Humanity will fall long before we can abscond to the stars.
Our planet already shifts with this paradigm that is human,
The so-christened 'anthropocene', it will leave us
for another age/deity; Dionysus or Apollo? A Gaian
dream or the Venusian nightmare, whom do we feed?
Consuming needlessly, heedlessly, we became enamoured
with that consummation, forgetting our own Earth-Mother;
We forget nature, we forego any chance to heal the world.
Instead we'll let runaway greenhouse effect be the death
of our home, we're desecrating Hestia
and soon the hearth will burn out
and shall be forevermore cold.

Sure doesn't the madgod hunger
for an end to his own insanity!
Are we not them and they not
an aspect of our own reflection?

Carl Sagan said we'd need four things to stop this madness:
Efficient use of non-renewables, better use of renewable energy,
Reforestation on a grand scale and self-sufficiency for the poor.

She loves to drive, but fears the
Station where the machine that
Loves her needs to
Fuel up in
Peace before the
Journey
Continues.

As if the ignition is off
Forever.

In light of all the gun violence in the USA,
I'd prefer my democracy unleaded.

Delayed clock
Savio lays underneath unwashed quilts
Grandmother hand made
Savio lays with a woman
“Why are your eyes so Green.”
Savio said to her lips
She had painted them very red
and when they kissed
the lipstick smudged like a charcoal drawing outside in the April rain in Maine
“My eyes flicker green when you kiss me. When you are with me.”
Savio kissed her forehead
It was 1AM
Kansas
Down the street there is a church
the yellowish orange lights are on all night
When Savio buys 3 dollar wine
He walks to the Brick dressed yellowish orange lit Church
Pick up trucks that are thin with metal
rusted at the square gas tank
rusted at the curves of its wheels
rusted at the grill
rusted at the door handles
at the hubcaps
at the bed
at the windshield wipers
at the side view mirrors
at the belt buckles
at the radio dials
at the steering wheels
Flutter by
like children throwing rocks
like Winter
like rain at 7am
Savio sits there
drinking his cold 3 dollar wine
thinking of Mexico
thinking of the magical women he had made love too
kissed
taken out to dinner and lunches and breakfasts
thinking of Long Nights with his brother
Crossing streets with warm bottles of good beer
to Neon lit bars
to bars only lit by cigarettes and tiny radios blasting
Jazz or Rock n' Roll or The Blues or Billie Holiday
Never the news

Savio looked at the woman next to him in his bed
Her eyes were closed
He imagined her closed eye-lids as a moth
With its upright folded gray wings
night
standing underneath the warm breath of a Lamp

Savio liked The Moths
He read about them
He thought of them as the poets
as the painters
as the pianists
as the ballet dancers
as the violinists
of the insects

Savio also liked Boxelder Bugs
they do no harm
they sneak in through the cracks and door openings of homes in winter
They hide underneath sheets of poems
Van Gogh paintings on the walls
Savio woke to a Boxelder Bug on his lips once

The woman that lied with Savio
was beautiful
her clothes were expensive
her body was cruel not to touch
her life was good
Money
***
Beauty
Youth

Savio had none of these
He was handsome
His face was shaded with a few days of hair
His eyes were bright from the many days in the sun as a boy
His eye lashes were long like the docks of rivers from plucking them when he couldnt sleep
Youth was a long time ago for Him
and he sat at parks
watched the kids play
watched Summer
watched April
watched the Roses and the Trees and the Water
grow younger and younger
as He
Stood still as his fingernails grew
and his teeth yellowed by each AM cup of coffee
and each AM cigarette

Savio did not care about Money
he cared about ***, and Beauty, and Youth
yet,
did not wish these upon himself
he
Admired them
like a womans smile
like a Sunrise coasting over a cold morning with white Swans fluttering in the sky
and the Cigarette tastes like purity
and the cigarette has meaning
more meaning than Death
or Life
or being Wise

He admired the woman next to him in bed
he did not feel bad for her
or envy her

He envied on the ease of her sleep
The ease of her happiness
The ease of her
carelessness to beauty
or poetry
or music

He envied the Fools

Savio lied there
Her lips perfectly shaped like clouds
or the designs on a butterfly
or the moon's glow late at night
when the birds are dreaming
when the Dog is fast asleep
when the convict is tired
when the Sun has clocked out
24/7 Sun
like an immigrant

Savio looked at the alarm clock
3AM
the womans Dress and stockings and shoes and Bra and ******* were on the floor
along with her Class Status

Savio has always been poor
He enjoyed it
He liked long days
Reading yesterdays paper that he had found on the road
Counting the numbers of Blue Mini-vans that stop at the red light
He liked going to the park
Climbing a Tree
or sitting at a dock
letting his toes and feet prune
His skin red and the smell of dirt

He liked no Television
He liked his two pairs of pants
His few shirts
His red sweater that his grandmother made him
his pair of shoes
He had a little radio alarm clock
that he had since he was a boy

His father most have stolen it
Given to Savio as a birthday present

His Father was a good man
A bad man facing society
A good man facing his family
He did what he could to get by
He drank

Savio liked to think of himself as a good man
Though he enjoyed the Vices of life
That is why he could never be Religious
Savio was too brave to be told what to do
He was too wild to have his cravings and emotions held down by leather

He liked women
He liked Drinking
He liked cigarettes
He liked Cursing
He liked ***
He liked Humor and Thought about Death
He liked to Fight
He liked to contemplate Life
He liked to contemplate Women
Drinking
Cigarettes
Cursing
***
Humor
Death

Savio
was a good man
He kept to himself
Laughed to himself
walked to bars and parks and highway bridges all to himself

He was a Looker a Searcher a Wonderer a Wanderer

And Life
is a good place to do these things.


Savio got up from his small bed
looked around his small house
opened a small cupboard
grabbed a small coffee mug

Put on his one pair of shoes
Shined them with his old shine shoe case
that his Uncle had given him

He then put on his shirt
it was slightly aged
it was slightly *****
Tho
it was 5AM
and no one would be able too see this

He then put on his jacket
a dark brown swede jacket
it was stained at the shoulder
it was wrinkled
he had spilled gasoline on it last month
and it still had a slight scent of unleaded gasoline
Even though it had rained many times

His pants were strong
They were 5 years old
rough and thick with denim

He felt good
There was no wind being blown
His wine was cold
His eyes were clear
He had a full pack of cigarettes
and a book of matches

This time he walked to the Highway bridge
sometimes on the metal fence
there would be stale roses twisted around the fence

And Savio would pluck them off
dropping them over the highway
onto cars and 18-wheelers headed to Florida

Savio sat at the small cliff
next to the highway bridge
The grass was gold and tall
He took drinks of his wine
slowly the Headlights
turned to Taillights.

Sometimes I wonder why
I write and what the reason is
for breaks and lapses in words
and writing and why I would write
about an Elvis pumping his neon
with unleaded and myself
at the pump across the way
with my eyes fixed on this Elvis
a forty something burnout
with too many relapses
who returns my stare and says
in the most average Elvis voice
"How ya doin"

How am I doin
I think to myself
okay and think about why I write
and why I would impersonate
an impersonator in words
for my own consumption
or for the one person I will have
read this or entertainment
or just a way to get from eleven
to midnight to one in the morning

it seems my dreams
have taken over
my life
I sleep like a dolphin
with one eye open

i saw god
            in the desert
                        huffing gas.

She gets high.
I get high.
She gets drunk.
I get drunk.

I get high.
She spills sapphire.
I get drunk.
She spills unleaded.

She gets high.
She gets drunk.

I get high.
I get drunk.

I slow down for you.
I am a tortoise.

I arrange caution tape
from one dream
to another
until I'm afraid
to remember dreams.

I sit
Watching the trucks pass
These giant unleaded overcompensating
beasts, chewing the ground as they crawl past with robust swollen cancerous testicles hanging off the back
driven by children
These tiny, over privileged, unintelligible
****** bags breathing the good air, breaking the good things and replacing them with *******.

I envy them for their blissful ignorance
As they drive past, nothing on their minds
except ******* and punching.

There was once a girl who observed the little things more than a normal person would do, rather, be capable of.

She paid attention to the rhythm of the tapping of his fingers. One, two, one, one. How there will always be three lines on his forehead whenever those thick eyebrows scrunch. Her fingers itched terribly to touch his forehead, just to take away those creases. It ached her that she can’t. She will at all times notice that same torment in his features whenever he knocks on her balcony door. She knows it’s about his father, drunk yet again. She feels his pain and embraces it. She saw the innocence in his eyes whenever he passes her his cup or food and after she takes a bite, he would eat it again. He didn’t mind if his own food was contaminated by her saliva – this was the thought that would keep her awake all night. Would he mind then if they kissed? She knows his car only runs by unleaded gasoline. She love when he asks for book and song recommendations even though her taste was weird. It jumps from classical to melancholy but he was interested at most and writes down every title she says. She is well aware of how his skin gave off immortality. Whether it was just a teasing poke or a caress that means everything to her.. This too, will leave a mark. She also knows about the tattoo of his sister’s name placed below his collarbones. She came with him when he got it. She’s conscious whenever he comes across anger or how he appears godlike as usual. She appears confident but she was good in faking it. Her soul’s cores are more live than ever. And how he looks at that very girl, the one surrounded with more pretty girls. He asks if she’s okay that he would leave to talk to her. She says she doesn’t mind at all. Go ahead.

He walks to that very girl with luscious fire-red hair and twinkling almond eyes. He gives her a smile she hasn’t seen before. She feels like she’s falling. Only there isn’t a place where she’ll crash down. Just falling. An eternity of it.

The Moon whispers to her, “I chased the Sun down too. Look where we both are, defeated and insane.” His arm snakes around that very girl’s waist. She’s pricked by the thorns of a red rose. All over her body. Slowly in, slowly out. Then again and again.

Ah, the agony of the little things.

Drag me under the car she said
and I said where are your keys?
Pour me a molotov cocktail she said
and I said Another one?
Make the left eye black to match the right she said
and I said Let me get my glove
I'm cold, get me more gasoline she said
and I said Will regular unleaded do?
Move over you're hogging the bed she said
and I said Yeah, Tim give us some room
Do you have anything to bring me down? she said
and I said There's always the fire escape
I still love you she said
and I said How much money do you need?

The cast iron cot frame stood in the garden
At the top left and held the relics of blue
Unleaded paint used to cover a girlish pink
The mattress disintegrated it contained plants
Mother’s cuttings from an extensive garden.

The girl now eleven and very thin
Sat in a homemade embroidered skirt
And played with her unbraided hair
Her feet neatly together like a doll
A teenage doll from The Pedigree range.

The beginning of ******* were forming
And insecurities and dissatisfaction open
That day in the sun with cousin Hilary
Two different specimens of womanhood
I only really knew her a short time .

Love Mary ***

Another day invaded my space in the form of
warm sun rays burning through
my resin stained curtains.

Outside the city awakes town
by concrete laden town until the
whole of the city all hums as one.

Along the edge of the world the Pacific
sits as calm and still as that thick brown
layer of pollution above our heads.

The smell of baked bread makes its way up
the graffiti dressed alley ways and past the
cheap pill box apartment buildings.

The boiling pots of crab send a unseen
signal all throughout this Port side Gem of a town.

The air is once again filled with
diesel and unleaded gas fumes
as the mass grows larger high above our heads.

Someone forgot to separate the
waters from the waters.
Again rain falls as hail somewhere
in the opened sea.

Men and their machines chew up the
highways in both directions.

Some cursing into the wind and others
singing along with some God awful country song.

Cities aren't made to last forever
even Rome had to die in order to be.

I could turn my back on them all and
not miss a beat.

It's the city itself
The city full of Lost Angels, Has Beens, ******
and Godless Gangsters
that won't let me go.

.

In a deflationary period, prices will drop, corporate profits will dry up, wages will shrink, and all of this will reinforce the conditions of recessions. This happens for two reasons.

The first is that deflation keeps money on the sidelines as consumers wait for prices to fall further. This causes demand to shrink.

Deflation also adds to the real value of debt. This makes consumers and businesses less likely to take out loans and make big purchases to grow the U.S.'s consumption-driven economy.

And deflation runs counter to the goals of most of the world's central banks. Most notably, the U.S. Federal Reserve.

"Central bankers want inflation so they can pay back inflated debt in cheaper dollars," said Money Morning Capital Wave Strategist Shah Gilani.

But as we start 2015, deflation has arrived. Just check out these four deflation indicator

1. Falling crude oil prices
2. Falling commodity prices

     Heating oil futures are down 47%.
     Natural gas futures are down 36%.
     Copper futures are down 24%.
    Unleaded gas is down 23%.
    Soybean oil is down 15%.
    Wheat futures are down 11%.
    Corn futures are down 8%.

     The other two I read somewhere but they were cut off in this article.                              I will have to look.

Behind the wall three lads hovered
with intent on stealing petrol.
Ever ready to take rather than pay
it was more than two pounds!
For just a single litre of unleaded
could it be jail they were headed.

Not new at this dangerous business
risking not only being caught.
But the chance it could catch fire
they didn't care it was free
Fancy paying that much for car fuel
stealing now that was cool.

Motorists sruggling to fill their tanks
the cost was far too high!
But the government kept putting it up
the gangs adding to the misery.
As the population began to really tire
their patience about to expire!


A time comes when the limit is reached
the human spirit is breached!
To much is taken with little given back
then society is on an unsafe track!

Criminals always ready to con and steal
the public always losers in the deal!

The Foureyed Poet.

Wade feeling around Jess' waist.
• ******
• Heat
• Wedding ring
○ Tucked away
87 unleaded
& Tuesday ham.

law
in new agreement england will be returning to unleaded fuel rather than electric cars. vauxhall will be able to continue manufacturing petrol. it is my belief that unleaded fuel is more eco friendly than battery cars which are 4 times as dangerous to ecology. this is because the battery car will burn peoples blood in the end. any one using a battery car will be allowed to continue for now but people need to know the truth

I remember when I used sit back
My Ol man used to push it in a Cadillac
Clean with the Royce grill
And quick to make ya blood spill
Out for the ****
I later learned how to deal
My mind focused tryna reach a mill
Ion got a five thousand dolla medallion
Keep cutie on my wrist bad *** stallion
Black Chinese and Italian
Is here mix hittin licks
**** that ******* got me almost bent
But gotta shake off this love spell
Cuz I'm all about my yeyo
Boats by the sail sailin through hell
As my trunk wave
Side to side
Keep ya distance
Cuz I got ******* in the back of my ride


Check out it's that Mr Yosef
Kin to Lucifer a rebel
And no stopping me
I'm coming down reppin the Brown streets
Packin heat like a dessert
And I'm shooting so muthaphukkaz
Can hurt doin dirt
Putting in work see the beautiful perks
I made out of pushing dope
Now everybody on my team making cream
No haters could intervene
I'm on the scene
Gotta give it up to my homie watts
Makin dope beats puffin sweet
And the boogie don't stop
Check my four hop make a *** stop
Fillin up like a super unleaded
Fill up her gas tank down the *****
Then commence to mix a drank
Got the prometh and the sprite I'm in a lean wayy back makin stacks
Now how my grip slide
Chill cuz I got******* in the back of my rideee

Tomorrow is your birthday, her birthday, his birthday.
It's thinning this suit of reddened skin. Boy-nails are never
As sharp as they need to be. Toxins don't work fast enough either.
5:00a.m. stop for premium unleaded just outside of Big Sur. Once you were in the devil in a Jaguar, leather biker jacket and a crown of gold.
Mused to be. The insides of the stomach must have claw marks by now.
Panting, misstepping, riddled with whys and whens.

Time is critical, yellow or black nail polish; signature colors. May minutes be returned and reused where aching poison ails but does not deliver. Tomorrow is your birthday and maybe you'll allow for the cleaning of ***** from your hair and the body crooked, lingering over your night-terrors with cool and wet cloths.

This is some tremendous furnace of unrecoverable agony. There is no use chasing the wheat. Into a bunker or hurrying the footsteps into the sea. Ghosts of humans trawl the flesh entombed in permanent suffering. And the men and women glue themselves to its familiarity and melancholy.
So many great hopes were **** into one hand and ******* into a folded over pillow. We are too old to have Fraggles living in our ears.
May my chest explode before tomorrow unless you would unvex the curse who devours language and desire and all these hours.

Why would I settle to just nap by the willows?
I want take part in unleaded thrills
because I have hand for my holsters gun
steady at the barrel
pinpoint the enemy
prepared for my grandest demise.

I’m setting sail out to sea
An oceanic storm of fractured pavement and unleaded gasoline
Because when you’re trying to break free
Of unwavering routines
You take the high road to a new life
And the road feels timeless
With its own mind
In an instant
Your world can change from calm to madness
Like being under water
Can’t break through the surface
reaching upward
Which one are you drinking:
The water or the wave?
And you think -what brought you here?
Trapped below the surface
Because although you can’t get out
The water is still clear
The gravels hardness
And the oceans fluidity
Out here you are alone
No friends no family
And you fear your ship is sinking
What would you do?
You guessed:
Surrender to the sea?
Because there were never any life vests  
The salt in the ocean
the salt in these cuts
Unwavering pressure
Of this heart pumping blood
I’m lost out in the infinite sea
And yet it’s softly rocking me to sleep

botswana has advised waiting to receive first gift of a concorde. the agreement is to station at dalton in south africa until north up to speed with customs considered safe internationally. i would like north africa to accept uk help in securing safer air flight areas in africa for everyone.

hebrew in south africa has asdvised happy to accept our ‘free market’ 1%in 1%out for mango for uk france and china and also north africa. kim has agreed with me to export olive  oil to uk china and france from italy. kim also authorises all mango from africa to italy on ‘free trade’ 1% 1% agreement.

nigeria advises they are doing well with the hippo madame who was extradited from china due to wallowing problems at quoi. nigeria says madame is the most beailutiful hippo ive ever seen except when she decides the area is not long enough for her to bathe.

please remember shah of iran did deal for oil at 68p per litre diesel all around the world for 1000 years. he is such a lovely guy. he advises he has enough stock for a million years so the world can relax.

please note electric car will shortly be banned as unsafe in uk france and china. unleaded fuel is better than being frazzled in your electric car.

other news
i spoke to president of france and it was agreed france would not have opening to fish on uk waters as we have 4 million phoenetians who have moved to uk and when we looked at the figures there were enough fish in french waters for all the fishermen in france to gain wealth.

on a positive note when i advised the problem is we think the french hate us he advised they dont hate uk as much as everyone else which i found consoling. i have offered complete china airforce support to france if they are ever attacked.

choo has agreed he’d like deal with china but agrees it needs to be areas where chinese workers would not be threatened. fwoah dream  puts balance of weight of decision on all trade based upon number of jobs it would create. remember china moving towards shorter hours for workers.

She was perusing the linoleum trails when I walked into conoco gas at 6:49. I bought $20 of unleaded at pump three.
"I miss my jeep, but I sure don't miss the gas mileage"
she giggled from behind me with a filmy grocery bag bracleting her wrist. He name was Kiyomi, a Japanese citrus. "When my mom was pregnant with me, that's all she would eat. She joked that she'd give birth to a fruit instead of a baby."
She told me she plucked her shirt from the hamper when I complimented her outfit, and about her "**** neighbors" with whom she shared a complex. I made an excuse for the dirt sponging my shirt and tattooing down my legs. "It's from landscaping", I said as a way to somehow justify it. I felt like I'd known Kiyomi a long time when we said goodbye.  
With a half tank of gas, I started up Genevieve and we rolled off our opposite ways. It was as I walked up and down King Sooper's ribs of commercial aisles that I was so grateful to Kiyomi, the fruit girl. She showed her humanness to me. We hung up our social normalities like jackets, and spoke in the unfabricated way children do. Friday, June 3rd, roughly 6:53 pm, a girl of soil and a girl of fruit collided in connection. Like it was natures very own conversation.

Prophecy III -. "Sixth, Resilience ..."

"They were on the perimeter trying to keep me united to their order, I go every day for his pantry, food, groceries, bookstore supplies and ink, oils and other essences for the environment in continuous handwritten obedience, I have to leave for Skala where some people who have ordered bring Gricos and Psili Ammos materials to project your home, If this has been written this way, it is because my placidity of walking has written it, in the company of the one who has written for the one who walks with me!

They always asked me why mention why I have to do this for them ... I will tell you that I used to serve leaders who consolidate Hellenic geography, without them everything would have been invaded by unleaded foreign hands ...in that rest, I have to attend for the preceding verse ... which says that we have already entered where I intend to argue the following ...Resilience and exhortation that from the beginning I have taken since it began ... now I will abide and lecture your messages on a very predominant note, I was Commander Hoplita of the Falange and Hetairoi, now a Christian who does not dispute to live a life of obedience to those who are not and are not without their martyrs ... like that people to whom God swore, they will not enter into my rest in whose amen the verse will be preached in a passive voice!

Stay as the verb indicates with the actual facts, the word
independent of the present, independent of who and when ...
Saint Gabriel my Abrahamic angel will give me white strength and romped lilies like baskets of hermaphrodite lilies procreating only begotten forests on the altar.

Remain upright on the Abrahamic campfire without mittens or shields, rethink your beloved woman and take a sharp step to heal your wounds there is so much grass to cut and so much poetry to chew ... from up on the mountain towards Skala at night after drinking wine Epitrapezios Inos setting fire with harmless saffron atmosphere lips of fire and bread, for a good offensive fight.

Dawn united with deep disorder
Give the color that your day deserves to have as a constellation
with the image that rests in your angular and poly-calloused hands. holding back spaces of loss more than all the centuries that waited for the minimum incense to a good warrior, sweet wine for bleeding open wound not his ... thunder that conceals baptisms in all hearts empty of blood ...

As Vernarth prayed in his oracle, he feels a thunderous supra sound As if the gates of hell had been opened ...
As if millions of angels seconds were scattered from heaven
To reduce more seconds of silence to the finest pleading eardrum
A few days ago I saw a ghost that was chopping wood ...
I couldn't realize it was really Him I also saw him cutting thousands of volumes from a library ... Also not realizing I saw several, like more than eighty manuscripts of encouragement that they still did not prosper in the hands of Saint Mark ...

It feels like a gigantic door slam again ...!
again it was the angels that were coming
right now on his return… but now on his return
they were climbing in and out of the Eden garden. ”

Vernarth, evicted from the habit of the unknown, was apprehended by his crafts, he continued to be attentive to being received by Saint John. The longer it took to wait for an audience, he did not postpone what his memory pointed out to be more than an experience plotting capacities in the face of his own limitations. From that moment on, a gigantic door is felt again! The angels who went back one after the other with their burnished masonry cloaks repeated…, but now making the garden of Eden their own,… being theirs in their own, that they would be in the house of a wise gardener of Eden perhaps being the same manger from Katapausis at once!

Raeder says: hugging her profusely! time has to go in flight like the little angels, having them next to us as companions of time what is left over in their wings giving it to your all enjoy living and feeling lost in you without finding it. ! Khaire my Vernarth!, I have some karidopitas with walnuts and yogurt accompanied by baklava with nuts of delicious syrup from Kalymos. Petrobus jumped for joy and flapped like a hummingbird to steal a few pieces! Eurydice and Vernarth did the same. That night they told militia tales while they ate the bites, so they fell asleep as if it had been the first time they had fought such a great menu.

Eurydice assists in the same with her fresh clean face, creating an atmosphere of conciliation to renew the dream of a day that will dawn close to its awakening away from the criminals. Vernarth takes his staff thereafter and divides the books and manuscripts into two parts, so he would have time to take steps to really feel like he can walk close to Saint John.

Sometimes,
I sit and wonder
is my brain wired
in the wrong way.

I'm working all day
on weird word play,
using premium unleaded
instead of the previously embedded
stinking repeated
cliches no one needed.

Watered down con artists
feed men
outdated whines,
have them *******
diluted delusions
and fractured facts
that don't add
up to good math.

I'm not a beast that beats
better techniques.
I’m the man who eats
whatever he reads
to replete my muse’s muscles
with the protein she needs
along with her emotional greens,
and random natural fruity scenes,

but there are not enough nutrients
to save me from the atrophy of
humanity’s inability to grow and love.

Fifth commandment breached regularly
epidemic of gun violence in America
bullets fly, scream and tear into flesh
senseless rampant mass killings
rip across fabric of society
buzzfeeding, jump/kickstarting,
paradigm of mortality.

Since January first
two thousand and twenty three
countless innocent people lost lives
deliberately, yet randomly targeted
shot dead at point blank range
merely going about
their ordinary business.

No clear cut motive nor profile
delineates active shooter(s),
who could be either (or any) gender
and range in age
from grade school to septuagenarian.

The latest homicides woo,
and appease the grim reaper,
where gunman(men)/women slew
***** deeds done dirt cheap
many baker's dozen innocent people
unknowingly and unwittingly drew
(rather gurgled) their last breath
choking on splintered blood vessels
beckoning, issuing, and twittering minimal
horrific animal primal gasps and groans.

Adversarial criminal minds
finds yours truly to interject
reasonable parenthetical rhyme without reason,
thus I temporarily tack tangentially offtrack
with cogent concise contemplation
to extemporize, lyricize, and soliloquize
brutal nasty senselessness
perpetrated courtesy fearsome
half cocked pistol packing maniacs,
whereby evils unrelentingly replaying nightmare
(exceeding cruelty by magnitudes administered

courtesy rocky horror picture show)
of gruesome carnage broadcast across
social media platforms
of killing fields anew,
in the minds of those unfortunate souls
who bear witness to deadly crime,
where odd stark juxtaposition
elicit skeletal goldenrods yellowed stalks
adrip with morning mountain dew
encompassing fresh footprints,
where berserk humans

prowling in the tall grass
(them of naked ape infamous
zoological niche) lately trod
in search of human prey
welcomed unsuspecting killer(s) true
colors transformed into hideous monsters
predictably soothing savage beasts
undertakers grisly task patching
shredded bodies after homicidal maniac
fired bullet(s) setting corpse
recalibrating counting queue.

As month one of new year
(according to Chinese tradition
water rabbit constitutes animal de jure)
allows, enables, and provides
brisk business for crematoriums
or funeral parlors.

Whether native American citizen
or foreigner (perchance student) slain
survivors bereave and issue final adieu,
whether gentile nor Jew,
perhaps including
child named Caillou
instantaneously slain, who
knew
not what felled them
engrossed amidst social ballyhoo

ex post facto registering grievous hue
pallbearers accentuating somber view
eclipsing most recent prior massacres
similar to previous you
ululations reverberate yesterday's sorrows
without handy dandy blue's clue
lame motive explaining
cold blooded slaughter
vis a vis unsurprising discover re:
firearms Jane/ John Q.

Public kept stashed loaded, deployed...
guns up the kazoo
cocked, gauged, primed...
for unleaded opportunity
to unleash barrage
invariable generating hullabaloo
to curb ****** violence
trumpeting predictable brew
ha ha alloyed against National
Rifle Association almighty

elephant in the room courtesy hathi howdah  
supported lobbyist's motley crew
(think three ring circus)
versus increased uproar
protesters chorus nearly few
tile opposition pitted grand Poobah
despite alarming statistics shew
plus increasing fresh gravesites dug
amidst freshly mowed fescue
attesting to wanton shell shocked
headlines indiscriminate brew

tilly assaulting sensibilities
without rhyme nor reason
yet, yours truly doth boo
leave rampant hatred
directly linkedin to
former "FAKE" commander in chief,
(biden his time as patient hunter)
whose acrid, horrid, rabid vitriol
still darkly colors political hue
man gushing ****** fountainhead few

ming and appreciable frothing
lathers up right wing supremacists
greenlighting smoldering new
bile radicals hot headed
volatile mindset whereby
self anointed anarchistic Guru
possibly fuels global warming
evidenced by displaced Inuits
flooding courtesy melting igloo.

Yup
I sobered up
despite expressing regular
(unleaded and unlettered)
urge to shtup
expunged courtesy
system of a down
with shuga (mush)
and everything nice.

The following crafted some time ago,
when empty nest syndrome
pulled me psyche taut
analogous to an outstretched bow
yet the shadow of mine eldest
of two adult charming progeny,
would be aghast and crow
against her papa posting erotica
elucidating, jumpstarting, parading
adventures of his sorry excuse for *****
cuz he (yours truly)
nearly wrecked marriage

cavorting, gallivanting, lapping
residual womanly exudations
analogous to volcanic Earthflow
witnessing (at mere auto suggestion
of Barenaked ladies bliss,
albeit short lived),
how agnst riddled Pepé Le Pew (mine)
did bulge, expand and  grow
a measly wienerschnitzel
inducing Jolly Green Giant to guffaw
with a hearty **... **... **.

Ever since deux darling daughters
dearly departed dada
for distant horizons where
unknown opportunities
beckon, mine emotional state
like a sinusoidal wave doth veer
above n below this imaginary
cerebral Maginot/Mason
Dixon line me bit size uber Uighur
village people segregated

to a patch of sterile ground
invisible fenced in o’er there
essentially the analogy (if vague)
constitutes a figurative dichotomy
of selves mind canst share
without psychological
tectonic shifts that evoke me
to drift within the continent of Matthew rare
lee ever able, eager n ready to allow, enable
n provide peace of mind –

which doth seem queer
yet to the outside observer
no evident of me
self experiencing wrenching
disequilibrium hup pear
while inside this har noggin o mine
near collisions sans
microscopic airplanes at mine O’hare
interleaved gray matter reactivate
an out of control maelstrom
evidencing as panic attack near

thine thinking plain tarmac expressions
per empty nest syndrome akin
to a foal seeking his/her mare
occasioning this papa to take comfort
in ma man cave lair
cause feeling discombobulated
would invite lookers on to jeer
helter skelter mental state zigzags
defying prediction from Kare
11 (Owned by Tegna Inc.,
the station maintains studios

on Olson Memorial Highway
in Golden Valley and a transmitter
at the Telefarm site
in Shoreview, Minnesota station –
google if ya hear
doubt firing inside yar own
wheels, cogs and functioning gear)
though that philosophical strand
goes off track sans this flair
up of internal distress –

natural after shocks whence e’er
beguiling, charming, doting,
entertaining temptations
(within the fifth dimension) to dare
their nubile bodies to bump up
against (figuratively) clear
indications of autonomy,
dichotomy, globally nascent blare
ring femininity, levity,  reproductively…
within the eth air.