Countdown to Armageddon precariously hinges
   potential apocalypse outcome, mere smattering days away
if the brazen, fierce-some dragon doth don
   trumps presidential throne -
   ships with whistling  Dixie missiles at bay
will be synchronized with aerial bombardiers
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
   to parlay a view to unleash nuclear weapons on cue
destroying a vast swath of flora and fauna,
   and most life forms (inn oh cent), but pay hefty due
to assuage the aggressively cruel, enjoyably
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
   growling at his goalie indubitably
   kick *** mindset worse than dengue fever will ensue
a combustible domino effect fueling global horror -
   analogous to kindling tinder logs smoke
   the color - jetblue streaming up fireplace flue
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
witnessing sovereign magnum opus trans
   forming much of animal and plant life into flakes of goo
far scarier than any macabre production
   dreamt up by human frightful scenario and no hero
she ma to rescue self or other from deadly debacle,
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
   nor any safe haven such as a cool igloo
forsooth complete annihilation will far surpass
   any prior world war, no one will be spared,
   neither gentile nor Jew
which total mortal kombat, and attendant laying waste
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
   organisms livingsocial instantaneously cremated,
   where ashes spread dispersed faster than Kudzu
rendering world wide web fetid, offal, and putrid
   far more noxious than the common loo
yet even this general description falls short to where mew
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
tinny sans hardy species (according to Google search);
   such as tardigrade, mummichog, and cockroach
decimating, heaving, leveling, poisoning
   every cubic inch of Earth evincing voluminous vaporization
   extant eradication emphatically nixed, punctuated, and radiated
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
   pulverization eviscerating the bowels of mankind,
   where nary a survivor could weather and withstand
   hollowed out no mans land bereft of sustenance or water
   where seeds of white lily when coalescence
   of oblate spheroid birthed, nursed, and weaned new
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
life especially proto **** sapiens
   and subsequent kin grunting with ah and oew
fast tracked primates, yet inherent within genetic coda
   (perhaps poison ingredient bubbled
  within primordial soup) - steeped quantum mechanical pew
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
tar nation housing crucible-
   analogous to planetary size mortar and pestle) queue
sans predestination, where rue
brick, dogma, and fealty honoring justice slew
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
by paws of one cancerous, fractious and idolatrous Lothario,
   who opened Pandora Box (rigged shut tight) thorough
lee rendered civilization a footnote
   of cosmological history and universal view
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
BUT.... eligible voters can choose alternate
   (Democratic) candidate -
   the majority will exhale a collective gustatory whew
and allow, enable and provide continuance of the human zoo!

It was the year 2121. There was only four of us who actually remained together. It was me, Hotbox, which is a name I picked up due to my father. He was a boxer who then became a firefighter in his later years. I was half human and half metal. I worked at a place where we customized engines for flying cars before it went out of business. Crisis on oil similar to that of the past decades was still prevalent in future times. One of the engine parts we received from the Colony in Outer Space had a defect and it exploded upon arrival. It left me feeling like I was Johhny from Johnny Got His Gun. I nearly lost my hearing, sight, speech, a chunk of my heart and many of my bones and limbs disintegrated. During the time I was hospitalized, many special doctors took care of me. Many of them supers themselves spoke to me telepathically. I was given a new body armor made of Tantalum, a metal that often replaces platinum and is very efficient for implants and coatings in the medical field. But enough about me. There’s FrostFyre, a girl I met at a superhero convention. I had a super crush on her. She was born in an artificial planet called Brone that no longer exists due to an unexpected shutdown. She was able to absorb the energy from the explosion which allowed her to be stronger than the citizens of her planet. The disaster caused her family to relocate to one of the Colonies in planet Earth. Fyre could change the temperature of the flames that she fired and could potentially freeze-burn her opponents. Her fire was hotter than the center of the sun. We had two best friends who also happen to be fraternal twins, they're names are Sloe and Slic. Sloe had the ability to fly, teleport, and slow time down which consisted of making everything appear to be paralyzed. Slic on the other hand had super speed and would one day travel faster than light. After the Third World War in 2095, several hydrogen bombs were dropped all over the world, almost everything had vanished. There were no more skyscrapers, no more Mount Everest, no more Niagara falls, no more pyramids in what’s left of Egypt, and no more overly saturated Earth full of humans. The human population was at about 11.2 billion at the end of the century according to the United Nations. After the nuclear warfare episodes, the known population dropped to 3 billion. It became the duty of the Heroes of the Colony to take hold of the Earth. With the rise of enemies of the colony, the world was now in the hands of evil.

“It’s time to light up and take flight!”, shouted Fyre. It was easy for her to say. She was born with the ability to produce fire by herself. After my accident I was struggling with feeling like I wasn’t even human anymore.

“How hot is Lava?” Slic said.

We were standing at the rim of the largest human-made volcano to ever exist. Lava was a villain that was threatening to erupt the volcano in where she dwelled in. Sloe was using her powers to slow the process down, but Lava used her powers to speed up the eruption.

“Lava can reach temperatures of 1,600 degrees Fahrenheit to up to 2,000.” Sloe replied.

“No smartypants, I mean is she good looking?” Slic replied.

“We have to go in the lava and attack her from where she is standing,” Fyre said in a very calm voice. She and I knew that my armor material had a melting point up almost 2,500 degrees so we couldn't risk it. The lava's temperature was increasing at an alarming rate as the seconds passed. If any of the lava seeped through the pores of my armor, my body could instantly be vaporized.

“What if you go in instead?” I said.

If Fyre went in to swim in the lava she would be more safe than me. Her body was made from a material found in the distant home-planet she comes from. Lava's body in the other hand was still human-like. She was not susceptible to the lava she produced or lived in but perhaps a nuclear explosion could vaporize her for good. The vaporization would occur so quickly that Lava would simply cease to exist. The nervous system that sends pain signals to the brain would be gone quicker than the speed in which signals reach the brain.

This was a moment of chaos. There was enough happening in what was left of the world. The people that lived under the fear and control of Lava would die due to being exposed to the lava even if several feet away. The magma of the volcano was very vicious at this point and sloe could not do much about it. Fyre was getting ready to detonate as she stood at the center of the rim. She does this by going into a fetal position as she floats in midair.

There was a sudden flash in the sky. A voice said, “Prepare for flight!”

It was the Navigator. He was here to teleport us to May 31st, 2095. It was a Tuesday afternoon and we were at a diner in a floating city. There was a lot of commotion around us and it felt as if  the Flight of the Bumblebee was playing in the background.

“Sorry, wrong date.”

We quickly teleported to the day before, a Monday and I hated Mondays but we were still at the diner and I was having a chocolate milkshake so it wasn't so bad. There were so many people looking at the sky as they cried, helpless and hopeless. The bombs were being dropped. The navigator asked Sloe to slow everything down. In the moment of panic there was peace. We enjoyed milkshakes and talked about how to save the world as we were the only ones talking in real time. Slic ran back home to get his video camera and he started recording as the first bomb reached grounds. A few seconds later everything was white.

I think this was the first (and only) nervous breakdown I’ve ever had. I was nineteen.



The noises from the plane were terrifying enough to wake me up. My relaxed heart started racing, and I thought of a late-night bomb attack, via some middle-eastern country, which would bring war. I clutched the blankets to my chest, and expected the dooming flash of light which would instantly take my life through vaporization. After several minutes of laying tense yet catatonic in my bed, my late-night delirium began to slowly fade. Whether it was one plane or several, I know not. I just remember hearing the horrible ripping noise echo through the sky by my window and I instantly awoke. Were the planes this loud every night? Why did I never notice? Perhaps I restarted my sleep cycle and being back in level one, the loud noise frightened me. But did that mean that if these planes did indeed roar, every night, that I always slept through them? It seemed very unlikely. I cautiously checked my phone to inform myself of what time the war had started. Three-eleven a.m. How depressing. Why would an enemy attack in the middle of the night when everyone is asleep? What cowardice. Why would an enemy attack at all? Why would we have an enemy? As my paranoia faded and my fatigue crawled back, I went to the bathroom. I figured if I were to die, I wouldn’t want the finders of my body to think me gross for soiling myself with the tea I drank right before bedtime. As I sat on the toilet and released the pressure, the pressures of life invaded. I looked up to the sky-light in my bathroom and decided tonight would not be the night where I was killed while sleeping by a late-night plane of an enemy, but if it were to happen, I’d have no control whatsoever. Sadness struck me as I envisioned myself being robbed of motherhood, still and unaware at nineteen-years old. I thought again of the planes, and while they no longer seemed threatening, I wondered what caused them to rip across the sky in such force. It seemed destiny had spared me that night, but would it always? June was a non-war month anyways; I should relax, enjoy the summer and keep caution for autumn and winter. Those are war seasons, when wars began. The night was still once more, but I felt completely drained—the way one feels when descending from a *******-high. I straightened my blankets, rolled onto my side into a comfortable position and squeezed my eyes shut trying to hold back tears.

Silent, unexpected ripples
As the first flakes softly alight on the lake,
A crisp inhale with eyes closed
Followed by a joyous vaporization of cloud.
When vision flutters back into focus,
A spectacle ever-more lovely than the last.
The muffled crunching around the trail,
near-muted chattering of chipmunks,
windy flurries whistling then growing placid,
the softened screech of a hawk
subdued now to an awed whisper -
Mounting and falling like a Debussy.
Clearer and more humbly triumphant
than cathedral bells.

This suite - this bright panorama
Shows me to the brink of an elation within
And brushes my crystalline spirit.
It sings and I overflow -
Light pours drop by rapturous drop
From each eye.

My head is a warzone in itself.
Sometimes there's no victors.
Sometimes there is.
I hate to convince myself that i must confide
A amoeba that's restricting me so i can abide
There's no true purpose in where i hide
And taking unnecessary sides
I just want something tasty on my side
Nothing too dazzling
But that's exactly how i describe myself
And i want to run it away
Not so it can come back another day
I tend to be vociferous
And it irritates me
Why can i have a mind that entices the thought and not berate it?
I feel disjointed, jaded
Far from elated
Somehow my reinforcements become instant vaporization
Nothing adds up to a stimulation
What was i put here for?
To quarrel, to entrench myself with misery?
I need something to distract
Keep me in humble tact
Busy
As a bee
But i don't want to sting
Or the frivolous bling
Why can't i figure it out?
Nobody can for me
As easy as that pleases the ear
I must adhere
To my own belligerent madness
And find some sanity in it
It's a unembellishing feeling.

time seems to pass
in spurts.
some days take for ever,
others are infinite from the start.
Rules and reasons for commas and
periods where entire thoughts screech….
to a crash, hit the wall
and bounce
ellipsis-missed stuttering futures all flash
in a wink,
we think
better to wander among lines integral to life,
than those that tie our hearts to the lie,
the big one, thou shalt not
surely
die. A subtle metaphor for ceasing to be
all you think,
in your core, where courage faces curiosity
by way of the oddly bent nerve carrying
intention to a tongue…

say, hey
the idea of anti-locks, for slowing the selahity--
ABS- fixes that --
those locked-up brakes scenes, in dreams
where you are about to hit the wall,
these days those are
set in the genes, like falling from trees,
you notice,
you never hit the surface.
You always wake in a nearly identical reality,
as when you last passed from awake and aware,
to
sleep, maybe with dreams, as it seems
there is no total recall, after.

Today we face the future, again
we imagine we
know many common things that everybody
knows, as bodies are
by nature, complicated things. More
complex than reason allows, thus

the urge
to slow the motion imagined, scrunch
each sphincter on the chakra ladder …
jah, wu wu, come up here, bunkuum bi yall,
be a me and thee, hooked to a book
swallowed whole,
when it ought to have been chewed real,
all your life, cha cha cha;
you been thinking this is how if feels, if, yes,
to be just right.
Just fine, thank you.
Fine, technical granularity in the meta data
of life, arranged in time and chance
to dance in an idea all minds name beauty,
poetry and song,
all flow into the lowest valley
where, today, we wake and
find a slew of beautiful ideas malingering,
I say I
know
that ain't so. The pond where those old knowns
were settled has dried,
due to the dams, but we can look up river
along the meandering course all flows carve.

We can find where those bemired beautiful thoughts
sprang from the first fully myelinated frontal cortex,
capable of gramary. Enchantmental
{magic-tech intuitive spelchek}
hexes and spells that repeat the effect
in gestures and words, once known
to have made axe heads float,
and fishes to multiply,
and vast armies to die at the river,
laying down sword and shield,
shrugging off the mantle,
leaving Sisyphus to keep things rolling,
-------------------
whole armies, flags to bedraggled ******
in the rereward, muttering incanticles,
we have over come,
we have reached beyond the grasp
of all our knowers,
yet they lie, for a living, to live in the lie.
Knowers who settle
in a slew of beautiful ideas,
un beknownst to them, the misery of e
vaporization
spiritualized truth, sealed in idle words,
deemed good for nothing
until these days,
this day, perhaps your first
aware
of waking with one, only, uno, uni
verse as long as life,
per se.
---------------------

As we ramble on, branching,
ever, where the pressure within pierces
the field opposing…
what
am I worth as a word writer compared
with Coleridge' the addict,
whose story lacked the wonderings of Cain-
for
Wordsworth, lacked the knack,
of knowing Cain,
murderer in the first instance, ere degrees
had words to make sense of them.
Not knowing the story,
the idea
left these novice evil thinking boys snared
by a musement of the classical
spiritual sort, either real
or fantasy, we call it
art, intuitively being attractive
to the curiosity
living in the knowing being -- you know,
you say you
tasted the Son and knew at once,
goodness,
in a word holds truth in a way,
we feel
touching each chakra, if you stop to feel,
each valve clampt to hold the surge,
urging up up up to
fill the face with bright acknowledgement,
mental
acting as known in a whatifery sense,
tasted, felt, not seen not heard in words
roger, acknowledgment sent.
ditty dum.
Free verse is worse than what,
would you say? Given a will that is wild
by nature, as you imagine nature
being, a force in physics that goes bio,
then logical,
logos
lives on as long as any knower wishes to know.
- Crime of the mariner?
he shot the albatross for the reason…
I can, I did not know of the link
to generations in the morrow,
twixt the twisted
real real alone alone as though a spell,
seeps from the story,
held with glittering eye, strange pow'r of speech
I know the man that hears me,
yes.
You know as well.

------------------

Time loops and worm holes,
time and again
the story follows plot to points we knew were
coming soon,
end of
all that was, then
this is new, reset, next level, literal game of life.

Grown out of all the dung counted
worth the recollection.
Yea doubtless,
and I count all things
but loss
for the excellency
of the knowledge
of Christ Jesus my Lord:
for whom I have suffered the loss
of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ

Wait a minute. that was a quote. "Winning" Christ is where
I draw the line…
tell me, if I know the truth, and the affect is liberty,
that is excellent knowledge,
Paul and I agree,
but what's to win, bro? Where is winning done, once
the destroyers works were destroyed?

That is the story under the headline of the ages,
It is finished, say witnesses at the event.
The Gospel is back, set in second coming Times Roman.
We won, peace on earth, good will to all who
take the grace as granted and ask what good can now be done.
We won, said the anonymous peacemaker.
We used the knowledge of good and evil, through deep
sapient
simple conditioning, over eons,
augmenting mental effort here and there with a genius off
the charts
odd
measurable in minds that imagine infinity is impossible.

In the early 1980s, Nobel laureate Paul Dirac
told Princeton University theorist Ed Witten
that the most important challenge in physics was
“to get rid of infinity.” 

From <https://www.americanscientist.org/article/tackling-infinity>

-- Disneyifity, wishery wu, to infinity and beyond

New times, new tropes, lose  slay-the-dragon,
loose distribute-the-hoard, hope to shout,
it all works out, and Jesus
fixes every thing…
someday
soon. Soon. Many sons, wombed and un, no diff.
on earth as in heaven… always answered,
nicht wahr? Immer so, amen.

Or is ask and ye shall receive,
speaking of the signal to reset your mind.
To get past infinity as a physical problem
that mortals must solve.
But what will happen to our craft?,
hear the institution groan.
What in deed, February 2021.
That passed and you barely noticed.
Not much changed among the Promise Keepers
crop of Christian Warriors marching,
as to war, with carnal weapons at the ready.

Now, as you may see, on TV, is the time to sow,
seed faith, {prove me now, pay and pray}
Yes -
All the riches to the glory of God,
building the Kingdom Now, for a while,
as it built the fabled Oral Roberts Disciples Network
of Kenneth Hagen clones clad in Lutheran sheepskins,
hiding scapula knit from Iberian goats
whose hair, twisted to itchy yarn,
made the shirt of several martyrs,
for whom towns and universities are named.
Such secret scapula
remind the faithful, fame is worth any price,
pre-pay shorten your stay,
puke
and now functions as advertised to envoke
itching to die for a try to win Christ,
by killing the enemy we love,
for Jesus… who
sent {SYTF} the comforter, to soothe the itch,
to break the bubble shaped like a tetrahedron,
for some phosphoric oomph, spilling
the golden oil -similar to the effect Aaron felt
poured on his head, dripping from the corners of his beard.

{there is legend of a prayer:
Abba forgive those who know not what they do,
I confess there was a flaw in the nature of man,
I came to fix it, and I did. Amen}

Bless me, must I know the meaning
of every thing I ever say?
Is there no easy way?

Look up. Yes, anything you wish to know,
seek and find, weigh with care,
find the measure of this to that, eventually all
leads to ever, but not hell.
Actual consciousness faints long before hell
is realer than men have made punishment.
------------
Cancel this variable with that probable, consider-ate
conscience, desider-ate desciency in constancy
- set the standard at good -
C is something other than imagined, thus
at Feynman's suggestion we swept infinity
under the rug.

Knowing all things,
It'll blow your mind.
Unsafe at any speed, be lief is the re lief…
bileave, one source claims is a noun, not an act,
a state of mind, bounded by
"confidence reposed in a person or thing;
faith in a religion…"
{granularity of substance assumed}
We can hope.
But that's after all sorts of lies have come to life
as institutions to shelter the meek from the greedy,
who then must wear this dread atop-- your's, yes
your head, wears the dread subjecting
all you know to ******* in service
of the Authorized Truth;
remember hell is as real as any place you may imagine,
given years of proper education
in the liturgy of survival
during next.
---------- seal it.
{Same yesterday, today and ever after - forever
is so ambiguous- }

--------
Gnathite seaton, right - that means
bug lips, no I was thinking Know thyself
in Latin or something
aca-deme-ware-ish, to push a button on
the whole truth
and nothing but - beginning as  belief released
as an act of will,
accepted that in this bubble
each emotion has
cause and stands accussed,
with a touch of pride
to expand the contention confidence and convening
event
soothing the rippling surface on the ocean of opinions
'pon which we bob
up and down.

Bait-taken signal to pull back on the tug,
set the hook,
feel the yelp and then the anger, of a fish
I wish
were that magic one, I never really caught.

-- I laugh, in disbelief, relieved of lying metaphors,
miss-labeled cans of worms from experiences
not common in unalienated minds.

------------------

------------

In the realm of recommending AI,
the pro
stitutes told the institutes ***
sells and sells and sells, but smack holds
their loyalty, violence
givem hell,
makem pay seven times seventy,
each child a slayer of his ten thousands,
-watcher set-
pay attention to the empath,
watch it cringe,
at
something words fail to convey, temptation
to defy a lie locking ignorance in place,
never wishing
to know all things
to prove a prophecy, such,
is only tempting if time is a factor
in the dis
cussing of certain concepts regarding the after effect
of an anointing on a lynching,
after a drowning,
and a burning while all the people sang na na
nawnaw nananana

and when the battle's over, we had lost the edge,
- contention comes from pride, and
- winners is proud, such pride has offspring
- messin' wit'cha mind… win Christ, for dung…

Covid binging
dulled
the point, but after all,
we are here and all who opposed us
now enforce the worth of words
to the wise.
It is written. So it is.
Consider a self, rich and sorrowless.
Be that a bit.
---------
Gramary is magic, Psyche is spiritual, at best.
Ach, Scheiz, not Grammerly, no, but a segue
I just did a product placement
for one of Spelchek's kids.
Gramery is spells and hexes in letters and signs…

And on TV is Osiris and Isit… bait for next

exacting pressure
parchment paper
rosin escapes
and pools
puddled tricombs
and medical molecules
lay like orange juice
fresh-squeezed
waiting restlessly
to be placed en masse
onto the awaiting enail
vaporization and inhalation
taste buds savor flavors
and the effects take hold
melting into the couch cushions
and considering the work day
I pull together another glob
and press it to the heated coil
breathing deep
my medicine of choice –

The demagogue reincarnate
feels gifted to reign supreme
captivates, glorifies, lauds,
renounces, yawps extreme
views bellows dogmatic fulminations
in an attempt to redeem
stolen 2020 capital one bid.

Which hunter (biden his time)
will reap grim statistic when citizens
cast their ballots for president
in the popular vote (viz 2024 election)
unbeknownst one or the other
lesser of two evils will accrue
majority votes after
ramping up mudslinging
both candidates violently stirring cauldron
proffering toxic brew
powerful blend to spellbind public

elixir ration to parlay a view to unleash
vengeance laced with hate speech
triggering doomsday clock to strike midnight
when nuclear weapons
get loosed out their silos on cue
destroying vast swaths of flora and fauna,
most innocent life forms will pay hefty due
to assuage aggressively cruel, enjoyably
growling goal, and indubitably
kick **** mindset
worse than dengue fever will ensue

a combustible domino effect
fueling global horror –
scenario of webbed, wide world I eschew
analogous to kindling tinder logs smoke
jetting up fireplace flue
witnessing sovereign spookiest
magnum opus – engendering, jump/kick
starting, and transforming much of animal
and plant life into goo
(especially after special prosecutor
Robert Mueller let go some years back)

far scarier than any macabre production
dreamt up by human
frightful scenario hero
she ma (paltry in comparison)
will rescue us from deadly debacle,
nor any safe haven such as cool igloo
forsooth thee annihilation will surpass
any prior world war, no one will be spared,
neither gentile nor Jew
which all out total mortal kombat,
and attendant dystopian landscape

laying waste organisms livingsocial
will instantaneously undergo cremation,
despite Georgia grand jury courtesy
indicting former President Donald Trump
that rained down
upon his head and up the kazoo,
where flecks of ashes will spread like Kudzu
rendering world wide web
fetid, offal, and putrid
far more noxious than the common loo
yet even this general description

falls far short to where mew
tinny, sans hardy species
(according to Google search);
such as tardigrade, mummichog, and cockroach
decimating, heaving, leveling, poisoning
nearly every cubic inch of Earth
evincing voluminous vaporization
extant eradication emphatically
nixed, punctuated, and radiated
pulverization eviscerating bowels of mankind,
where nary a survivor, especially foreigner

could weather and withstand
hollowed out no mans land
bereft of sustenance or water
where seeds of life
and white lily when coalescence
of oblate spheroid birthed,
nursed, and weaned new
life especially proto **** sapiens
and subsequent kin grunting
with ah and sheepish ewe where
rambunctious fast tracked primates,

yet inherent within genetic coda,
(perhaps poison ingredient bubbling
within primordial soup - steeped qua pew
tarnation housing crucible-
analogous to planetary size
mortar and pestle) queue
sans predestination, where rue
brick, dogma, and fealty
honoring justice slew
by paws of one cancerous,
fractious and idolatrous Lothario,

who opened Pandora Box
(rigged by bobbies shut tight) thorough
lee rendered civilization a footnote
of cosmological history and universal view
where if one eligible voter
ideally chooses alternate
Democratic, but hands down
Republican candidate will clinch nomination,
witnessing elephants to stampede,
the majority will exhale a collective whew
and allow, enable and provide
continuance of the human zoo.

courtesy the comfort of his mancave,
I (a mutated batman wannabe)
doth prattle and stump
and display wide whirled webbed
and variegated tail feathers
(also known as rectrices) of mine,
cuz in actuality true bats
as quoted verbatim from Google
“lack tail feathers,
but they do sport tails that vary in structure
and can help with classification.

For example, vespertilionids have tails
that run to the end of their uropatagiums,
while molossids and rhinopomatids
have tails that extend beyond the membrane.

These species may use their tails
to feel their way around
when backing into crevices.

Other bats, like emballonurids,
have tails that are shorter
than the membrane and rise above it.

They belong to the order Chiroptera,
which means "hand wing".

Bats have long fingers that form wings,
and a thin membrane called a patagium
that stretches between their finger bones.

This membrane, along
with their many movable joints,
makes bats agile fliers” - end quote.

After aforementioned introduction  
regarding why I proudly pride myself
with rare genetic anomaly
that evokes rumpled stilts skin,
I not only feel analogous to
a mysterious gnome-like character
from the German
fairy tale Rumpelstiltskin,
but also parade mutation
like an out of season mummer,
who originally posted
the following lines
of this poem crafted August 15, 2023.

That unnamed demagogue reincarnate
feels gifted to reign supreme
captivates, glorifies, lauds,
renounces, yawps extreme
views bellows dogmatic fulminations
in an attempt to redeem
supposed stolen 2020 capital one bid
and seal lock, stock and tight as a barrel
the upcoming ⁦election Tuesday,
November fifth, 2024⁩.

Which pseudo/quasi hunter
chomping at the bit (biden his time)
will reap grim statistic, when citizens
hopefully cast their ballots
for the first female and biracial president
in the popular vote 'videre licet' 2024 election)
unbeknownst whether Kamala Harris
the dark horse candidate will accrue
majority votes after
ramping up diplomatic repartee
against mudslinging toward her,

whereby her opponent violently stirs cauldron
proffering toxic brew
powerful blend to spellbind public
elixir ration to parlay a view to unleash
vengeance laced with hate speech
triggering doomsday clock to strike midnight
when nuclear weapons
get loosed out their silos on cue
destroying vast swaths of flora and fauna,
most innocent life forms will pay hefty due

to assuage aggressively cruel, enjoyably
growling goal, and indubitably
kick **** mindset
worse than dengue fever will ensue
a combustible domino effect
fueling global horror –
scenario of webbed, wide world I eschew
analogous to kindling tinder logs smoke
jetting up fireplace flue
witnessing sovereign spookiest

magnum opus – engendering, jump/kick
starting, and transforming much of animal
and plant life into goo,
(especially after special prosecutor
Robert Mueller let go some years back)
far scarier than any macabre production
dreamt up by human
frightful scenario hero
she ma, or nog a saké (paltry in comparison)
will rescue us from deadly debacle,

nor any safe haven such as cool igloo
forsooth thee annihilation will surpass
any prior world war, no one will be spared,
neither gentile nor Jew
which all out total mortal kombat,
and attendant dystopian landscape
laying waste organisms livingsocial
will instantaneously undergo cremation,
despite Georgia grand jury courtesy
indicting former President Donald Trump

that rained down as Stormy Daniels
upon his head and up the kazoo,
where flecks of ashes will spread like Kudzu
rendering world wide web
fetid, offal, and putrid
far more noxious than the common loo
yet even this general description
falls far short to where mew
tinny, sans hardy species
(according to Google search);

such as tardigrade, mummichog, and cockroach
decimating, heaving, leveling, poisoning
nearly every cubic inch of Earth
evincing voluminous vaporization
extant eradication emphatically
nixed, punctuated, and radiated
pulverization eviscerating bowels of mankind,
where nary a survivor, especially foreigner
could weather and withstand
hollowed out no mans land

bereft of sustenance or water
where seeds of life
and white lily when coalescence
of oblate spheroid birthed,
nursed, and weaned new
life especially proto **** sapiens
and subsequent kin grunting
with ah and sheepish ewe where
rambunctious fast tracked primates,
yet inherent within genetic coda,

(perhaps poison ingredient bubbling
within primordial soup - steeped qua pew
tarnation housing crucible-
analogous to planetary size
mortar and pestle) queue
sans predestination, where rue
brick, dogma, and fealty
honoring justice slew
by paws of one cancerous,
fractious and idolatrous Lothario,
who opened Pandora Box

(rigged by bobbies shut tight) thorough
lee rendered civilization a footnote
of cosmological history and universal view
where if one eligible voter
ideally chooses alternate
Democratic, but hands down
Republican candidate will clinch nomination,
witnessing elephants to stampede,
the majority will exhale a collective whew
and allow, enable and provide
no end to speculation about
decimation about me, you
and continuance of the human zoo.

Waiting on the inevitable, waiting in line for broth and bread
Mass bombing campaigns, civilian casualties casually cared less about
Please clean water, please rain, we're licking the rocks, eating our boots
The rats are at war again, tails tied together, consuming eachother
Nuclear holocaust, the very idea of vaporization, lives lingering as black shadows on a wall
.38 special, black and white, execution in the streets
They pumped their caves full of salt water, then diesel, then burnt them alive
Kamikazes were told to keep their eyes open all the way to impact
It makes me tired, all these pills, all these useless cigarettes
I want to go in the woods and dig a hole, never come out, grow my own rotten roots
Waiting our turn for things to fall apart, that'll be $19.95, delivered to your doorstep
The conch shell is shattering, a spattering of mud for the city on the hill
How many bullets, how many bombs, how many broken bodies
How long until we overcomes, how long until we see ourselves as a species, not a flag
A day in our dreams, currently it has wings, twists away in the breeze, good luck catching it