As Olive Spectrum lay on the floor at Club Envy with her lungs burning and filling up with blood from being shot by an unknown person she thought her life would never end like this.  Olive's tears started to flow as she thought of the years she spent slithering with snakes.  Her job at the BNB Bank made it easy to launder money for the Black Crime Syndicate.
It was six years ago in the month of June that her life took a downward spiral.
Upset at the thought of being late for work Olive floored the gas pedal.  As she passed by the slow moving drivers weaving in and out of traffic Olive hoped she didn't get a ticket.  I just had to stay up late watching the marathon of Funny Man.  Now I got to race the clock and pray I don't get stopped by the police thought Olive as she sped past by the other drivers.  As Olive Spectrum pulled into the BNB Bank's parking lot she checked the time.  "It's 7:55am.  I made it within five minutes" said Olive.   Olive got out of her car and walked through the bank's glass doors.
As time passed the employees of BNB got the bank ready for the public.   One of the three people that arrived at the time of opening was a new face.  Mmmmmm yummy thought Olive as she walked up to the tall light skinned man.  "Hello sir how may I help you?" asked Olive as she eyed the man up and down.  "My name is Akurra Wings.  I would like to open a checking and a savings account" answered the tall light skinned man.  "Mr. Wings please follow me to my office" said Olive.  As Olive and Akurra sat in Olive's office filling out papers Olive made it up in her mind that she would get to know Akurra on a personal level.  
After a day's work Olive got behind the wheel of her BMW and started her drive home.  On her way home Olive called her best friend Jewel Stone Wall.  "Hello Jewel how are you?" asked Olive with one hand on the steering wheel and the other hand holding her cellphone."  "I'm doing great Olive.  What's up?" answered Jewel Stone Wall as she did one of her client's hair at her salon the Golden Scissors.  "Are we still on for Saturday?" asked Olive.  With a confused look on her face Jewel asked "Is the day Friday already?"  "Yeah girl what day did you think it was?" responded Olive.  "To tell you the Truth Olive I thought the day was Thrusday" said Jewel.  "No Jewel it's Friday.  I'm glad I have a friend who owns a hair salon" said Olive.  "You better be thankful.  I'll talk with you later Olive" said Jewel.  "Ok bye Jewel" said Olive.  
Olive Spectrum was a plain looking black woman in her 30's who lived a very plain life.  She always looked forward to Saturday.  A day she would spend at the Golden Scissors getting her hair done and talking with Jewel Stone Wall her childhood friend.

Written by Keith Edward Baucum

Pondering, I sit
Contemplating, all that has
Commence, the future

Last week I told you
That I was drowning
Thinking that you'd jump in after me,

But to my surprise,
And by the way you cried, your surprise too,
You held my head under the water,
Just below the inky waves.

It was cold and muddy
And I choked on it too,
My eyes were burning
And my whole body shook
And I grasped for your hair
To try and pull myself up
But you cut it with a quick jagged slash,
And pushed me down deeper.

And soon my eyes began to hollow
And my lungs forgot to struggle
And I swear,
Through the water I saw your velvet lips part
And let out a final thought
Haphazardly tied to a sigh,

Because when I tried to tell you that I still loved you
You just let us drown.

As Olive Spectrum lay on the floor at Club Envy with her lungs burning and filling up with blood from being shot by an unknown person.  She thought her life would never end like this.  Olive's tears started to flow as she thought of the years she spent slithering with snakes.  Her job at the BNB Bank made it easy to launder money for the Black Crime Syndicate.  It was six years ago in the month of June that her life took a downward spiral.  Upset at the thought of being late for work Olive floored the gas pedal.  As she passed by the slow moving drivers weaving in and out of traffic.  Olive hoped she she didn't get a ticket.  I just had to stay up late watching the marathon of Funny Man.  Now I got to race the clock and pray I don't get stopped by the police.  Thought Olive as she sped past the other drivers.  As Olive Spectrum pulled into the BNB parking lot she checked the time.  "It's 7:55am.   I made it within five minutes" said Olive.  Getting out of her car Olive walked through the bank's glass doors.  As time passed the employees of BNB got the bank ready for the public.  One of the three people that arrived at the time of opening was a new face.   Mmmmm yummy thought Olive as she walked up to the tall light skin man.  "Hello sir how may I help you?" asked Olive as she eyed the man up and down.  "My name is Akurra Wings.  I would like to open a checking and a savings account" answered the tall light skin man.  "Mr. Wings please follow me to my office" said Olive.  As Olive and Akurra sat in Olive's office filling out papers Olive made it up in her mind that she would get to know Akurra on a personal level.  After a day's work Olive got behind the wheel of her BMW and started her drive her home.  On her way home Olive called her best friend Jewel StoneWall.  "Hello Jewel how are you?" asked Olive with one hand on the steering wheel and the other hand holding her cellphone.  "I'm doing great Olive.  What's up?" answered Jewel StoneWall as she did one of her client's hair at her salon the Golden Scissors.  "Are we still on for Saturday?" asked Olive.  With a confused look on her face Jewel asks "Is the day Friday already?"  "Yeah girl what day did you think it was?" responded Olive.  "To tell you the truth Olive I thought the day was Thrusday" said Jewel.  "No Jewel it's. Friday.  I'm glad I have a friend who owns a hair salon" said Olive.  "You better be thankful.  I'll talk with you later Olive" said Jewel.  "Ok bye Jewel" said Olive.  Olive Spectrum was a plain looking black woman in her 30's who lived a very plain life.  She always looked forward to Saturday.  A day she would spend at the Golden Scissors getting her hair done and talking with Jewel StoneWall her childhood friend.

Written by Keith Edward Baucum.

ever read a book and thought about a chello?*

on the left page of a book,
a finger follows an eye
that would be a tongue...
    on the right:
       a nun that understood
a paragraph...
         like a tailor eating
a pizza...
                     what 2 +2
is there to mind?
       apparently my maine ****
likes mahler
        and the sound of
a clicking keyboard....
                   well... if i am not
supposed to have children,
i have to study:
aren't petted felines
entwined with feline
eyes, when, what the lion
possessess (
i imply the past participle
of havin)
    it's not a spelling
mistake, rather:
                           an experiment...
        can you spell that
without
genesis genghis
              khan morphed;
half of pakitan ends with khan,
to read a book...
        being right-handed,
while drunk,
      and have to read the *left
page with a finger-conductor...
        "claustrophobic"
             with due to the "cube"
of a paragraph...
                                  as son,
i might bring the mass to kneel...
       juxtaposition
                   has never, but will now
offer a neo-abstractum;
just like modern media hasn't
understood:
            the world tends to tilt,
and yawn, simultaneously...
                 but there's still a cat appreciating
mahler...
          i still don't understand
a honing device
        of globalist mafia marking fame:
translated into trivia...
                and have you ever
read a book like a musician might
play a tuba?
         ask a ******* píckey for
            a knuckle tattoo...
                            and i'll beg you for
an attempt of a: skovronek fluster!
                  i pity the anglophone world...
it's so bombast prone...
                it has no mediocre allowance...
since the time
that a television replaced a fireplace
and didn't do much for
what was necessary to socialise...
      ; each and every day i'm growing
suspicious of
                            what encompasses
a need for thespians...
                       and why plato doesn't
revel in excluding these *******
from the republic...
                    poets? muhammed also
attacked then...
            no one attacks the thespians
though...
                          a bit like me not
index finger **** ******* my cat...
                          poetry is, a democracy...
the ars poetica est civitas popularis,
but this greek ******
                       has bred an ideology
of thespian autocracy...
      we live in times when the arts
are hardly mediated toward a democratic
buffer model;
                     just ask a painter about
what "he" feels about the over-representation
of a thespian...
                           nietzsche was
wrong about plato being boring...
                plato is someone i rather not have
inherited...
                      or rather: the past is past...
****... it's history?!
                   ars poetic, qua restitutio
                                republica:
           ­                    qua contra thespian.
perhaps myths have spawned and
died in the theory of time
based upon the "study" via nostalgia...
                       but thespian is
a deity, more real than god, being
a deity "needing" prayer.
         i still have to run my finger
across the sentences, condensed
in a paragraph on the left face of a page
as if imitating a braille reader...
   but when it comes to the right page
of a book?
           call me loon, call me child:
i can strangulate a cobra and call
myself a b'o(h)a(h)...      
                 for me it's monday, purim,
tuesday, purim, wednesday, purim,
thrusday, purim,
                             friday, purim...
    i still can't remember the name
                      of the sequence of months
in my native tongue...
            hard to consider a disparity
between a ******, and a brute.

what's it like to forgive and forget
you seem to do that often

it's all talk
never fulfilled promises
lousy and poorly at best

I start to hate every tuesday and wednesday
I hope thrusday and friday last a little longer too

I hide out in my room
I get the feeling
I don't belong in your life anymore

pushing me out
slowly
replaced and I start to feel lonely

time to grow up
think this is the end of the line

I already miss you
standing next to you

there's no way to prepare myself
to let you go