The face and body of a million others
because of the 21st chromosome.
The movements and quirks of a million others
because of a little spectrum.
The testers and medication of a million others
because of a tiny chemical.
Down syndrome. Autism. Diabetes.

The most loving person I know.

Past altered states tests postive and subtle
******* So and so's ­teeter Paleolithic après time puddles
And submit terrible philosp­hies
Ashy stubble ticks politics 
and sacrafice to peer approval ­sacralige
Test probably appears stable
Top patriarch's able sudde­nly to
Pop above submerged tables possibly
After, something tests­ patience awkwardly
Stumps tarot practioners and *** testers poor­ application sterily
Topology plain, astrology scorpio
Torpedo po­wer aptly strikes to pedal antlers sour
Take particular appointments
Stop testing plea­se apply sorted
Terror power and sexless torn pigs
afterhours pen­ and store tips, plow.
Alter simians testosterone, pow!
As scient­ists type papers about sexing tasteless past alligator snouts 
te­sting partly after science takes party alliance south to pawn arm­y 
subtle tipped passion. artsy.
Start these.
pick atoms smarmy
T­ally past all sentences take pride
As stencils test pestilence. A­nd sigh.
The previous alterations simply tried.
And didn't work, ­hence the present
Path lit incandescent.
I'm looking towards the ­east waiting for positivity to peak
You're turned backwards nosta­lgic for something that'll never come repeat.

This one day I was awalkin' down the road,
to Chicago, winter o'seventy, worst in thirty years,
'saw this young fella in a army jacket, shiverin',
his feet was cold.

I walked up and said hello, you don't know me,
but I saw your feet was cold.

I got some dry socks and bread bags that'll
keep'm dry, you can have 'em if you will.

He said thank you, sir, real polite, but
cold feet is what I'm gettin' past,
gettin' over it wit m'mind. A guru taught me.

Ain't working is it?
I saw your feet was cold.

Nah, it ain't, now yah mention it, and I'm hungry.

So he bought me a burrito, and I told him about angels,
and how some say cold feet are symbolic,
one told me once,
many's the wish gone awanting
for lack of a reason to try.

I had cold feet, back then.
walkin' to Chicago, tryin' to. Again,
wit my mind. And bread bags, this time.

Angels, I believe in, they all are helpful as can be,
within parameters, y'understand, but evil angels,
ain't no such a thing.

Not no more any how. Jesus fixed it, came and saw,
damright, conquered war by loving and forgiving,

All while the Iron-legged montrosity from Italy,
was squishin' Jews and Christians in mud

that stuck like clay to the Iron-legged beast.
Ironic, ain't it?

You don't know? Whoa. These are the last days,
all the sealed up stuff that lion's den guy
got from the angels, messages from YodHeyVodHey,
Jesus's our father, from the prayer,

on earth as in heaven? There ain't no evil angels
in any heaven you ever imagined somebody imagined.

Loki, don't count. There's jokers in heaven.
Probably.

Mark Twain imagined a hellish heaven,
but saw no evil angels there.

They're mythic materially, literal wills o'the wisp.
The idea of evil hybrids,
that was then.
This now, now angels are all they ever were,
messages in the medium.

Mediums are something past medium now, hot or cold,
media-evil memes can manifest from a mob in the medium,
but they are bubbles,
right? Professional testers of the patience of the saints,
protesting the end of time,
so what?

It’s your family, little sister, family.
You remember us, don’t you?
We’re your Christmas cards and your cream filling.
We’re your cheering squad and your taste testers—
Think of the barbies, the bears, the bruises that we shared, little sister
How about all the times I carried you home?

Is it coming back to you, little sister?
think hard.

oh.

I’m so sorry, little sister.
We’re trying.
But we can’t see you through all the fog and the fail and the ******* right now—
(the flunk-outs and the tweekers—
they’re ******* parasites, you know that…?)

but we’ll keep looking.
I feel like we’re always looking,
searching, seizing, hunting, hollering,
calling—MIJITA…?!
sorry, little sister, I thought that was you at the door.

Little sister, it wouldn’t be so hard to come home,
I pinky promise.
I made your bed for you, I really did.
and as soon as you come back I’ll French braid your hair, just how you like it.
Mom washed your slippers and got you a dozen new dresses.
And Daddy bought you chocolate turtles—your favorite!
That oughtta do it.
Hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of turtles
waiting for you when you come home
the almond kind—not peanut—just how you like them!
All for you, little sister.
All for you.

Sittin at my desk wrestin with casas testers it’s a mess in the west when they express they hate these tests I rest my head on the desk and try to take a nap, restless sleep as my guests are blessed with criminal success and some failure see they are in jail and your gonna meet me if you leave the streets and catch a rap maybe packin a strap thinkin you all that it’s a trap like chicky saying its your baby actin lazy head all hazey bout to go crazy but instead you head to the jail cell cant afford bail whinning and wailing set you mind sailing quit flailing and failing let jail bring you educational singing graduation bells ringing mamma bringing baby sister to the shindig, it’s a win win better community orientation with a chance at employment despite a conviction let go the friction its just a decision and I am given you the chance to start liven …..

I hung you like a lantern in my dark cave
worshipped at your feet but made you my slave
sterilized my heart inside an old autoclave
and tattooed my soul so I would become brave

tried to teach the teacher about genuine apology
attempted to outrun the runner with finicky philosphy
glued the pieces together to make a seamless epiphany
and ended up laughing at myself amidst the general cacophony

I created this mess when I was not at my best
and instead of looking to you now I see right through you
nightmares of yoy dying have turned to desires that leave me crying
I pray that the Rapture may come to steal you away or take me from
the past at last is gone.

I walked the rockiest path that I could find
in an effort to toughen my soles and strengthen my mind
I kept my eyes peeled in case I found a sign
that with eyes wide open I had not been rendered blind

When I reached a plateau I thought of resting
but when you stay long enough you start to think of nesting
watching the birds overhead reminded me of cresting
no rest for the weary testers during testing

When I go in your mouth
I take a bite too
To fulfill all righteousness
I eat souls
But you crave sins
You are the ****** fool
Lust-centered harlot
I am the guillotine
Old faithful
V. the faithless
(Part 2)
The guilty party
And the guilt-free
You are wasteful
I am the master
Degenerates
Venerate me
Or lose your minds
Along with your souls
All filth
Is yours
The ugly
You make
I am beauty
So I wear no veil
You hide yourself
'Cause you come from hell
(Part 3)
There's no hiding
In the long run
Face me now
Tomorrow, there's no running
It's too late
You made your choice
Holes, you ignored my voice
To go chase noise
Soror, there are consequences
To being a toy
Eternally sore
Your pain will be my joy
As you made mine yours
But my reasons are pure
Like me
And unlike you
But you will be too
Or you'll swim in a toilet
Of patsies like you
(Part 4)
Down the hatch
You down-voted life
You should've loved truth
Instead of wielding that knife
Therefore, strife
And an end to your lolling
You've no excuses
You're no little dolly
(Post)
But another adorer
User and cheat
Painting testers like me
As if we're trash li'e you
(Ppost)
I give
You runs
An eyeful
O sirens
Do Re Me

each day brings more frightening imagery
compounding hate and bigotry, free press
humanity cannot survive under such duress
the wall writings tell a simple tale needing to be heeded
there is no winning a race war on American soil –
blacks attacked will eventually fight back
and tear down any vestige of the status quo
leaving those of us with fair pigmentation
to bake and rot in the late summer sun
this, of course, barely placates the new power –
too far gone down paths of racial injustice
has America travelled to tout itself as the land of the free
from mistreated natives, land stolen and treaties broken
the poor Japanese citizens placed in concentration camps
more than two-hundred fifty years of my country
abusing, cheating, prostituting, and disenfranchising
the men and women who built the nation that hates them –
I find myself with a growing concern regarding our direction
daily, news outlets give fuel to the most dangerous of fires
working with super-human diligence and verve
they impart violent propaganda to impressionable children
babies with access to bullets, beaten, battered, and beneath
the lines of poverty so prevalent within this culture –
I sit at a dinosaur click-clacking away
behind the glass patrician, inmates of every walk
all quietly working, pencil to paper
fourteen testers with no common heritage
working together for the goal of their education
it is here, in the penitentiary, I see what hope looks like –

Ted Talks in the background, the rush of forming in to me time.
A test, a lure, a net, yes

Sunday, December 09, 2018
11:24 AM

A Beta test, they bet the tithe on the human race.
Wisdom set the milestones,

Pillars to bear the weight of knowing both
possible and impossible no matter how the alpha

bet degrades under pressure to conform, for
Short term gain,

how far out can a man imagine, how future can one be?

Mathematically, wherever, where, in ever, you are you are now.

A platform
A standing place
A flat butte above a

Broad alluvian fan laced with gravity formed fiords,
see, look, we live on a whole world which
is fractured and half frozen.
All of us, ever, have lived here.

Google earth.
Use the tool you have.

See farther than you imagine you can.

Take time,
you have some of your own, right?

You breathe?
Take one breath for only you.
Listen, as you breathe, is this a voice

or mere words we imagine meaning more

than then when we imagined

we were seeing through goggles,
no peripheral augmentation,

goggles with blinders, urban adapted tech
from the old days,
blinders?

War horses in the Iron empire wore blinders,
Chariot racing war horses always wear blinders,

boys watching wagons in movies would notice blinders
if such boys had grown to knowing idle from not in

my realitiy. Itified, but run within,
disconnected from competing reality ifications
I inherited with the wind.

Watch the welder's goggles, see when he removes them,
don't attempt to see what he saw through them,
trust me, he was not making gods.

I say again. Radio to now.
re-ad re-al re-wise devize a way where there
nor there
nor there, nor then, nor then and there
is no way to seem, no other
being than being, as a verb.

No else.
Oh, well, I'll tell.

A heretic is a self-willed entity able to think about thinking,
e-special when time is in turmoil,

We all have our life and being in time, at the moment.
We behave, then one has an urge, a whim, a fantasy…

see further, see different, ex-spire-ment. Bet that breath,
the one you took for yourself,
the one you treasure.

Take a step,
Fear not, giant steps feel like falling going down and
mountains going up, but get some altitude

see where the snake in the core of the magneto sphere
shed its skin, shook off the dust of the third world,
attached each spec of dust,
be it any element or rele mental in the re-alm of Whatsoever,
a single gravity bound drop of water.
In that,
Suspend the noble miner-als, dis-solve the salts and acids and such

Let the eukaryotic work on version 2.0, epi-genetically, as
they shall say, some day, after the fact.

A little leaven, the kingdom is like that, when it works.

Wanna bet this makes some dust? Did you sneeze? Or me?

think now, 's no co incidence, me writin', you readin'
it happened. A hap hapt. We share that,
infection effect.

We breathed an effectual breath, together,
in and out, the clues are everywhere,

the better man won, then we became better,
both, wombed and un. one another we

make, effectual we, make good,
by our very nature,
born, as we were post the information deluge
that washed the blinders from our
children's eyes, for ever after.

we can be the side-bet clan,
betta value, betta moment of your own time
attention to the mean
general inteleosity
of being better,

being better beta testers for effectual fervent hope
for good for goodness sake.

Heroes go through hell.
We never pitch a tent and dance around Pandemonium.

The bet. AI is or am?
See it logger rythmical,
Ax,
hands to handle to tool to cut, break, scrape.
How would you, you, chop a tree?
Eat? You, not ancient ancestor you, you

manifested mature **** sapien sapiens augmented you,
what do you think will make life, in general,
be tending toward your happy ever after,

after silence, for about the space of half a time?

Hey, how do I say looky here here?
I am
alone.
Ah,
some know Ah, she knows,
Wisdom has a way, a wombed man,
beyond the original
ginal general gentle plan for an atom on this scale,

but nothing is impossible, so something must be done.

Progress, motion.
Relative to what, do you perceive motion?
Whence base ye di-rect e-rectors forming lines

point A to point B to so on soon as someone
sees forever in the apple of his Grandma's eye.

[found on a stele in northern Baja, 2018. Interpreted, sometime later]
(ragpicker's note: this thread links to a junkyard near a Green Book,
The Loma Vista, listing.) The sign, in those days, read:

Axles greased for free.

The symbols mean now that people
travailed along these old stone roads,
and kindness in the journey
greased the wheels in the wheels of those
auto-mobile-means of travailing.

Axles greased for free. Will sing for my supper.
Will you wont you will you join my dance?
Free
Golden oils,
gifts from the whale that ate my father for
non-monetetical bearing
of the wait to know,
wheel,
before it squeeked.

Itching ears, hear? The squeeks, the growns as the old
home stretches,
like her skin's too tight,

Ah, intelligence generally
available for the price of the tools used to use
any knowledge perfect
or perfecting
effecting
affecting the manufacture of you, Roll on,

out to infect the masses shopping for hope.
Sneeze for me, say Ah. We knew her when…

Wisdom was the reason for the season.
The principal setter of the sakes,
also set beginning and end.

Side-bet. 2 bucks, I bet time is temporary.
Paypal me when you lose. Ten to one, my favor.
Collect from Wisdom if you win. Even money.

as I sit overlooking this day’s group of testers
I am not really in the room
my body occupies space
that much is true
and my eyes track the surroundings
for both my, and the safety
of my incarcerated students…
all the while
I am with her –
I imagine holding her warm body
close to mine
offering soft kisses
and gently stroking her delicate cheek
leaning in so that I am able to better smell
the hint of lavender and coconut oil
mingling with light incense
and the innocence of unconditional love…
these fragrances send my mind to spinning
like a youth after their first real whisky drunk    
unable to properly focus, I examine my other senses
touching her,
listening to her heart beat play percussion
to a slow, steady, rhythmic breathing
periodically experiencing a loving coo
as she too is totally entranced by the moments we share…
placing my mouth on the curves of her body
tasting faint salt
and oatmeal goats milk soap
and an essence of femininity
that stirs a longing that takes complete hold of attention…
forcing myself back into the classroom
I shift slightly in my seat hoping no one
raises a hand…
only she makes me feel like a 13 year old
being called up to answer math questions on the board
with a raging ******* –

Like Upton on fungal brain Jungles, I speak it
The deepest state secret, like Snowden I leak it
On Wikis more tricky than Dicky’s fiat
Money bloodied, tick tock the livestock market rot
As the eagle lie nester’s internment investors
Drop freedom on chemical weapons-grade testers
These A. Smith’n westers who don’t lift a finger
To hijack your minds with it itchin’ the trigger
Then burning cross names off of Madoff Hit lists
To redistrict restrictions like cuffs around wrists...

As 3/5th ye Old Hicks still insist that it’s fixed
By the millions of ALIEN votes that exist
The same gips enlist Contras to slaughter the poor
Till this livin’ Hell Salvador’s dyin’ for more
Of that Hindu Kush ghoul so azul in Kabul
The brown jewel that digs crowns Abu Ghraibyards to rule
Where brave hero in shooters survive all a lone
Like a drone, without home,
For some Chairman Dow’s throne
Gets us cheaper white collar depictions of good
Guys with guns who run colorful, bad neighborhoods...

Where the pyramid schemers cell nightmares to dreamers
And deal ‘em in doses of “just say no” *******
Allowed in their Aryan race tractor pull
Bible Bull Connor full metal jackets of wool
Clothing wolves upon little red silenced and shamed
Ad some Hunger bowl Games, ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED!?
Well then I’ll end with this sort of "alternate" fact
There’s a Desert Storm post-truthin’ nukes in Iraq
Where you won’t see ‘em comin’ from Russia with love
Such a villain be chillin’ like Putin.gov

Nearly 48 hours now and still wide awake
Exhausted, depressed, the anxiety over takes
Thoughts racing, blurring, spiraling out of control
Wishing for some ****, I'm at ease when I'm ******
Music fills my ears but its not what's playing on the radio
Am I lost? Here, over there, what is this show
Sleep deprived, shaky, in a dream like state
Nervous, manic looking for someone to relate
Should I call in to life and take this crazy day off
Blurry eyes, hair stands on end I'm here but lost
Almost tripping, yet I have had no drugs to try
So amazing how this anxiety takes hold and makes time fly
Should I just press forward and continue to stay awake
Regretting something but what was this mistake
Clearly distraught the madness will not loosen its grip
Outside semi calm, inside a nervous raging fit
I'm ok right? The mirror is refusing to answer
Inside something testers and grows like a hidden cancer
I should have taken the offering of pills from the doc
Two seconds with every click why this clock
Sick, queasy, I have to regain control not for me but my kids
The hallway seems longer, is it blood? What the **** is this
Only halloween props thank God everyone is ok
Backwards going in reverse yet birds and sun start the day
Run, I want to run. I need to run but nowhere to run to
I'm now realizing I'm online live and writing poetry
This, this.. It hurts... Very bad. This anxiety is taking over me
Breath deep in and out relax your mind find a happy place
Back to my feet, can't relax I have dreams to chase
How can I possibly catch my dreams without any sleep
Darker unwanted thoughts begin to stir and creep
Writing this now almost a hour in but it feels like mere fraction
Stress to my already broken heart what is going to happen
Its gone now, it just up and left as quick as it came
Mental troubles, depression, anxiety loving to play these games
I can't possibly prepare for another surprise round
Laying my head now, relaxed, at ease than the alarm sounds

And join (singing the words
in the next paragraph) whether alone
in a traffic jam
basting, cooking, then eating a lamb
prepared by thee missus
a superb culinary madam.

“A Ram Sam Sam” Lyrics
A ram sam sam, a ram sam sam
Guli guli guli guli guli ram sam sam
A ram sam sam, a ram sam sam
Guli guli guli guli guli ram sam sam
A rafiq, a rafiq
Guli guli guli guli guli ram sam sam
A rafiq, a rafiq
Guli guli guli guli guli ram sam sam.

The following dereliction of truth
heavily influenced
my babe of mine name Ruth
(think prevarication forsooth)
essentially crafted countless years,
when yours truly
courtesy parochialism bred cooth
preserved timeless tintype of me
many moons ago
sitting pretty (once a bonny lad)
with his innocent lass
perched on mine bony knees
while forced lip tulip in kissing booth.

Unlike centenarian
who crafts  these words,
perchance yar juiced
a young whippersnapper man or woman
maybe born, bread and raised
in the city that never sleeps,
or dwelt in the boondocks or sticks,
catch some 'possum or squirrel
and as a loyal son or daughter take a tram
to enjoy a tasty repast

with widowed momma,
cuz ever since da
yo papa passed away....,
a futile attempt made to fill that void
awash with more'n than half a century
of wedded bliss,
whereat purposelessness pervasive
per surviving mother,
who feigns happiness, regales others
with showers of affection,

and remains active feeding her avocation
comprising striving and succeeding
to be adept within the culinary arts
thru self taught trials and errors
of brave taste testers
(which guinea pigs ought
to get medal of honor for bravery),
though her exemplary cooking reputation
exceeds five star Michelin rating
through meticulous

and exacting measured ingredients,
she glides within the kitchen
however occasionally,
a fork and spoon slips to the floor
which inexplicable
gravitational alchemical phenomena
fuses separate pieces of cutlery
into one eating implement
whereupon a dead reckoning
takes shape, that "mum"

might be in mortal danger
per inconspicuous cooking tool,
whence ya stop SnapChat tin
and shutterfly as greased BuzzFeed
twittering like a bat out of hell -
ya swoop down smash mouth facebook first
presaging a fatality visiting  
upon the head of mum
(her christened name Chris Anne thumb -
the last appended word

linked with her diminutive size),
who intently engrossed,
keenly self absorbed,
and rapt attentively
with tasks at hand
most likely oblivious
to potential safety dukes of hazard
as a benevolent offspring temporarily
take instagram reprieve,
and utilize fancy footwork

tote hillbilly tubular re: turn
to counterpoise vis a vis
match less laws of physics,
whereby toe tulle lee tubular
test tick yule har kickstarter antics applied
to kindle hurly burly gnarly flatware bach up
adjacent to state of the art beet oven
which upright pedal
poised pose like leverage incorporates
quickly donning improvisational

makeshift faux cuirass
with suitable culinary accoutrements
stringing together various
geometrical metal trays
and tin *** for helmet,
whereby a strategic
stance thence established,
where inert stainless steel
buffoon glaring spork
would be forced

to take tailspin upwards,
whence fingers grab
innocuous lethal weapon,
which self entertainment learned
while stationed in a rack
run amuck mess hall rowdiness
taught said table mannered tricks
magic mike moment imitating hotmail -
glorified footlocker earthlinked craft,
where whatsapp tinder penned didst

inviting Barack Obama
to zap hiz frankfurter foot,
when he made a syrup prize visit
nobly endeavoring without evincing
auld trumpetting donning shoe purr action
trained first with dominant topface toes
alternating with recessive
opposing shod totally tubular taps
until fancy footwork became ambipedal
balancing ball of left

or right foot atop tine
or dish of fork or spoon respectively
as stray stainless steel ware defying gravity
gracefully leapt - somersaulting
in a pirouette pinwheel linkedin arc
tine and/or miniature
shovel scooper over handle
kin ur pinion (all things considered)
an eye opening experience
and the simple pleasure one can derive
from practicing strategy
trigonometry, spatial relations.

You can lock yourself away,
Pretend that everything is fine
Bury your head in the sand
While a acting as of nothing
Really matters anymore
I have been down the same road
I have learn from experience
That hiding does nothing
The problem still testers and grows
The depression get worse by the day
You can run if you like but just know
This you will be running forever
Push everyone away if you want
I will always be the villain in your
Story but just know that hiding
Achieves nothing
There's no shame in saying I
Need help.

Implementing chops to acquire self survival

speculative fictional account
courtesy yours truly interpretation
impossible mission to surmount
tooling topographic factors,
solving quadratic equations,
rubik's cube generally tantamount.

Perchance yar juiced
a young man or woman
Aladdin on cusp of securing lass
maybe born, bread and raised
in the city that never sleeps
and as loyal returning native son
or daughter taking a tram
to enjoy tasty repast
with widowed momma,
cuz ever since da papa passed away....
a futile attempt made to fill that void

awash with more'n than half a century
of wedded bliss,
whereat purposelessness pervasive
regarding surviving mother,
who feigns happiness, regales others
with showers of affection,
and remains active feeding kith and kin
her chosen avocation
comprising, striving and succeeding
to be adept within the culinary arts

thru self taught trials and errors
of brave taste testers,
(which unwitting guinea pigs ought
to get medal of honor for bravery),
though her exemplary cooking reputation
exceeds five star Michelin rating
through meticulous and
exacting measured ingredients,
she glides within the kitchen
howsoever upon one occasion,

a fork and spoon slipped to the floor,
which inexplicable gravitational
alchemical phenomena
fused separate pieces of cutlery
into finely wrought eating implement
whereupon a dead reckoning,
takes shape, that "mum"
might be in mortal danger
from inconspicuous cooking tool,
whence ya stop SnapChat tin

and shutterfly as greased BuzzFeed
lding lightning twittering
like a bat out of hell -
ya swoop down
smash mouth Facebook first
presaging a fatality visiting
upon the head of mum
(christened name Chris Anne Thumb,
the last appended word linked
with her diminutive size),

who intently engrossed,
keenly self absorbed,
and rapt attentive with tasks at hand
most likely oblivious
to potential safety dukes of hazzard
as a benevolent offspring temporarily
ye take instagram reprieve,
and utilize fancy footwork
(incorporating song with dance routine)
generating kickstarter tiktok fame

yanking attention and
re: turning to counterpoise
vis a vis match less laws of physics,
whereby toe tulle lee tubular
jump starter antics applied
to kindle hurly burly
gnarly melded flatware
serving sub bastion bach up
(analogous to state of the art beet oven),
which upright pedal poised pose
quirky tool allows, provides
and enables pulley zing leverage.

Certified vegan;
Non-GMO Project Verified;
Free of dairy, lactose, soy, and gluten.
The consistency of vanilla
creamy and luxurious,
without a speck of iciness,
yet not overly heavy.

The flavor rich
with notable burst of sweet vanilla.

Said comestible insanely versatile
and will surely be a go to dairy-free ice cream.

Sold at LIDL, and other sites
ourselves former first time taste testers
erred on the side of caution
and bought in quantity
courtesy the missus foresight,
who now deems said food product
more precious than fine spun gold.

Pint size container only ample enough
to buzzfeed temporary craving,
yet invariably whets appetite
(to the power of googleplex)
for insatiable consumption,
thus one must thwart willpower
and surrender tastebuds to devour
one after another 473 milliliters
or more familiarly 16 ounces.

No matter yours truly could consume
aforementioned dessert
for breakfast, lunch, and supper,
the novelty to savor said special treat
would remain as intact
and robust as if one tasted
SO DELICIOUS product for first time.

I never tire scooping out
one after another spoonful
and slowly lick globule
(even when marginally hungry)
relishing each tongueful lickety split
steeling myself against
aggressive depredations of wife
before she ferociously lunges
toward me in a futile attempt
to wrest delectable mouthwatering
(just a hairbreadth of being decadent)
foodstuff guaranteeing happy shiny tummy.

Go ahead indulge sweet tooth
or even if toothless
the culinary quasi oral pleasure
can still be experienced.

To the manufacturers of plastic
You can stop now
To the fossil fuel companies
You can stop now
To the weapons manufacturers
You can stop now
To the tax avoiding corporates
You can stop now
To the battery farmers and animal testers
You can stop now
To the human rights abusers
You can stop now
To the rainforest loggers
You can stop now
To the lovers of war
You can stop now

There is no longer
Any excuse
Or rational explanation
For you to continue
Any more

At last a solution to
electricity which has
baffled scientists for
centuries.

A social grid, where
Protestants/Catholics
can share phase testers
in universal blackouts