He's a thundercrash thorncake
Can crush you with a handshake
Juicy as a rare steak
Feeds my dreams

Owns a chartreuse shotgun
Is taller than the noon sun
Has me coming undone
Licks my pain

He's a cyanide thrill ride
A rollercoaster landside
Likes it by the bedside
Fills my ache

I am his and he's mine
Like succotash and sunshine
Exploding like a landmine
Save our souls!

There's a funny sort of emptiness
that passes over me
as I walk past the paperback erotica that tuck themselves away
in the shelves of the local grocery store in places that are
simultaneously completely out in the open yet completely ignored
looking, as I do, with mock casual interest
and unfeigned disdain.
Who are these intended for, really?
Are they for the snuggly-wuggly, *****, cozy-woozy, wishy-washy and warm family of four
comparing chicken nugget prices and
weighing the health benefits of
vegetable medley versus succotash?
Or are they for the uni flatmates
walking huddled together for warmth or protection or both,
seeing as they're wearing only sandals and denim shorts
and this is the first time
they've been grocery shopping without mum,
that giggle loudly together to mask how homesick they really are
while they compare the calories in
Campbell's versus Progresso.
They went with Progresso if you were wondering.
Or are they meant for those who are cooking for one?
For those who have no need to compare prices
or calories
out loud.
For those who are well acquainted
with the old, familiar tiled aisles
as they have no one to take out to dinner.
Is this where they are to find company?
Betwixt the pages of a badly penned,
lighter than marshmallows,
more shallow than the kiddie pool,
more transparent than Casper,
not-good-enough-to-be-******-compost
"literary" garbage?
Is this -assumed- female
supposed to curl up with one of these slabs of drivel
and feel **** and aroused
in her baggy sweats and ill-fitting hoodie
after she ate a microwaveable chicken *** pie all by her lonesome?
As a single girl who often cooks for one,
I am offended by this.
Personally,
I think Lestat is ten times sexier than Edward,
Salai is way cuter than Fabio,
and Christian Grey couldn't S Mr. Rochester's D.
What I'm saying is-
Grocery Stores.
YOU are the primary reason for this pathetic f-ckery.
Everything else in the store can be compared for quality.
So why not apply that same knowledge
to the book arena.
Signed,
A Concerned Shopper
p.s. Please extend the validity date on the chicken *** pie coupon. Thank you!

There's trouble growing in the garden
As the carrots make fun of those that are green
The potatoes are keeping their eyes out
Staring down those bleeding heart beets

Leaves of spinach are flexing their muscles
And of course the corn are all ears
Broccoli is green with envy
With the onions always in tears

The rhubarb has a thing for the strawberries
Can't seem to get along with anyone else
New to the winter garden which has the vegies talking
Not sure this frost will ever melt

The asparagus has been here forever
And the pole beans are always vaulting the fence
The lima's are out searching for the wisdom of the succotash
As the lettuce wonders where its head went

Yes there's trouble growing in the garden
Like we haven't all seen this before
The only time they get along is flash frozen and packaged
Chilling behind the grocer's freezer door

Does Queenie love Kingman?
Give it windfury.
Be my magnetic field.
The king and queen are but constructs
Roles they are forced into

Coercion. Co-optation. Join us
Tell us what to think
Tell us - tell them - how to love.
I won't listen as fully as the rest
I make my own definitions.

Succotash. Ketchup. Gluten.
Someone forgot the curds
Mark my words, Gilbert
The bras and kets will multiply tonight
Let's be a scalar

Let's make some sense of
the abstractions

Only
to
be
broken
again?

I crave not sense
I crave the electromagnetic field
Sense is the king
I want the prince

There's no pep in my step, no glide in my stride
The pain's agressed, all in due time
Seeping sinkholes, our pet peeves
Incorrigible succotash, your crows feet

Buy low end
Desire high end
Broken records
Break world records

That body slam has left me abatic
Tried being the better person, look what that did
A seismic toss cost me the use of my legs
I did my best, that's what they all say

Buy low end
Desire high end
Broken records
Break world records

Yo
Fil -Am I am
Tho' that Uncle Sam
Is a pilfering kind of uncle,

I still believe in Love
Of Freedom rides
Of Lady Liberty's symbolic
Light
Burning brightest
A united flame...

Yo! Bro'
There's no need (yet so many do)
Have - nots hafta
Feed
         All Walks
                            Long Roads
Home.

The seeds will sprout
                   Great roots / Evergreen

When we quench every thirst
        With poetic Justice
Logic / Science / Reasoning

Truth.

Yo!
Now, Says we
No Underground or miners' sky of coal
Cuz hearth is home
Where the heart is strong,
(Where resides living souls)

A coat of amor of many hues

Of cotton--chain gang--rainbows
Of our bodies
Electric / this sojourn railroad
We dance
       Deep down getting down
Blues / rhythm/ love on high
Every kind
Spectrums of hot jungles and purest light.
Sun tan and showers
Brought to you by the Maker
Of Sky...

Yo!
Joe, my bro', is not
No ******,
G's / Living Proof
Peeps this
White wigs
My All American is multinational
(A Hero)

Youths
And fountains

A World of many nations
Toward one republic :
Mans Fire and Golden worth
(The future points to moot)

From soot or steep
Great Walls and Mountains'
Sherpa Buddhist peace
Rise from our only Earth
As we bask beneath
with all
The bounties of the Sun

We are Sam / I am you
And we are
One
      together

Here the same
We are
American genomes

As for me, half breed
A Filipino and green
With Irish flame
"O-oh"
No shame in my game.

Yo! Americans
            
Be Thankful / you thinkers in kind

Mankind / Human
Down to the last
Past
Suffering,
Sufferage and Tribunes,
From melting pots
A succotash

What kind of American are you?

___________

*African American
Native American / Indian American-Hindi
Asian American
Irish / Italian American
Spanish speaking Mexican American
Japanese and Chinese American
Korean American
European / Candian / French American
Siberian / Slavic American
Middle Eastern / Arab American
All American Russian / Serian American

A cohabitat of all of us.
(A world of beautiful Mutts)

Face is ill and filled with hate trying to facilitate vassals as bait. Perps pet fate by perpetuating crime rate, and they so unprepared and shocked when they get their court date. But being a pro takes a toll but that’s just apart of my daily protocol. Give Ben a drill and if he get a headache get him some Benadryl. Is any of this real, cause it is a real pain in my *** for I feel more persecuted than Israel. We all spin this distorted wheel, and we all give in to distorted ideals.  This just gets so crazy like schizophrenia, hasn’t it come clear to ya that reality is an unusual phenomena. Edge your hate by being educated, getting hella drunk on alcohol and wondering how it all magically evaporated. Frozen status, frozen madness going in like mad max aborting you like you a fetus. What the funk got my tongue out like I’m about to do the Jordan dunk. What the hell is up with you, I would tell you but I’m too busy man as I got a lot to do. Socialist views you probably look at me with a negative lens on the news but whether or not you listen is really up to you.  Simple lies symbolize several slides of slimy sneaky snarky callous human intentions throughout their lives. Cyclical intervals got us going in circles, clinical irrational rotting thoughts parade our brains that make us unethical. Suffering succotash all these issues make me wanna get some hash..browns hold up sit down be humble before one gains the crown. Blundering balderdash swerving in hoping not to crash, and it sounds easier then it is so don’t bash me cause I’m like a one man stampede just like vash. Everything is a metaphor do you get that ***** for its just all a election for another **** in office to ***** us over and give us *** sores. Family structures becoming like the dinosaur, for we have no time for them as we to busy fighting in the money war. So expensive, unrepentant, unreflective, so offensive and uninventive. Such is our demented state of mind but it’s to late to take a rewind and remind ourselves of the morals and values left behind.

I enjoy a good cartoon
As much as anyone around
But can't remember when I moved
Into the middle of Cartoon Town

People now have about Mickey Moused
Everything to death
Don't have the nerve to say it out loud
So for now it's underneath my breath

It's hard to keep the daily Goofy
Out of the public square
Where once it was my duty
I'm now out to lunch like Yogi Bear

Is it that I'm just used to it
Exit stage left numb
Sufferin' Succotash Sylvester
Smack dab in the middle of Cartoon Town

Being quite the colorful array
Of 2D insanity these days
Where Fred and Wilma Flintstone
Are not the only ones to cave

With Bozo the Clown and his friends around
There's too many now to count
Every character you see you care to meet
In the middle of Cartoon Town

so u real???
Warning! The following choppy, batty,
*****: elegy = flaky, goofy, history: iffy,
jumpy, kooky: loopy, matty, *****, nippy,
sketchy material prone to find the reader
dazed and bewildered, yet comfortably numb.

Modern Roam Min Times – mesh
THERE IS NO RELATION WITH THE
EPIC OF GILGAMESH (abridged from
brook land) AND THIS VIGNETTE – in ma Englesh.

thank a u faux sis
this married sexagenarian
encloses his poetic opus
the smooching this celibate
(sleep as a cellar dweller) chap doth miss
shaw wish i could give hew a kiss
though ye might rip ply with a hiss
that would usher inxs of x2c Noah obliging bliss.

while perched within mine
Schwenksville, Pennsylvania aerie
this totally mishmash, succotash, n trash -
hoopfully finds ya cheery
so...hallo n greetings ma dearie
just faw bean help ming this fool

i.e. myself who haint no fairy,
boot possibly the missing humankind link
cuz o be yin - head to feet - completely as hairy
Siamese twins with names Tom n Jerry
'though ye might disbelieve moi n feel leery
n doubt every word written -

but try 2 feign b ying merry
while i pose the following philosophical query...
to make sense = deciphering billy shakes perry
now take a mooch needed break cuz,
the following gibberish might beak comb quite weary.

Is society a better world to live in with less or more?
boy! those Everclear caveman days were brutish,
nasty, short and rough. that aside, though
no Culture Club, Fancyfeast, nor Iggy Pop
the Flintstone era a bit raucous, riotous, and
yabba dabba with Doobie Brothers rubble ye us.

Def Jam, ear splitting cacophony felt like
listening to partying beastie boys on a vampire
weekend competing with Def Leopards roar
n rush shin version of hells bells, Inxs of pulp
fiction sung backwards by cold play, or a brutally
nasty, yet thankfully short version per youtube
video drowning out beach boys straight out ta

Compton winking in the hood while loud Quiet
Riot !@#$ growls shook B52 sized bats overhead,
when this grizzled papa bear disturbed (like
twittering angry birds), and forced to wake
prematurely from hibernation set his seething
animal anger to boil, and smoke to issue from
jack rabbit *** nine looking Don Quixote ears.

argh! go. whar art thou Cello Yo Yo Ma?

the gumption from this then profoundly gap toothed,
high browed, red necked ursine, viperous spouse getting
one swiftly tailored kick in the bony **** sent me flying
like a twisted sister careening forward out of summer time
sadness air back to the future. right then n tha hair, earth,
wind and fire convinced this **** sapiens he became
another Grateful Dead Foo Fighter.

upon immediate and most unwelcome exposure therapy
to the Avast arctic blast (complete with Arctic Monkey),
this Mama’s and Papa’s Boy (by George) was in no mood
to neither tangle nor play footsie with Mother Nature.

Analogous to The Idler Wheel Is Wiser than the Driver
of the ***** and Whipping Cords Will Serve You More
than Ropes Will Ever Do, I wanted to whip the hide,
when needles of miniature aeroplane shaped snow white
slippery buckshot elements of style kissed, pierced and
smashed against his face from those shoddily made flimsy
animal clothes that barely kept him warm.
Lucky for vat of midnight oil, which shrouded me
in n wispy pearl jam pelt.

Tears for Fears spilled in One Direction (like 10,000
Maniacs bursting from a Soundgarden or highly
revved Motorhead emulating a Quiet Riot).

Wah. Stop crying bellowed the Queen Scorpion
(Poison ing the Air Supply).

Without - dark shadows of a doubt slunk N’Sync
with the twilight zone along the edge of night, these
beatle browed Monkeys (strewn by denim dog gone
hooligans), who cawed like sum Cajun gumbo baboons
as proto Partridge Family for a banana split Sunday
closing out Vampire Weeknd packing a full house
at the Tokyo Hotel.

Anyway, I practically froze off mine scrawny ****.

Dang!

Ooh, how purty, a cute deer.

Out came the bow and arrow.

the feathered lancet described a Nike arc with
Nike like swoosh bulls’ eye.

Upon uttering "hey Lucy i am home", the little
beasts tore their sharp nine-inch long nails into soft raw doe.

Bathe? The (Puddle Of Mud battled crippled creek),
when a dry riverbed doubles up as a mud bed or
washbasin after the springtime flood.

How in the name of judas priest could our ancestors
enjoy feeling like a beast of burden?

who says you cannot always get what you want? Alice
coop er in chains? Beastie boy George Cinderella? Eddie
money? Freddie Mercury? Iron Maiden? Lana del rey?
Jane’s addiction? Pink Floyd? Yes! the entire Motley Crue?