basso  perfecto glitch kick drums with a giant's foot stampeding breakbeat holographic mind-boggled  hole-in-the-skull intonations,

at the Medusa Lounge Tritone Bob and Barbara's Silk City et cetera with a pitcher a pounder of Pabst and a  shot of Jim Beam glowing in the dark at the foosball table disco ball bopstepping to hip hop and  jazz and accordions and piano and vinyl,

in gray Fishtown at Gino's recording rap holding pizza debates on the ethics of sampling anything by  David Axelrod rattling tambourines and smiles at the Russian shopgirl downstairs still chained to  soul record crackles of antiquity spiraling from windows above,

at Sam Doom's on 12th and Spring Garden crafting friendship in greenhouse egg crate foam closets  breaking to scrutinize cinema and celebrate Thanksgiving blessed by holy chef Kronick,

in the company of Emily all over or in Kohn's Antiques salvaging for consanguinity and quirky heirlooms  discussing mortality and cancer and celestial funk chord blues as a cosmological constant and  communism and Cuba over mango brown rice plantains baking oatmeal chocolate chip cookies,

in a Coca Cola truck riding shotgun hot as hell hungover below the raging Kensington El at 6 AM nodding soft to the teamsters' curses the snagglesouled destitute crawling forth poisoned from sheet-metal shanty cardboard box projects this is not desolate,

at the impound lot yet again accusing tow trucks of false pretext paying up sheepish swearing I'll have my  revenge,

in the afterhour streets practicing trashcan kung fu and cinder block shotput shouting sauvage operatic at  tattooed bike messenger tribesmen pitstopped at the food trucks,

in the embrace of those I don't love the names sometimes rush at me drowned and I pray to myself for  asylum,

in the ciphers I host always at least 8 emcee lyric clerics summoning elemental until every pore ruptures  and their eyes erupt furious forever the profound voice of dreadlocked Will still haunting stray  bullet shuffles six years later,

in the caldera of Center City with everyone craning our skulls skyward past the stepped skyscrapers  beaming ear-to-ear welcoming acid sun rain melting maddeningly to reconstitute as concrete  rubber steel glass glowing nymphs,

in Philadelphia where every angle is accounted for and every megawatt careers into every throbbing wall where  Art is a mirror universe for every event ever volleyed through the neurons of History,

in Philadelphia of so many places to hide I am altogether as a funnel cloud frenetic roiling imbuing every corner sanctum sanctorum with jackhammer electromagnetism quivering current realizing stupefied I have failed so utterly wonderful human for in seeking to hide I have found

in Philadelphia

Two fictional characters
walk into a bar

in Malta
( * Marsaxlokk - to be precise ).

"To...be....tooo beee. . ."
stammers Hamlet.

"Oh fer Gawd's sake...two beers!"
J. Alfred Prufrock snaps.

"You really milk that
"To be or not..." thingy."
J.A.P. scolds Hamlet.

"Tsk...tsk!" Hamlet tsk tsks.
( sticking his tongue out ).

Two Cisks are plonked
down before them.

"No...I am not Prince Hamlet or
was meant to be..!"
J.A.P. quotes him self.

"Awww fer Jaysus sake...loooook
just for the fun of it...the gas of it

we swop
texts!"

Hamlet interrupts Prufrock's
protestations.

"Ohhhh....o.....K?"
Prufrock ponders somewhat doubtfully.

And, so:
Hamlet the Dane

( for yea it is indeed he)
dares

(1) to eat a peach (2) wear the bottoms of his white
flannel trousers rolled (3) parts his hair behind even

(4) dares
to aks

the overwhelming question

"( Oh, do not ask, what is it! )"

Oh & (5) gets to hear
( ** ** ** )

"...the mermaids singing...."

Prufrock "Hum...."
kills the king.

Becomes the king.

Beds.
Weds
Ophelia.

" Buzz buzz...come come..go...go!"

"It's a very foreshortened
Hamlet...I know

but - what the heck!

"See..? slurps Hammy
". . . now, that wasn't so bad...was it?"

"Another Cisk?"
"Naw...I'll have a Becks!"

"Jaysus Prufrock now
...what's up?"

"Don't know..."mutters J.A.P.
wearing a frothy beer moustache.

"HURRY UP PLEASE...IT'S TIME!"
roars the barman in Maltese.

"I can connect nothing
with...nothing!"
Prufrock almost sobs.

"Like that time
on Margate sands..."

Hamlet cuts him curtly off.

"Don't even go...there!"

"But I still get that squirmy
...you know...feeling

we are just
fragments of

the imagination of
some *long haired Irish poet

sunning himself by
the waters of

the shimmering waters of
a Sliema hotel pool

...up up in the clouds!

Hamlet sighs.

"Yeah, me too
spooky...innit?"

Hamlet looks behind him
checking for what isn't

there. . .

"Ahhhh well, never mind eh?"

Prufrock attempts an attempt
at being cheerful.

Fails miserably.

"Let us go, then
you and I...

when the evening is spread out
against the sky..."

Like a patient etherised upon a table!
they both sing outta time and outta tune

stumbling one
into the other.

A long hair Irish poet
smiles as he watches them

go.

"Għaġġel fil-għoli...wasal iż-żmien JEKK JOGĦĠBOK!"
the barman roars.

NOTES

Pronounced MAR SA SCHLOCK. Those Maltese Xs being really SHs in disguise.

* Pronounced CHISK but the new barman is obviously new to the language and pronounces it TSK which makes him think that is what our two fictional characters are ordering.

Not to be confused with mobile texting but rather the literary texts of which both of them owe their existence.

* The play bounded in a nutshell as it were.

One Donall Gearld Oliver Denis Dempsey is a good example of this sort.

* The No. 1 song all over Heaven...beating Sparks THE NO. 1 SONG ALL OVER HEAVEN  to the top spot.

** "Għaġġel fil-għoli...wasal iż-żmien JEKK JOGĦĠBOK!" Once again the new Irish barman hasn't got his tonsils around the Maltese lingo and comes out with this terrible mish mash of the typical barman's cry.

She bleeds ‘all tragic steam work blasted mists
‘All hobbled clamped free fall for ‘all seasonal depression slump
She’s ‘all death knell cramp urgency and held back suffering kneeling
on kitchen floors ‘all like boarding school broomsticks lessons
with ‘all that theoretical **** the ***** save the man type
schlock shock rhetoric shtick
so ‘all I’ll be is her savage heretic wagon burner page-turner
on the hot coal back burner ‘all boarded up sealed shut in the walls
until she calls
Expecting me to be 'all combat ready
‘all back with a vengeance
while her thrift store hazard suit groups and droops
‘all over my haphazard dream sliced hang nailed hangover hands
hiding ‘all derelict style while between the sheets confessional
gets voided by social media air raid sirens
bringing me ‘all too close to rocks and crystals
and who ‘all needs another pathetic apathetic
junk punk when
‘all and ‘all
I'd rather die for you
because
I just can't live with myself

Calabash Squash
A Poem by Eclipsing Moon-blood red


entry for a contest...rhythm



Hip- hop jury swapped

Hippity- hoppity sequestered they stop

Bibity- bobity alone on the cobblestone.

falling in- falling over

The balcone wailing, and buckets pailing, and hailing, and

Scaling

The walls and ramparts the cannons were whaling

Moby dicking and schlicking the schlock of the clock… hickory dickery ..where is the Doc?

Blind mice made the move..up one "grandfather  side.

... and

Over the top .

Now wasn’t that a quainty dish to set before the Queens …

in drag



© 2011 Eclipsing Moon-blood red

And leave it to Turturro
To steal the movie again,
A tour-de-force in a single character,
Repeatedly, consistently . . .
Except maybe one time.
"Raging Bull" 1980:
Turturro was "Man at Table,"
Uncredited, of course,
A man of no words,
A role difficult, constraining for any
Would-be Richard Burton,
Some shrew-taming Petruchio,
Over the top & out of a job,
Again.
Ask any director who
Directed in the 1950s and 60s?
"Difficult to handle," says Unanimous,
Auteurs & Schlock Filmmakers,
Alike.
Turturro too, needs special handling,
Or Jesus Quintana will chew up the scenery,
Emilio Lopez will be sneaky-sneaky-sneaky,
Materializing without warning over & over
Again.
Turturro: veteran of 60+ films,
Barton Fink, Miller's Crossing,
Fading ******, The Color of Money,
Do the Right Thing,
O Brother, Where Art Thou?
Turturro TV: Frazier, Monk & Miami Vice.
And others.

Turturro: a Brooklyn boy, Italian,
Roman-Catholic, the son of Katherine,
An amateur jazz singer who worked in a
Navy yard during World War II, &
Nicholas Turturro, a carpenter &
Construction worker who fought as a
Navy sailor on D-Day.
Turturro: attended the State University of
New York at New Paltz, completed his
MFA at the Yale School of Drama.
A life most worthy, capped off with
Amedeo & Diego, his two sons.

So, I'd like to thank The Academy,
In advance yet decades overdue:
A Lifetime Achievement Award, Johnny.
Recognition over the long haul.

There was a day I spilled milk
Atop my head and did not cry
Cheating myself; a bet to bilk
Sun soured and wondered why?
For I had every reason, but not a single sigh

Laughing in my stinking curds
I splashed atop a dimpled rock
Feeling not even slightly absurd
Frolicking in warm milky frock
Just an act; some profound cheesy schlock

Representational of bacterium
Justification for odd immunity
There fermented in midday sun
Not feeling part any community
After all, this land of opportunity

In symbolic essence I did lay
Coagulating a rotten smell
“No poetic license,” one might say
Passer-by exclaiming, “What the hell?”
I allegorical enzyme, thus began to jell

Cling! Cling!
Bling Bling!
Tick Tock! Tick Tock!
Another gimmick poem from the prophet of schlock
Today I even spelt my own name wrong

Sitting under a scaffold on the mean streets
Comes the Smell of ****

Abbud sits and picks his nose behind his mustache on the first UAE space flight, The year is 2020. Cold fear creeps up his spine as he notices Sahib staring at him just as he puts another crusty snot into his mouth. Neither man says a thing but the silent judgment is made. Abbud ponders quietly, questioning himself but also the bizarre stigma as he looks through a porthole at the pacific ocean below.

Tell someone you love them today because it feels good
But you know what else feels almost as good
Hate

Gruber Classitanius peers down the path of the monkeys, the bodies lay strewn about penetrated in every orifice by the dreaded ****** spider monkeys. He remembers what the profit sphinx told him and focuses on his Iphone Shazam application, just as instructed he clears his thoughts of all else but the Shazam logo for this is the only way to avoid **** death. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the supple upper thigh of one of the **** monkeys unknowing victims and it brings him back to a night before where he lay with a women he had never met but upon falling on the bed beside her knew that he must be in love, his spine tingles with a shiver of emotion, but the pleasure soon turns to fear and he jerks his thoughts back to the Shazam icon just as the first spider monkey ***** penetrates his left eye socket skull ******* him to death like all the others.

Galumphing along the road stands the son of the jabberwocky slayer
In Psychedelic dreams of Gods speaking without words
On the brink of the next moment I forgot what I was saying
And just decided to write whatever I wanted
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaasdfghjkl

Burning fire death curdling scream because I’m back from the dead *******. Anger is an energy that I cannot ignore.
When I am worn down to a nub it is the soul seed,
Which I can hold onto,
My psychic anchor in my hour of need.
The moment when you have broken through to the other side
And you explode in a thousand fiery shards.
The collapse is imminent.
There is no avoiding the finale.

I washed my hair today with three in one body wash, shampoo, and conditioner.

It has come time for someone to say the facts in blunt and bold terms.
A Cartesian scaling of reality
There are no facts

In a society founded on genocide and warped by decadence,
I find no solace in bitter resentment.

Thriving in ennui, when the real demons come about
I parse together bits of my consciousness in a frantic search of clarity.
No solace,
And I have become the neurotic eye of the mid mind watch dog.
Sailing into Armageddon for want of heroic end,
Plastered to the seat back with sweat.

The carefully constructed outer shell of my being disintegrated in front of me in a mesh of color and light, and they said there is no god.
Enter the Thing

In the desert ****** up the *** by a sordid English poet, religion finds all the seekers, otherwise its madness.
And without truth, Its just a ride, we
play the game, for it is the only thing that we
really have—As  I begin to calm down, two months later,
I realize the folly of my actions.—Actually, **** that nonsense, folly is a lie,
there only Is.

Is there evil in truth? truth in evil?
And is evil not subjective?
For the fathers made the call.
Doth thou do what thou hath
For truth, subjective as well, is an infinite path,
Gödel’s law.

I write with groomed fingernails on a keyboard of obsidian-blocked letters and cadmium laced circuitry.

At our core we are neither inherently evil nor good,
Intelligent or stupid,
Narcissistic, altruistic.
life is Never simple. ‘No secret ingredient’
And pity the swine who clumber over the word nor

If you think you have found the answer to anything, especially in real life, and especially if you can write that answer down in a sentence, you’re Dead Wrong.

So what is there? You think I don’t know where this is going?

Lines written with acid and syrup tapped deep
Is there logic in reason? You know, the what’chamacall
Aren’t we all
Dominated by utopian views
of manifest destiny; the End All be All.

And so what of the fall; the universe that cares not?
No matter how many mushrooms I take,
Reality Still Exists. Then, I almost forgot

And This Beacon of Hope,
Will it save us?
Will we win?
Is there a win?

Where is the end Dark lord of the nether?
Does begging this question get me closer to the truth?
Does it even get me closer to explaining what I mean?
The man selling purses on the corner, patent leather
I cry out to you! For a soul’s desperate answer

But **** that defeatist ******* also, this journey must come to its bitter bite.
And flight from the truth is cowardice divine.

“What reason is there to believe that humanity will not overcome the next world crisis? There is no reason to believe that it won’t. If the universe is infinite isn’t every point the center? Why else does reason even exist, why else do we see ourselves as the masters of the universe?”-Bill Hicks

Here is the closest I have come to any conclusions ever in this Painfully Obvious vision

The universe is chaos,
Our soul is order.

We draw the ductile copper wire through chaotic blackness.
This is our being, it is our tool, take that as you will.
A fiber of a thread on the ocean floor vs. the divine sepulcher

I have lived my life bucking everything that didn’t come from myself, but in vain
Because even these are chains.
I am my own slave master.

In the depths of true evil is the darkest knowledge
Is morality but a thin mask? Fear and Weakness
Is there any difference? Dawn on the killing fields
Dew on the earlobe of a dead man
Drips off and drowns an ant

Back on my so-called Conclusions.
I cannot say I still hold any of them
Even though I typed that sentence not thirty seconds ago.
That man who drew conclusion is now a stranger in the past.
There are no conclusions to draw.

Sometimes I wish I could **** without mercy, if only to know I am really free. Sometimes I wish for suffering, if only to give me some obvious direction. Sometimes I wish for death, if only to clear my skull of all these pesky thoughts.

On the train
A tunnel under New York,
The unseen interlocking teeth
The Filthy steel grating
Narrow shafts of brilliant day shown through
Illuminate the works of unknown artists
Cartoonish letters hastily scrawled and placed
Directly in the light
The only light
Of the tunnel of the New York train
There it passes, and another and another
Each precisely placed
In the thick blackness laced
With light
For your viewing pleasure

And So Spake Urgnd Lichmae The Prophet of anarchic Tremor, Schlock and Paradox. Of the author nothing is known or will be known.

Gynecology appeals to the rooting instinct and not just among pigs,
apartment-dwellers too crave the spotlight especially in cheap digs
A tree puts strength in its cambium membrane, seeds, bark & twigs
whilst outgrowing the imperilment of remaining grounded as sprigs
It was not long before the Rolling Stones were being paid for gigs,
in the day when greasy Guineas plugged sheenies & cultivated figs,
decades before sainted negroes thrived as reactionary brillos & nigs
when a schweinehund on par with Club of Rome's lard-*** Al Gore
was realistic enough to accept his natural vocation as a male *****
even though no Avon salve could rescue him from being still sore,
he collected for prostitutional services that there existed no bill for,
while at Sea World Shamu can't fit through a pinniped or seal door,
as whale flesh ain't no antidote for pill-heads on America's pill tour
Keep whacking the side of your head to hammer out doubt till sure
you become of religious piety while acting out a radio-active story
that destroys tumors and fecundity while rewarding war-won glory,
for critical menticide administered to each Margaret Thatcher Tory,
to render brains slack so that each id's reduced to a formless slurry,
and made denser & dumber than the dumb-*** mind of Ann Curry,
who sits around picking fleas off her pet rats calmly with no worry
like a pederast whose name is Marion but likes to be called Murray
because of thickset hair that was as curly as Bill Clinton's was furry
it made Hillary's perverse predilection into a ****-emergency hurry
as she faced extortion rackets entailing mucho homosexy potpourri
It's I.T.T., A.T. & T., F.P. & L. and A. & P. in lieu of slave-holder
In a demi-godly role of being everyplace looking over my shoulder
Like advice taken to heart by a ***** the tenth time you told her
On the occasion of the hundredth time that a ****** **** sold her
Put down that rifle and also that cup as there are doggedly two ratty
trees of wood: wood I stole & wood I shoplifted as doggy eats pup
Congratulations *******, you won the Nobel prize for shutting up
Move from a hovel & put down that shovel as there are 2 unkindly
kinds of wood: stolen & discounted as my rabid ***** eats her pup
****** Mary Jane Christmas to Quakers winning gifts for rutting up
Return my shovel and **** a guppy as there are 2 hunks of wood:
wood I stole & wood shoplifted as a dog ***** eats a hungry puppy
Cheers cancer-ridden surgeon, here's the Shaw prize for cutting up
The tall first wife, who was fleet of feet, was the easiest to book for
she preferred rat tail over bat wing and won as a dream to cook for
she hid herself very obviously therefore she wasn't hard to look for
her manifold athletic talents made her the leanest witch to hook for
Give me your hirsute/textile/hombre love you lovely hairy rag man,
with your pointy nose, unlimbered leg & warts from Larry Hagman
who from the horse's mountable side snuck up like an airy stag ram
Don't take what little's left via state Santa Christmas merry bag ban
Let's dress like women in debt at the oldest Chuck Berry drag stand
My happiness is easily seen in blood-letting cirques as corpuscular
while my rippling backwards frontage is of a physique so muscular
that it is known by fat aunt Joan as socked-in and highly avuncular
In icy Florida I pine for Klondike my favorite Alaskan lesbian lover
who, in our gay igloo, resembled that big oily ****** Danny Glover
whose **** buddy Mel Gibson made him half less pockless gaining
☹a little more of plenty above Kenai's northern-lit blinding darkness,
and punctuated by those empty promises of ****-driving starkness
that were dogged by monster sightings quite common to Loch Ness
where **** Welshmen smoke Scottish-spiced cigarillos smockless
Fear not as chronically-starved people are traditionally not so tough
so feed the hungry & while they are eating steal their bags and stuff
as unarmed Cymry won't do more than storm off in a Goidelic huff,
akin to a Tom Jones hissy fit of ***-wriggling dancing and gay fluff
This normal man wonders: How much public ******* is enough?
Pushing Fukushima scenarios beyond the point of a no-return bluff
and extraneous of a federal Continuity of Government powder puff
while parked on a decrepitly-reliable-ever-burgeoning-lard-*** duff
white men, like coal miners, mine mineable depths of Filipina ****
gynecologically like the average gynecology enthusiast off the cuff,
rejecting Bicol pathogenetic carpet chaw to dip Copenhagen *****,
a sprinkling 'tween lip & gum proves that no slanted ****'s too tuff
A trans-orbital lobotomy's necessitated when plants are root-bound,
Hello Addisonian crisis dysfunction when adrenal glands are found
insufficient when production of adrenaline is diagnosed as unsound
Mormons note the absent look of foremen in the Book of Mormon
and an absence of the Book of Mormon in the outlook of foremen
You hid it 'cause I can't find it every elsewhere a package for string
this catastrophe that threatens tragedy above the tryst below a fling
With cords knotted tightly around something tumorous I won't sing
It is the chlorine that cancels detergent in that electric washer thing
beneath cellar steps that David Niven's wife fell down while hiding
I lost her you found her, it's a dollar for riding plus a fee for finding
all broads blinded to inequity and to chick Nazis' unguided guiding
Oh Lord with such ease the slippery have slid into slipshod sliding!
The frailties of free men're exploited by N.S.A.'s jingoistic deriding
General Ike exposed the military-industrial-congressional complex
which strikes against the citizenry by venomous rattle snake reflex
faster than a dope-crazy Marilyn Monroe could reach for a Kleenex
thru curvatures in a third-dimensional, spatially-pornographic helix
that approximated the Mexi-milkers of actriz: la doña María Félix
rutting elephants in musth must respect advisory: kneel-harm-****,
to honor the moon-hoaxing memory of chronic liar Neil Armstrong
as obviously for **** Rosie O'Donnell her gay meal alarm's wrong
Johns familiarized themselves with Lillian Russell by buyin' ** Lil
as masochists meet masochistic needs with movies of Ryan O'Neal
Sadists satiate sadistic surges sharing sermons sold Séamus Ó Néill
& beheld-redemptive pleasures for patrons of free mass soul appeal
I'm nailed in my sub-par carpentry by all do-gooders of the nail ban
to the point where I'm willing to mail my big sister to the mail man
who's part & parcel of a mail-fraud plot & brother's can't-fail plan
Escaped & uncaught I will be no prison monkey's cell-mate-jail-fan
'Cause shorts clothe Richard Simmons' lard *** he has a pale can as
oil-from-rock Daniel's been given the pétrole epithet Ol' Shale Dan
Latino block & cinder create distortive Hispano-Américano rubble
'cause stirring up spics & greasy wetbacks invites N.C.L.R. trouble
Stand back anti-pope as I am about to burst your pederastic bubble!
Your egg-shell-thick pate's no match for a black jack as this club'll
smash its way thru cardinals, reverends, ministers, priests & dukes
to make cream taste like ***** and turn cake into what a dog pukes
Under U.S./Euro socialism there'll be no guy who's a young codger
and popular forenames will be banned including Preston and Roger
Trans-national entities whip horse dung into curdled cottage cheese
while denying rescue inhalers to asthmatics enjoying a bad wheeze
so as to avail publicly purpled aureolae of ready women who tease
Now is the time to release the promised South American killer bees
as the hour's passed to exact vengeance for a beheaded Robert Lees
Mafiosos contract that Joseph Valachi-types be capped at the knees
then hanged by their what's-her-names from il duce poles and trees
in such a fashion that'll tighten the ropes by cough, belch or sneeze
Long legs, wrong eggs, strong pegs, King Kong begs with a song of kegs
Let us dog dealers of wieners & corporate schemers: those 2-bit reamers
extend a left leg into the sacred space of my right one for time remaining
It's easy to harp on topics commiserate with crap profitably entertaining
A man who courts dogs & a court manned by dogs quibbles over kibble
Dogs devoid of canine teeth are not as happy to gnaw and to nibble
The Arc of the Covenant bestowed ancient promises metaphysical
shedding cockroach-scattering illumination that set courses tragical
on a populace & citizenry that were more attuned to an era magical
Before Zionistic Elders prepared an Order within cabals strategical
Beneath plum sunsets & catchy maladies that deafened folks lyrical
“Turn me on dead man” the Beatles backwardly warbled mystically
as the means and the method to sexcite vampresses gynecologically
For all shoulder-locked movements sway men anthropomorphically
Let us seek bi-lesbians who fear concerted opposition diametrically
as their prized packages remain barren, as they spawn ineffectually
Sappho's ovarian host pouch is barren as ***** meld ineffectually
as Western, Fallopian-tubed freakazoids are ****-probed habitually
Sapphic ovarian balloons shrink when hens ******* reciprocally
On Pearl Harbor Loch a false flag blackened Mister Moto's beacon
by shadowy, white manipulators under a U.S. sinister, proto-deacon
who, as a cousin-marrying-pipe-******* *******, emulated Lincoln,
the war-loving queer who went above & beyond his task to weaken
the will of sovereign states to sustain free-market economic health,
by exacting confiscatory taxes resulting in punishing capital wealth
The Beatles were creatures of M.K. Ultra's institution at Tavistock,
lost to a shocking future as shown by Alvin Toffler in Future Shock
whereas nothing can help us from taking an epidemiological knock
by Mao a la Trotsky, a la starvation wages via phony-baloney stock
in the image of Pol *** a la Lenin contrary to righteous John Locke
Our fused-egg brothers gestate together, flying as a migratory flock
dolled up in vestry wardrobe: papal bikini brassier, ******* & frock
awaiting George Orwell's 1984 English socialism known as Ingsoc
X number of years before Nancy Kwan wed ski champ Peter Pock,
& after Bob Ripley's Oriental/Occidental miscegenation ****** talk
as it was curlier than was Nimoy while he portrayed Vulcan Spock,
whose sweetness was unrehearsed, unrestrained & of a sickly mock
once taken, out of time as taken twice daily on any ol' broken clock
flesh stripped & exploited as the flightless relic of Earth's great auk
enjoying the laze of Sunday oblivious to extinct Darwinian schlock
as chastised love is Leonard Nimoy-pitiable with chastity-belt lock
Upon a Massachusettsian shore puritans purified Plymouth's Rock!
Forever amounts to nothing in betrayal of Heinlein's empathic grok
Back off quack as I'll **** the next 1 of you applying scalpel to ****
as a dad must regarding neo-Kantian, fatherless-**** Johann Bach
Deep in hell's bowels fricassees Jew Elizabeth/***-to-Death Taylor
who did every Joe Nobody from Captain Crunch to Norman Mailer
A harlot ***** was she from 10 niggerly toes to scary mulatto tone
as hellishly deep in Liz's brain was a splinter of hamster wish bone
& her ***-end was broad from fat foods Safeway to her would loan
Beneath her 3rd world-chiding heft Larry F's lawn chairs did groan
as this princess of whales never said no to hog jowls and corn pone
which made an interesting cut-out to novices of the porpoise prone
There won't be another Liz till Rockefeller perfects a Warner clone
with the aid of sewing machines to hem-stitch hems that need sewn
& a positronic brain stem to achieve mortality previously unknown
since Alex Bell pilfered **** inventor Antonio Meucci's telephone
Truth is light that Illuminists keep shadowed, darkened & unshown
for Hank & Phoebe Snow and Johnny Winter who would not atone
Thomas Edison stole or bought the patents to ingenious inventions
that he was more than happy to claim as his brilliant contributions
to the wealth & state of inquisitive Mankind's Earthen conventions,
also he took credit for Biblical allusions to immaculate conceptions
Which Bible books Tom Edison wrote no G.E. employee mentions
as stealing, purloining and commandeering were his 3 predilections
True historians know well charlatan Edison's dastardly elaborations
To pinch a hairy, chapped man is wrong as it puts him in more pain
For century-old Harry Chapman Pincher pinching made him insane
His unholy joy was to lay prone with mouth open to catch acid rain
& then hop into the commode to affect a toilet-related ankle sprain,
not too unlike Richard called **** & Jean who liked the name Jane
whose corpulence demands a piano coffin burial with crawler crane
Formaldehyde replaced 7 quarts of blood that went down a drain as
the proverb fits: when there's nothing to lose there's nothing to gain
Alan Ladd snuffed himself over a self-destructive hatred for Shane
and because Sue Carol preferred men of height Ladd couldn't attain
without elevator shoes & leading-lady actresses walking in ditches,
the love-life that humbles a netted shrimp into paralytic twitches as
Alan often got nothing from Brentwood ****** & witches because
****** pimps don't scrape **** off them Hollywood swanky *******
Tragically it's true that God's in the details & Satan's in the glitches
when Hippocratic Oath-denying doctors say don't bandage stitches,
it promotes infection needing treatment that add to a quack's riches
Apply no anti-bacterial salve unless your unbandaged wound itches
Amerika will be a Marxian paradise after we guillotine the snitches
harvest their organs, cremate & consign their ashes to crude niches
Give me, give me, give me, I can subsist not on a mere, single bean
Hey cheapo, get off your greasy ***, take me to Dairy Queen as my
**** is shaved, bra's padded & all kinks are relaxed by Afro Sheen
Western ***** are fattened for slaughter as sloped slants grow lean,
for lack of appendix, tonsils, adenoids, warts, piles, moles & spleen
Refugees flee what's so repressively dangerous that it's forever fled
The bloodied blood biz passes pathogens to bleeders bloodily bled
It is a dreadful situation that ****** folks find difficult not to dread
A gent is obliged to face conflict face first short of living in a shed,
plying the rough trade, rough-necking with ******* or playing dead
When my cruddy teeth are encrusted I brush the crud off with Crest
while working drainward with this golden cake of soap called Zest
Like a woman on public assistance I refuse to let my choppers rest
There was a time when talk of quiz was a precursor to an Iowa test
My basic skills are determinedly under-cutting my housewife guest
whose stems run north to her malignant tissue free mammae breast
In movies shooting orphans with high-powered rifles is done in jest
'cause in Amerika making ammunition is what wage-slaves do best
When I'm not utilizing forks for recreational after-meal dog-jabbin'
I am staking out hog farms for the planning of gainful hog-nabbin'
or making log-planing modifications on my pine-logged log cabin,
before crossing teamster picket lines for wage-earning job scabbin,'
I take pains to avoid being skinned in a Jimmy Hoffa mob stabbin'
A thousand Confucian truths drive my happy dreams to nightmares
as bi-****** pass out on Calexico-Mexicali-low-calorie light beers
I haven't the moxie to skate through hydrants of fate terminological
as those 78 crumb-bums behind T.V. “comedies” wax scatological
Ernie killed Chip & Robby to stamp his father a cipher biological
He hadn't room for women for production smacking gynecological
The last time he looked skyward his thoughts weren't cosmological
S.O.B. Ernest cursed routinely at arthritis diagnosed gerontological
He gives not a harlot's hello for innumerable faults anthropological
nor to lend his energies to scopes that abuse harmonics hormonical
as he stumblingly falls prey to meanderings sickishly trophological
Lord of Hostesses salvage carcass mine from insults cancrological
Redeem me in sudden form humanoid of activities pathogenetical
We mourn in Gettysburg's city as unrepentant lesbians on probation
Defying errors inflicted upon soldiers who forsook proper vocation
Anti-poping Argentine Francis as he's ****** to Satan's invocation
It remains the best course to abide by stellar laws of spatial rotation
Whether one's nationality is Romanian, Finnish, British or Croatian
Lost people will eat food outside their region &

Chest up, palms back. Set
Pose. Reset.
Painted amongst clouds -
To prove it.

A summit awaits. We
Tell ourselves whilst fixed
Fast on phones. Hold on,
Set. Pose.

Reset.
Continuing on, through silent
Pain, undistressed. Taking in - like the rest
****, schlock and schtum.

Reaching up. Holding on. Feet slip
Beneath
Loose ground
Heavily worn, trodden down.

Grip failing. Boots torn.
Gripping tighter.
Hanging now.
Reset.

Pose.
Set.
Point. Click. Check.
Reset.

Continue on like before.
Laugh off the failings and forlorn.
Make choices to which them will warm.
Set.  Pose.  Reset. Time and time again.

Back down we go.

You hid it 'cause I can't find it every elsewhere a package for string
this catastrophe that threatens tragedy above the tryst below a fling
With cords knotted tightly around something tumorous I won't sing
It is the chlorine that cancels detergent in that electric washer thing
beneath cellar steps that David Niven's wife fell down while hiding
I lost her you found her, it's a dollar for riding plus a fee for finding
all broads blinded to inequity and to chick Nazis' unguided guiding
Oh Lord with such ease the slippery have slid into slipshod sliding!
The frailties of free men're exploited by N.S.A.'s jingoistic deriding
General Ike exposed the military-industrial-congressional complex
which strikes against the citizenry by venomous rattle snake reflex
faster than a dope-crazy Marilyn Monroe could reach for a Kleenex
thru curvatures in a third-dimensional, spatially-pornographic helix
that approximated the Mexi-milkers of actriz: la doña María Félix
rutting elephants in musth must respect advisory: kneel-harm-****,
to honor the moon-hoaxing memory of chronic liar Neil Armstrong
as obviously for **** Rosie O'Donnell her gay meal alarm's wrong
Johns familiarized themselves with Lillian Russell by buyin' ** Lil
as masochists meet masochistic needs with movies of Ryan O'Neal
Sadists satiate sadistic surges sharing sermons sold Séamus Ó Néill
& beheld-redemptive pleasures for patrons of free mass soul appeal
I'm nailed in my sub-par carpentry by all do-gooders of the nail ban
to the point where I'm willing to mail my big sister to the mail man
who's part & parcel of a mail-fraud plot & brother's can't-fail plan
Escaped & uncaught I will be no prison monkey's cell-mate-jail-fan
'Cause shorts clothe Richard Simmons' lard *** he has a pale can as
oil-from-rock Daniel's been given the pétrole epithet Ol' Shale Dan
Latino block & cinder create distortive Hispano-Américano rubble
'cause stirring up spics & greasy wetbacks invites N.C.L.R. trouble
Stand back anti-pope as I am about to burst your pederastic bubble!
Your egg-shell-thick pate's no match for a black jack as this club'll
smash its way thru cardinals, reverends, ministers, priests & dukes
to make cream taste like ***** and turn cake into what a dog pukes
Under U.S./Euro socialism there'll be no guy who's a young codger
and popular forenames will be banned including Preston and Roger
Trans-national entities whip horse dung into curdled cottage cheese
while denying rescue inhalers to asthmatics enjoying a bad wheeze
so as to avail publicly purpled aureolae of ready women who tease
Now is the time to release the promised South American killer bees
as the hour's passed to exact vengeance for a beheaded Robert Lees
Mafiosos contract that Joseph Valachi-types be capped at the knees
then hanged by their what's-her-names from il duce poles and trees
in such a fashion that'll tighten the ropes by cough, belch or sneeze
Long legs, wrong eggs, strong pegs, King Kong begs with a song of kegs
Let us dog dealers of wieners & corporate schemers: those 2-bit reamers
extend a left leg into the sacred space of my right one for time remaining
It's easy to harp on topics commiserate with crap profitably entertaining
A man who courts dogs & a court manned by dogs quibbles over kibble
Dogs devoid of canine teeth are not as happy to gnaw and to nibble
The Arc of the Covenant bestowed ancient promises metaphysical
shedding cockroach-scattering illumination that set courses tragical
on a populace & citizenry that were more attuned to an era magical
Before Zionistic Elders prepared an Order within cabals strategical
Beneath plum sunsets & catchy maladies that deafened folks lyrical
“Turn me on dead man” the Beatles backwardly warbled mystically
as the means and the method to sexcite vampresses gynecologically
For all shoulder-locked movements sway men anthropomorphically
Let us seek bi-lesbians who fear concerted opposition diametrically
as their prized packages remain barren, as they spawn ineffectually
Sappho's ovarian host pouch is barren as ***** meld ineffectually
as Western, Fallopian-tubed freakazoids are ****-probed habitually
Sapphic ovarian balloons shrink when hens ******* reciprocally
On Pearl Harbor Loch a false flag blackened Mister Moto's beacon
by shadowy, white manipulators under a U.S. sinister, proto-deacon
who, as a cousin-marrying-pipe-******* *******, emulated Lincoln,
the war-loving queer who went above & beyond his task to weaken
the will of sovereign states to sustain free-market economic health,
by exacting confiscatory taxes resulting in punishing capital wealth
The Beatles were creatures of M.K. Ultra's institution at Tavistock,
groomed as constructs to transmogrify youth into an immoral block
lost to a shocking future as shown by Alvin Toffler in Future Shock
whereas nothing can help us from taking an epidemiological knock
by Mao a la Trotsky, a la starvation wages via phony-baloney stock
in the image of Pol *** a la Lenin contrary to righteous John Locke
Our fused-egg brothers gestate together, flying as a migratory flock
dolled up in vestry wardrobe: papal bikini brassier, ******* & frock
awaiting George Orwell's 1984 English socialism known as Ingsoc
X number of years before Nancy Kwan wed ski champ Peter Pock,
& after Bob Ripley's Oriental/Occidental miscegenation ****** talk
as it was curlier than was Nimoy while he portrayed Vulcan Spock,
whose sweetness was unrehearsed, unrestrained & of a sickly mock
once taken, out of time as taken twice daily on any ol' broken clock
flesh stripped & exploited as the flightless relic of Earth's great auk
enjoying the laze of Sunday oblivious to extinct Darwinian schlock
as chastised love is Leonard Nimoy-pitiable with chastity-belt lock
Upon a Massachusettsian shore puritans purified Plymouth's Rock!
Forever amounts to nothing in betrayal of Heinlein's empathic grok
Back off quack as I'll **** the next 1 of you applying scalpel to ****
as a dad must regarding neo-Kantian, fatherless-**** Johann Bach
Deep in hell's bowels fricassees Jew Elizabeth/***-to-Death Taylor
who did every Joe Nobody from Captain Crunch to Norman Mailer
A harlot ***** was she from 10 niggerly toes to scary mulatto tone
as hellishly deep in Liz's brain was a splinter of hamster wish bone
& her ***-end was broad from fat foods Safeway to her would loan
Beneath her 3rd world-chiding heft Larry F's lawn chairs did groan
as this princess of whales never said no to hog jowls and corn pone
which made an interesting cut-out to novices of the porpoise prone
There won't be another Liz till Rockefeller perfects a Warner clone
with the aid of sewing machines to hem-stitch hems that need sewn
& a positronic brain stem to achieve mortality previously unknown
since Alex Bell pilfered **** inventor Antonio Meucci's telephone
Truth is light that Illuminists keep shadowed, darkened & unshown
for Hank & Phoebe Snow and Johnny Winter who would not atone
Thomas Edison stole or bought the patents to ingenious inventions
that he was more than happy to claim as his brilliant contributions
to the wealth & state of inquisitive Mankind's Earthen conventions,
also he took credit for Biblical allusions to immaculate conceptions
Which Bible books Tom Edison wrote no G.E. employee mentions
as stealing, purloining and commandeering were his 3 predilections
True historians know well charlatan Edison's dastardly elaborations
To pinch a hairy, chapped man is wrong as it puts him in more pain
For century-old Harry Chapman Pincher pinching made him insane
His unholy joy was to lay prone with mouth open to catch acid rain
& then hop into the commode to affect a toilet-related ankle sprain,
not too unlike Richard called **** & Jean who liked the name Jane
whose corpulence demands a piano coffin burial with crawler crane
Formaldehyde replaced 7 quarts of blood that went down a drain as
the proverb fits: when there's nothing to lose there's nothing to gain
Alan Ladd snuffed himself over a self-destructive hatred for Shane
and because Sue Carol preferred men of height Ladd couldn't attain
without elevator shoes & leading-lady actresses walking in ditches,
the love-life that humbles a netted shrimp into paralytic twitches as
Alan often got nothing from Brentwood ****** & witches because
****** pimps don't scrape **** off them Hollywood swanky *******
Tragically it's true that God's in the details & Satan's in the glitches
when Hippocratic Oath-denying doctors say don't bandage stitches,
it promotes infection needing treatment that add to a quack's riches
Apply no anti-bacterial salve unless your unbandaged wound itches
Amerika will be a Marxian paradise after we guillotine the snitches
harvest their organs, cremate & consign their ashes to crude niches
Give me, give me, give me, I can subsist not on a mere, single bean
Hey cheapo, get off your greasy ***, take me to Dairy Queen as my
**** is shaved, bra's padded & all kinks are relaxed by Afro Sheen
Western ***** are fattened for slaughter as sloped slants grow lean,
for lack of appendix, tonsils, adenoids, warts, piles, moles & spleen
Refugees flee what's so repressively dangerous that it's forever fled
The bloodied blood biz passes pathogens to bleeders bloodily bled
It is a dreadful situation that ****** folks find difficult not to dread
A gent is obliged to face conflict face first short of living in a shed,
plying the rough trade, rough-necking with ******* or playing dead
When my cruddy teeth are encrusted I brush the crud off with Crest
while working drainward with this golden cake of soap called Zest
Like a woman on public assistance I refuse to let my choppers rest
There was a time when talk of quiz was a precursor to an Iowa test
My basic skills are determinedly under-cutting my housewife guest
whose stems run north to her malignant tissue free mammae breast
In movies shooting orphans with high-powered rifles is done in jest
'cause in Amerika making ammunition is what wage-slaves do best
When I'm not utilizing forks for recreational after-meal dog-jabbin'
I am staking out hog farms for the planning of gainful hog-nabbin'
or making log-planing modifications on my pine-logged log cabin,
before crossing teamster picket lines for wage-earning job scabbin,'
I take pains to avoid being skinned in a Jimmy Hoffa mob stabbin'
A thousand Confucian truths drive my happy dreams to nightmares
as bi-****** pass out on Calexico-Mexicali-low-calorie light beers
I haven't the moxie to skate through hydrants of fate terminological
as those 78 crumb-bums behind T.V. “comedies” wax scatological
Ernie killed Chip & Robby to stamp his father a cipher biological
He hadn't room for women for production smacking gynecological
The last time he looked skyward his thoughts weren't cosmological
S.O.B. Ernest cursed routinely at arthritis diagnosed gerontological
He gives not a harlot's hello for innumerable faults anthropological
nor to lend his energies to scopes that abuse harmonics hormonical
as he stumblingly falls prey to meanderings sickishly trophological
Lord of Hostesses salvage carcass mine from insults cancrological
Redeem me in sudden form humanoid of activities pathogenetical
We mourn in Gettysburg's city as unrepentant lesbians on probation
Defying errors inflicted upon soldiers who forsook proper vocation
Anti-poping Argentine Francis as he's ****** to Satan's invocation
It remains the best course to abide by stellar laws of spatial rotation
Whether one's nationality is Romanian, Finnish, British or Croatian
Lost people will eat food outside their region & of course: location
They'll surely theorize on arcana that's weakly deemed postulation
Worshiping Sunday is as heathenish as a Roman Catholic sunburst
Be better, be worse, be it ham fatted on toast or mayo in liverwurst
F.E.M.A.'s big plan to ****** 200 million citizens is planned first
Our fate is the guillotine & Chinese torture for we who are cursed
Beneath a deluge of a radioactive Pacific California'll be immersed
as Fukushima's boiling cooling towers are centrally timed to burst
Save it untainted as radiological-free water is better to slake thirst
For it's less desirable to be formula bottle-fed than it is to be nursed
January 14, 1957 : 57 years ago today Humphrey Bogart died at 57
His engine has stopped, his gas pedal is capable of no more revvin'

offered, husbanded, and collected
when winning solitaire
Nothing beats that exaltant rush of adrenaline
watching the computer generated cards
automatically routed
to their respective suite (spot)
(after they get turned face value up)
generates countenance to evince a grin.

This heart felt diamond in the rough
gamboling ace of a man
learned to call a ***** a *****
soon after joining the culture club.

Within an alternate universe
another Matthew Scott Harris
destiny manifested beckoned uber lyft,
his militant doppelganger
(created entirely of antimatter
since birth of universe)
decked out in camouflage fatigues,
dead set on collision course
to annihilate each other
if and/or when we inevitably meet.

No place exists for yours truly
to run and hide
especially hermetically sealing
(while waxing poetic) himself
with booking selfsame mortal
within a read (reed) out hideaway,
hence impossible mission
to ward off sealed fate

lest (markedly) both of us
(even if reaching out
to bridge reconciliation)
blown to smithereens
methinks I and mine nemesis
would be wiped out
(cue the Surfaris song titled wipe out)
as if Thanos snapped.

The aforementioned scenario
far more horrifying than
livingsocial within human zoo
where **** sapiens primates,
an aggregate of many
a cruel genealogical yahoo
outliers rowdy unlearned without xue,
an essential constituent
of the body electric kool aid acid test
******* who spout colorful retorts
analogous to up the *****,

but much more explicit,
therefore audiological
viewer discretion advised
unless one feels confident
to cast a magic spell using voodoo
ideally invoking debilitating, horrifying,
lustrating newt trill eye zing
permanent state of danger
or threat accursed
trumpeting lout can never undo
especially when joker is wild

whereat apparatus tricked out
fastening pollexes courtesy thumbscrews
perchance re-evaluating my person
when crafting image
conveying torturous schlock
after ye did pleasantly review
other writings of mine that did skews
toward humanitarian connectedness
painstakingly minding my peas and queues
wracking my brain
regarding creativity to peruse.

Forest, I lay me down to rest
upon bed of moss.

Eternal sleep immediately overtakes me
lichen kenning myself
as Rip Van Winkle
except being repurposed
as  oldest living species.

With an estimated age of 8,600 years,
Rhizocarpon geographicum,
also referred to as the Map lichen,
is the planet's oldest lichen.

Said complex life forms
witness symbiotic partnership
of two separate organisms,
a fungus and an alga
to equinoctial metaphor
at which the sun crosses
the celestial equator,
when day and night  
approximately equal length
(about September 22 and March 20).

When evening doth fall
'pon summers’ end,
a hint of splendor
bequeathed arose
firmament changed scenery
(this soon third equinox act
since new year) bellows
basses loaded and blasted
in sync with
pyrotechnic pizzazz,
while electric light orchestras
suites scored for cellos,
thus quiet riot madrigal
of multitudinous notes swirl
from bronzed leaf like fellows
dancing elliptically forsooth
greeting mother earth
with characteristic rills
brawny sons and daughters
harvest September hellos
before dawn's early light mellows.

Against backdrop sensational war
doth mother nature wage,
how peachy keen,
and grand to be seated
at plum lined
tree center stage
to behold colorful
capering downward
spiraling threnody
quintessential silent rage
chapter three  
nature alluded to
a tome poem,
and first page
known to humans since…
way before indigenous tribes
occupied North America
such as Osage
and/or other natives,
whose keen scents foretold
the onset from flora and
fauna sings they did gauge.

Now the regimentation
of existence commandeered
by strict adherence
affianced to the clock
lest an employee arrive one second late –
her/his pay will go hickory dock
which sequestration
to the twenty first century life
analogous to men
undergoing emasculation,
whereby he may as well be a ******
without thick horn, where business
deals concluded as overhead
a flock of seagulls
migrate to southern climes,
which with global warming seems ad hoc
yet the multitudinous animals and plants
genetically under rubric of lifelock,
which mucking around viz industrialization
humankind doth make a mock
‘ere re: and drive many miniscule species
to take safety and shelter under a rock
totally oblivious,
those bipedal hominids haphazardly
scurry to work in order
to purchase schlock
courtesy crypto currency
redeemable at social media platforms
especially one named TikTok.

Thus this pre dormant season,
where one must be vigilant and tread
like angels heeding curtain call
draw wing summer to a close
with **** the torpedoes salvo,
the cacophony kaleidoscope of color
per fifty plus shades of red
forecast thee onset
of cooler temperatures
with falun gong foliage natural compost
shelter burrowing creatures,
who stash goodies
at a later time to be fed
thus each of us need be vigilant
with no misstep to tread
upon feet lightly negotiating
whereat dwells busy itty-bitty bodies
well nigh invisible to the naked eye,
yet if ground swell of organisms
once would behold
a micro/macroscopic
whirled wide web.

eastern standard time Autumn Equinox arrives

That seasonal occasion twill arise
when darkness and light doth bring
equilibrium between night and day
raking leaves will constitute exercise
espied and witnessed by observant earthling
namely me who subsequently bellows hooray
jumping for joy childlike behavior I improvise
reliving boyhood mirth itching and inching
playfully scattering laborious effort lay
ying down burying self amidst tree humus - prize
zing spontaneity willingly orchestrating
shedding inapropos edict qua grown man at play.

A meadow for Autumn begins,
when eve doth fall upon summers’
and long ago mine childhood's end,
a hint of splendor bequeathed arose
upon firmament as changed scenery
(third equinox act since new year) bellows
basses loaded and blasted in sync
with pyrotechnic pizzazz,
while electric light orchestras suites scored for cellos
thus quiet riot of multitudinous notes swirl
from each bronzed leaf like fellows
dancing elliptically forsooth greeting mother earth
with char: rills brawn son utter hellos.

How peachy keen and grand to be seated
at plum lined tree center stage
to behold the colorful
capering downward spiraling threnody
quintessential silent rage
chapter three if nature alluded to
as a tome poem – and now the first page
known to humans since…way before indigenous tribes
occupied North America such as the Osage
and/or other natives, whose keen scents foretold
the onset from flora and fauna sings they did gauge.

Now regimentation of existence commandeered
by strict adherence affianced to the clock,
where misery loves company
lest an employee arrive one second late –
her/his pay will go hickory dock,
which sequestration to twenty first century life
analogous to men undergoing emasculation,
whereby he may as well be ******
without thick horn, where business
deals concluded as overhead a flock

of seagulls migrate to southern climes,
which with global warming seems ad hoc
yet the multitudinous animals and plants
genetically under rubric of life lock
which mucking around viz industrialization
humankind doth make a mock
‘ere re: and drive many miniscule species
to take safety and shelter under a rock
totally oblivious, those bipedal hominids haphazardly
scurry to work in order to purchase schlock.

Thus pre dormant season of the witch,
where one must be vigilant and tread
like angels heeding curtain call
draw wing summer to a close
with **** the torpedoes salvo,
the cacophony kaleidoscope of color
viz hitted courtesy sixty plus shades of red -
rose iz madder than horde of Bulls at Pamplona
forecast thee onset of cooler temperatures
with Falun Gong foliage natural compost

shelter burrowing creatures, who stash goodies
at a later time to be fed
thus each of us need be vigilant
with no misstep to tread
upon feet lightly negotiating
whereat dwells busy itty-bitty bodies
well nigh invisible to the naked eye,
yet if ground swell of organisms espied
one would behold microscopic
whirled wide webbed world.

dramatically expanding spouse,
when adorning buttons
pop off undersized blouse
which spurs yours truly to grouse,
and ruffle mine tail feathers
while listening to Scheherazade.

Eats her weigh out of home and house
unsolicited feedback courtesy
quite doubtful, she could pose
for ******* and/or penthouse
returning explicit volley
of trailing appellations lobbed

expletive laced epithets
directed at her husband the louse
in lame retaliation deftly
sparring as he doth rouse
himself out of his vittle catatonic state
thus muenster ring cheeses crust
squeaks (me) meek Mickey Mouse.

When I did pledge troth
after courtship she would not abate
aboot two plus dozen years ago
(spoiler alert) wheezing
heterosexually straight
half heartedly accepting her

asthma wife sne...
snee...sneezing mate
even then, she exhibited
appetite for consumption
defying four foot eleven
petite size then, a score
plus quarter years ago lightweight
possessed cute figure.

Now, she eats
non stop while rocking round the clock
stationing, lumbering, burgeoning
girth casting dock
shadows analogous to
edge of night
donning humongous frock
to allow growing room
for extra buttock

vacuuming any/all
comestibles in sight
downing, emptying, gulping
refrigerator contents chock a block
nearly suctioning him,
who doth tongue in cheek mock
think apple pie, yet for
grace of dog ad hoc
anchoring spindleshanks laughingstock
skinny chicken legs (mine)

with knees that knock
worse than concentration camp victim,
(this gentile Jewish atheist gently pock
king fun without intent to rock
the casbah, nor ethnically clash
mainly innocent poetic schlock),
nonetheless chicken legs
repurposed to anchor lock
stock and barrel Matthew Scott
madly flapping wings imitating flock

of seagulls to no avail
this shabby not so chic flabby baby boomer
body, mum mama
(deceased eighteen plus years)
followed dietary strictures touted by
the late Doctor Benjamin McLane Spock,
no matter, I got hoovered
into maw of tee misses,
who instantaneously
spit out awful poppycock.

The schizophrenic with the multiple profiles
sits all day in various guises
venting tirades and his versions of deluded events
exchanging comments
with him selves and notes of friendships with his alter egos
Always deep in neurosis
and in the innate vapidity of the ****** witless grandee
our gender changing
nationalities changing and location changing slime vies and
zig-rags hurriedly from
one profile to the other the physical link so glaring its comical
as it more so exposes the narcissist
the dumb egotist craving attention power validation and self
aggrandisements from him selves
to him selves as he uses his other profiles pop in to massage his ego
Mad and full of bumf and nothing
our poet and poets of doubts and the demoralising schlock
selves congratulates in prolification
Our witless wonder glaringly compensating his small ***** or
even perhaps its a rancid frustrated *****
staying totally impervious that his infantile trickery serves no purpose and his endeavours laughable
The Learned mind sees the classic narcissist feeding his wanton
needs desperately craving eluded self worth
Regardless a weak cowardly inadequate neurotic bullying perp troll is just that....a pathetic nonentity seeking relevance
and fooling him selves

Witnessed courtesy the following poetic sight
especially when dark shadows foretell edge of night
twilight zone expanding
into outer limits of width and height
obscuring webbed wide world
subsequently where black tentacles alight.

This poetic prologue feeble exercise to encapsulate commonplace frustration experienced by fledgling author evidenced by spurious poem dredged up below decks foregoing full sentences, which will resume reflections being hobbled to cobble words together, when yours truly tries his darndest to re-captcha fleeting idea or sentiment.

Minimal productiveness
as hands of time issue silent tick tock
resultant rhyme without reason mere schlock
conceding intelligence on par with rock
consanguinity quite evident
versus key difference
when affliction named agraphia doth lock
stock and barrel creative juices
resounding, resonating, and resolving

into echo chamber with hollowness when
upon noggin of scapegoat bully doth knock
impossible mission to fend off badass ****
whereby yours truly envisions
fanciful day dream lazing a boat on the dock
carefree mindset disallows watching clock
repudiating, spurning, and thwarting
thee dilemma of writer's block
deliberating calling ghost writer ad hoc

One former bohemian rhapsodizes (and a young bare cub at Antioch to boot), now prosaically expounds courtesy lengthy epistemological expressing difficulty to craft complex literary edifice applying building blocks of English language in a fitting manner that does justice to said lingua franca giving liberty to leaping lizard thoughts that dart to and fro, hither and yon within the windmills of my mind.

Rather than censor or edit, I pour out at rapid fire rate, the notions (ala kingly brainstorm) that flit thru me  noggin when first staring at the black and white screen, sometimes eyes remain closed to help initiate the process to summon forth this, that, or another just barely perceptible concept; the task less difficult when the topic provided, which preconceived subject narrows focus into figurative box.

When provided specific issue to write about
the effort still arduous to gather plethora of
disparate points aware near infinite number
of directions discourse in question
could take this, that or another route,
whereby any path could lead to a dead end
with impulse to yank inkwell and spill spout
all over manuscript,
a Rorschach work of art to tout.

Countless trials and errors entail exploration
to the near state of physical exhaustion
where each logical conclusion finds pensive
fellow inextricably entangled within his own
thicket of unprintable verbiage.

Would you dear reader believe a/or accept
eureka moments arise stealthily as cats crept
unexpectedly and inconveniently when I
get situated on toilet and whole paragraphs
tumble into consciousness pell mell faster
than bowels expelling ****** waste matter
from derrière except
Macbook Pro in other room kept
safe and sound against accidents
if mishap occurred resident Kuni Lemel
would be convulsing with grief as he wept.

In 2024, daylight savings time will begin at two o'clock ante meridiem on Sunday, March tenth. That will mean losing an hour of precious sleep and moving the clocks (around your house, and sundry frequented places) forward one hour, though your cell phone, computer, and television plus other electronic devices will likely automatically adjust. The sun will appear to rise and set an hour later.

Father time evinces spectacular robustness despite weathering setback of countless finagling representation viz Chronos (/ˈkroʊnɒs, -oʊs/; Greek: Χρόνος, [kʰrónos], "time"), also spelled Khronos or Chronus, is a personification of time in pre-Socratic philosophy and later literature. Chronos. Personification of time. Time Clipping Cupid's Wings (1694), by Pierre Mignard. Symbol.

Though crafted a few years back
jet lag effect affects yours truly
twice each year when schedules
within body electric
such as circadian rhythm
dislocate psyche
analogous to seismic shift
NOT attributed to global warming,
nor aeronautically bound sky high,
but linkedin to hour hand
on analog clock
set ahead or behind one hour.

Just about a bajillion moments ago
(from date/time
I wrote these words),
a dawning realization
arose within this sol son begat
from ma late mother
and (initial commencement
of this poem) while
then octogenarian widower father,
lived at Normandy Farms
Senior Community

in Blue Bell, Pennsylvania
(he since passed away
October 7th, 2020)
oh... no nothing cat
tuss strophic, boot
merely the revelation,
how fist bumping dee clocks
an hour hand ahead
remembered by dat
dog gone refrain
spring ahead, and fall back,

this unemployed chap
doth down play eclat
attests that his quotidian rising
schedule minimally affected
holed up here
in Highland Manor named flat
roomy enough for thyself, the Missus,
and buzzfeed ding fruit flies
each approximately the size of a gnat
a minor nuisance, though tolerable
within this appealing habitat,

where minor inconvenience experienced
by this Schwenksville, Pennsylvania resident
cuz as a recipient
of social security disability
(social anxiety) this psyche didst get rent,
which fixed (unearned) income budgeted
and predominantly costs
of living money spent
hence no need to arise
bright tailed and bushy black eyed,
pea yon sought freedom akin

to folks camped out in a tent,
which exemption immunizes
this doodle ling middle aged
muddle brained chap subjected to ranting
courtesy early morning drivers,
who angrily, frenetically,
and splenetically rant and vent
thus, the tendency, piquancy, and lunacy
to twitter (for the Yardbirds),
and keep company
with night owls, who went

a hooting for all the world wide web
to hear, whence dawgs Bach
the exact number of hours, yet oblivious
to the tight rigorous
tenon mortised schedule
manned by Mister Clock,
essentially foisting on Bread Winners,
an abstract artificial construct spurring
madcap commuters
to scurry in the rat race,

lest tardiness could cost
more than paycheck
(to ap pier with permanent dock
hue ment aye shun),
an unwonted blot add hoc
king worry about getting canned -
i.e. on permanent furlough,
perhaps forced into a life of crime,
yet if caught...
wasting away in a jail cell

as warden turns the lock
one redeeming factor,
would offer opportunity to mock
management, and more pertinently
mandate to rock
and roll to the incessant muted,
rhyme without reasonable schlock
yet devastatingly loud tick tock
analogous to stir fries
noisily prepared in wok.

Writers Block

     Forget the pen, the crayon, the chalk
Throw the words in a wok
My brain is in a complete state of shock
I hear it whisper to me as if to mock

The words un flowing as if they’re in a loch
I try but it’s all just a bunch of schlock
From my wheels I forgot to remove the chock
Can’t even free myself from my frock

So badly as before I want to rock
Everything seems like seagull squawk
Un organized and separated from the flock
Nothing logical desperately needing Spock

Beginning to feel somewhat of a gawk
Thinking I should seek help from a Doc
Because the word inventory is of low stock
This is officially known as writers block

Written By:Charles Kean
Copyright © 02/05/2020
All rights reserved