.    like cardinal Leto remarked, having received news from Versailles... why is it always the ******* French?

perhaps in a less crude manner,
drinking wine,
while eating raw fruits -

  always a bad combination...
no *****, no meat?
   bad idea... wine, and raw fruit
akin to strawberries?
    irritable bowel movements...

- and that's because Einstein
didn't discover the concept of
gravity, in the format of: sideways?
in the form of orbits?
   expansive waves...
   that allowed for the elliptical interpretation?
like the old
              argument:
      (heliocentric) oval...
             contra the (geocentric) circular
"concern" for...
   whatever is up / down
            sideways in
      the Copernican terminology...
because there was ever a "shape"
concerning the universe,
  and not a medium,
            an extraction for the metaphor
for water,
   gas, liquid, solid...
              and the fourth aspect
of ancient elements:
   its existence in a vacuous "space"?

- but i can't fathom the French at this point...
once upon a time...
one Frenchman equated the motivation
for a "summa summarum"
    to be bound with a thinking,
and a curiosity...

            the current fashion of Latin
abbreviations...
   this... cogito ergo sum?
   it's nonsense...
    speak it long enough...
   and you'll find yourself inclined
to suppose that cogitans per se:
is a motivation, an impetus to exist...
yet... so much of thought it "wasted"
or, rather, to craft an impetus to
"doubt", within the confines of fiction...
but the motivation has lost its
origin within the confines of doubt,
and has been replaced by
the Freudian unconscious,
   a serialized phobia fest... notably
including a, clown...

originally, thought (per se) was
a secondary motivational outlet
that precipitated into being...
    first came... doubt...
   but... these days?
               doubt is a conspiracy theory,
no longer an emotional thrill
to prop-up thinking...
   and we have the French existentialists
to thank for this...
for they subverted their own
idea...

             negation has replaced doubt
as the origin, and motivation
for thinking...
        yet... this sort of "thinking",
has made, its materialization, so, so...
obscene...
    i can hardly find it surprising while
i took to propping two worthwhile
economic outlets...
   prostitution (since they will spend
the money i give them...
on things... i wouldn't even care
for propping up)...

    and... alcohol (scotch whiskey,
russian standard *****...
    shveedish cider...
                     german beer)...

but how can you even claim an existence,
if...
       there is no thrill...
of what is the secular expression of faith:
i.e. doubt?
  how can you replace doubt -
a motivation for thinking, materialized
into being... with negation?
  jean-paul Sartre attempted this inversion -

doubt has been replaced with negation
in his system...
             it's like that cliche of an English
1960s ***-joke / ***-like...
       this... frivolity over a blatant lie...
a lie so... bogus...
    so ineffectual in translating a hidden truth
that... you allow it...
   to care for the cheap comic aspect
of the execution...

but how can the French suddenly
feign to disbelieve their secularism -
   resorting to the antithesis,
namely:

  original

  doubt motivates thinking,
  which subsequently motivates
   being within the confines of reason,
or rather, reasonableness...

20th century existentialists

negation "motifs" thinking,
   which subsequently motifs
"being" within the freedom of non-reason,
or rather, unreasonableness...

   and by negation,
   i don't mean the atomic conceived softening
blow...
   akin to: dis-ease...
    i.e. (as i explained it to one old man
in a park, walking his dog):
  a negation, or ease... a denial of...

how can the Cartesian model work,
when the 20th century French existentialists
began with the presupposition:

   i deny, i think, therefore i exist?
where is the original thrill of
the secular aspect of faith, within the boundaries
of doubt?
              gone... vanished!
****! a **** on the London tube,
during the rush hour,
  during the heatwave
                of the past month!

                   perhaps this only comes
as a method of assimilating an increased population,
within the confines of the Taoist maxim:
the best way to aid the world,
is to forget the world, and let the world
forget about you...

             perhaps... the Andy Warhol 15 minutes
analogy...
      that in order to encompass the individual,
the world, and the individual within it...
   the approach had to change
from the original, exciting, exploration
genesis of thought, bound to the genesis
of doubt...
             having to be replaced by
a genesis of denial...
      the second tier of a secular society...
    the zeitgeist of Herr Censor...
to filter through what we see so often,
faces, bodies...
  but would be much more comfortable
having been bound to Plato's cave,
         of complete shadow theater...

perhaps... but the original tier of
secular societies' alternative to church prescribed
articles of faith...
                     to have replaced
the thrill of doubt...
      with this... Byzantine pillar of denial
as motivational groundwork for
thinking impetus
   that becomes an article of being?
am i the only one to see the frustration,
how, people abhor their being,
being founded upon an act of denial,
rather than an act of doubt?

     the once thrilling maybe (gnostic):
   has become the stale, "i don't know"
    (agnostic) - as if... people can't tell you
whether zebras have stripes!
   where there was once an article
of secular faith (doubt) -
   now?
                        there's not even that!

p.s.
  there has to be a much needed new mantra,
all publicity: is bad publicity -
unless of course you're riding that
fame juggernaut and are paying
for your all-inclusive status akin
   to madonna: since fame dies off
and you, none-the-less invest in the momentum...

one day where i drink a bottle of wine,
half a liter of whiskey,
   and i'm apparently not "screaming" in
my sleep from the heat,
the whole, "apparently", as i retorted:
at 5:15am? i was alseep! i was asleep!
how can i stop screaming in my sleep
like a banshee:
the sleeper and the blind man both see
eye to eye regarding the future to come...

one day without engaging in internet
content: of my own accord,
next day? this... this... lethargy builds
up in me... i end up thinking:
i can't do this any more,
this insomnia culture globalism of
24h news reels is tirying me,
i pick up the sunday newspaper
which i found to be respecteable...
the sunday times,
  i peer into the magazines...
toxic masculinity,
    desire: what three women want...
i'm bored...
well more tired than bored,
bored-tired...
                 what women want:
what an exhausting question...
**** fantasy, beta-male provideer...
yada-yada-yada...
                    
    the only relaxing aspect of the day
(apart from the shade) is watching
england beat india in the cricket...
i always loved cricket sport terminology:
50 overs... innings...
wickets... 6 throws of the ball in an over...
the rest? i'm no atlas...
i don't like the world crashing in on
me with all its problems...
not because i don't have the right
advice to give,
but i remember the most modern secular
motto about giving advice borrowed
from Athos of the creation of alexandre dumas:

the best advice? to not give advice...
you cannot be held accountable
for giving bad advice: and people complaining,
or good advice and leaving
people in your sphere of influence...
asking for more - non verbatim... of course...

second categorical imperative?
tao...
              the best way you can help
the world: is to forget the world,
and let the world forget you...

                        you only need two absolute
maxim vectors to orientate yourself
in this world,
a third is nice, but: it can be kept loose...
at least two on a tight leash...

but one night spent drinking,
not writing anything:
and i am... spent!

                            the boogieman of england's
persistent complaints...
the muslims are not integrating,
the english: we should give them more
ground...
           o.k., o.k.... joe peshi in the role
leo getz in lethal weapon II...
            i too had to integrate!
i said: like **** if you think i'll give up
my native tongue when spoken in private...
you're not getting it...
i'll spreschen ihre zunge, no problem,
i'll even write you pwetty free verses to boot!
but, guess what?
  i will not force you to eat my
sauerkraut, my schnitzels,
                           my smoked sausages,
my raw herrings etc.,
                      integration does not work
within the confines of: pampering to a people
expected to meet you half-way...
what happened when the polonaise attempted
to meet the english half-way?
brexit...
oh come on guv'... is there a ******* tram
echoing its way out of my eye
when you peer into it while i attach
an index finger to the bottom lid to give
you a clearer picture?
           25 years in england: no englush girlfriend:
i guess all the english girls just love, just love love
being ***** by 9 pakistanis
daubed in gasoline...
                   hey: they **** thrill...

i'm tired of the weakness of the english,
the humpty-dumpty nature they are imposing,
self-cencorship,
    appeasing, like neville chamberlain...
bringing back the munich agreement...
not on a piece of paper,
instead... waving a scrap of a toilet roll...
so the english could wipe their own *****
on the promises of the germans...
if this really hurts the northern monkies...
guess how much it hurts the sourthern fairies...
(well... fairy, is a designated region surrounding
devon, bristol, hardly a ******* fairy in essex)...

   why am i foreigner and i share
the same nausea of the natives,
                     exhausted by the narratives?
i guess the english didn't like the polonaise:
but the polonaise are to blame...
came here with a list of benefits they could claim:
without having even lived 5 years among
the natives... housing benefits, child benefits...
believe me: the polonaise are the only
people in the world that hate each other...
to the extent of citing bitter criticisms...
whenever i pass through warsaw to see my grandparents
i am gripped with a sickness:
this homogeneity is too much for me...
shove me back into the east end of London...
too much of the same genetic material...
and that's when the language i am keeping
(seemingly for vanity reasons) fizzles out
into your basic encounter and that basic reminder
that circa 40 million speak it too,
better or worse, but they speak it...

of all the festivals? download...
                                   i wish...
    glastonbury?       not my thing...
kylie? i'll concede: slow? live, with instruments,
rather than the studio original...
wasn't that a cover of
   bowie's fashion?
                  sure as hell sounded similar...
but i heard the cure were playing...
so while writing my father's invoice
i made myself a paperclip bracelet...
   i figured... "let's just pretend to be there"...
and no, the 1980s weren't that bad when
it comes to music,
not now, by comparison...
the cure's kiss me, kiss me, kiss me (1987)
release?
one of those rare albums you can
listen to akin to reading a book...

                       but there's still that persisting
exhaustion... i came from under communism,
from under the iron curtain,
but at least there was the economic aspect
of communism involved...

   only today i watched the story
of the terrible inversion of english jursprudence,
i.e.: guilty until proven innocent...
the 1975 case of the silesian vampire...
an innocent man was hanged...
the original vampire?
    smashed his wive's head in,
then his childrens', then he set himself
on fire...
              then again: the tragedy of those
rare cases of being presumed guilty
rather than innocent...
then the reverse: presumed innocent rather
than guilty and getting away with it,
through the parody of death
and the non existent god...

   there could not be anything more exhausting
than communism without a communist
economic model...
this current state of affairs in the west:
cultural marxism and the yet to be discovered
antithesis of cultural darwinism...

i'll use the cartesian chirality for a moment:
sum ergo cogito...
i don't like using political terms...
but... liberal (classical) - i don't even know
what sort of thinking goes into the label -
in the east? the liberals are exhausted
by a resurgent nationalism within
   the newly acquired capitalist system...
in the west? the liberals are exhausted
by an insurgent communism within
an ageing capitalist system...

         on a side: seriously, why even bother
engaging in any sort of "public intellectual"
debates when the public are only
discussing two books: 1984 and brave new world...
**** it, might as well talk to a camel jockey
who only own and rides the waves of
time in this world only using one...
muhammad...
   whom Khadija **** Khuwaylid
would probably whip into his young
respectable shape...

                  and this is how Ezra Pound comes
into rememberance:
usura... at least the muslims do not
play into the game of usury:
of interest... borrow a quid,
pay back £2.33...
            that's the only way you can
gain respect of the muslims:
if they truly were the money lenders
of this world: which they aren't...
unless a newly blessed...

   among the philistines and the proselytes...
england is such a tiresome project,
even on the outskirts of London...
i'm being dragged down by this intervention
of marxism: on a whim,
on a whimsical projection...
of "adding" values...
            
           communism would have worked...
in exceptional circumstances...
poland... circa 1945 - 1990...
syria: the current year...
  to whatever year is demanded...
exceptional as in: war torn...
where was the marshall plan
   for poland, when there was one
for sweden (neutral) and switzerland
(also neutral)?!
        black youths bothered about
the summer holidays,
having to live in council flats,
  concrete goliaths...
           want to know what it feels like
when entire cities are like council
estates,
with only pockets of remaining
   free-standing houses among
overshadowing council flats?
                                    nee bother...
sure... in a country where:
the house is the castle and there's a labyrinth
of castles constituting outer suburbia...
balconies... that's what the soviet
models had... balconies...
where women could grow flowers...
concrete staccato gardens in the sky...
the blocks of flats in england
didn't have balconies (sky gardens,
          esp. the early ones, massive fault)...
i spent one summer reading
bertnard russell's history of western philosophy...
lying in my grandparent's balcony,
in the shade...
watching passerbys among
          the barking dogs of the neighbours...

one day, one ******* day!
   and i'm already exhausted from the castrato
english narrative...
pandering to the people you expected
to integrate...
  no! you're not changing your standards...
your standards are perfectly reasonable!
i'm tired of the english pandering
to the sort of people who, will, not,
integrate!
               i integrated in a way
of respecting both the english culture,
as well as hiding / preserving my own...
why don't i just do the following:
   pisać po polsku?
                      like some czesław miłosz?

ah... good point... at what point
is the standard of integration appreciated?
when nothing is preserved?
surely integration is supposed to
accommodate some variation
of preservation?
     i might add: that's a fine line...
preserve all? no integration...
preserve some? integration...
                    preserve none? no integration...
food is a cheap target to example
with...
                   it's a low hanging fruit...
given that even i find indian cuisine
   the most superior in the world...
food is a cheap target concerning integration...
but the niqab?
  when the local english authorities
are employing face-recognition
technology and when testing it...
are forcing people to uncover their faces,
subsequently arresting them out of protest...
but not the women wearing the niqab...
out of? out of what?
   a secular society shouldn't be allowed
to discriminate against any religion...
it should discriminate against: all religions!

                isn't that what the secular ideology
is all about? the... softcore version
of soviet atheism?
        secularism of the west (miltary-industrial
complex)...
"vs." soviet atheism of the east
  (scientific-industrial complex)...
           i'm still so ******* tired
               of this bogus trap of "necessary"
                       commentary.

Hope that you may understand!
What can books of men that wive
In a dragon-guarded land,
Paintings of the dolphin-drawn
Sea-nymphs in their pearly wagons
Do, but awake a hope to live
That had gone
With the dragons?

Men who look like ferris wheels
every color representing different aspects of their personality

The first three words don't have to be beautiful
they just have to make sense
like connecting dots on paper

men who love with their fists
and hate with their mouths
who once were boys taking things apart
like remote controls their own fathers used to beat     Obedience into their small bodies.  Left them with a fury tattooed across their hearts
Just to give them the challenge of putting themselves back together

They buy their wive's flowers after
a four day bruise isn't so glaringly purple anymore
not so accusing-
kiss her broken ribs
and tell their children midnight stories

children trained as mood detectors
human robots
know when to shutup
speak when you are spoken to*

Men who speak like cutting boards
Every slice of the knives in their toungues leave
hollow aching missing parts
just to teach their children that not all
things can be put together once taken apart

whose daughter glues together the parts of old telephones
to spite the missing pieces
so every welt he beats into her bones
she sings herself unbroken
until she stands robust and imperfect
there are holes in her armour
but she holds it together

with her fathers fists.

On a bed in which I lay
A life I see
A century old path leading
To this moment
No matter the path I took
It all lead to this
At least in this I feel no pain
No sorrow
No regret
Soon I am to meet
All that brought others and me
Heart beat eighty

I can see the glows of the tears
Slowly falling down their cheeks
People I have brought together
By my own hand and the grace of fate
Mothers, daughters, brothers, sisters
People of my past of torn from the battles
United under the pressure of loss
People for the future
Are brought another lesson of life
People of present
Given another relief from inner waterfalls
Heart Beat Seventy

My wive is closest
My daughter is next
Whispering please don't go
The warmth I feel
Is from their breaking hearts
I sing the songs from which we first met
Trying my best not to sound goofy
Managing to ease the pain for only a moment
Lights start dancing around me
Family from what seemed each generation
Come to help me across the line.
Heart Beat Sixty

Her hair lays on my chest, feels like it did when we first met
On that summer day down by the river
The water rushing through our toes as we danced the song of the winds
Laughter filled the air
Fish even decided to join the chorus
The splash of their jumps changes the beat
Our hearts sync to it
The air is filled with love
Even the angel of death paused in admiration.
Chuckling "I guess it will be a while"
Heart Beat Fifty

My sisters all gather in tears while my brothers to stay strong
I whisper to them I was sorry
For not being there in a time of need
I told them what our time apart has caused
I told them in fear I would never see them again
They became ghosts to fill the gaping hole that held in my heart for times too long
Only to dig its depth
The middle and second of youngest sisters granted the forgiveness
The older that is closer to my number still eggs the stubborn head
My brothers never held a grudge
The youngest of eight, never held a love quite like the rest
But still understood the pain
Despite having been born during the aftershocks
Heart Beat thirty

The Lights grew brighter
No sound could move
When this began I could hear the cries of women
Bringing out the next of the world
I hear the shouts of children in pain
I could feel everything
But now there was nothing, but a pressure on my chest
Dogs have gathered on my body, next to my wife and daughter
Smiling at a sight long seen not
My wife's hears their breaths and cries even louder
But no sound could be heard
My daughter knew what was coming, and joined the tears too
I felt the tears like the waters of holy river
Cleansing the filth still clinging to my soul
Heart Beat Fifteen

The voices from the past start to enter
Encouraging words that all will be alright
Everyone around me has changed
From the old that they once were, to youth in which we first met
My grandparents who died in pain appeared by my side
Looked better then I could remember
My wife was once again 16, the year that we met
My children were babies, crawled by the animals that lay on my body
Grandpa tells me that "This is the last look, might as well enjoy,
"The fruits of my labor have grown, but for now I will see the seeds,
"Each breath I take unlocks the cage that my soul was trapped,
"So I may live,
"If there is anything you want to say, say it now"
Heart Beat ten

I lifted my hand to touch my wife, as I would when surprising her with a present
I asked for a pen and paper to write one last message
My time is running out
Heart Beat Nine

The Lights raise their hands to grant me a slice of strength
Enough to help with what was needed
"To my family, to my friends"
Heart Beat Eight
"If you need me and I am gone. Look to the Stars"
Heart Beat Seven
"My mind has always been there, it was only a matter of time..."
Heart Beat Six
"Before my body decided to follow. Remember the words I have said..."
Heart Beat Five
"For each was meant to guide you. Do not allow yourselves to fall apart because of petty..."
Heart Beat Four
"Wars. I taught you all to patch wounds as soon as they are made so that you will never lose touch..."
Heart Beat Three
"of who you are an where you came from. The devil himself tried to take me over, but I fought it by accepting who I was. Do not argue over difference, do not blame any new lives that enter in the place of the lost..."
Heart Beat Two
"And do not stop being a family. Take my words and grow. I love you all with all my heart and I want you all to remember that no matter the trouble. I want you to remember that I will be still be here at your side protecting you every step you take. As will our ancestors. Use your gifts well and use them to help others. Please."
Heart Beat One
"With Love, Dakota. Blessed Be"






Heart



Beat



Zero

No two snowflakes are alike. Do you know what that means? Are you able to grasp just how much weight that statement carries? That means that even during a blizzard when the world is being consumed by snow and the flakes are falling faster than a torrential down pour and you can’t see your very own hand in front of you, still even then not one of those trillions of snowflakes will ever match another.
It’s practically unthinkable, a laughable old wive’s tale. But then I remember how I saw you that one day with your friends, laughing at something one of them said and I realize in that moment then how something like that is truly possible

Ordinary words in ordinary order
Slouch across the page unnoticed
Mundane metaphors and trite observations
Destroy catch phrases with every old saw
Memes are dragged behind overused hashtags
Until they morph into yesterday’s news
Dusty and bent and soiled on the edges
Same ole rehash of the same ole crap
Whitewashing the fence of involvement
The old wive’s tales are alternative facts
That dance to the tune of an illiterate piper
In a boring routine choreographed by
A sullen pre-teen who finds herself grounded.

Wherever you’re going,
You can’t get there from here.
ljm

fem·i·nist [fem-uh-nist]
adjective
1. advocating social, political, legal, and economic rights for women equal to those of men.*

I used to be afraid I'd be stuck in a training bra forever.
For awhile I didn't wear one.
My grandmother would yell at me.
I told her I was a feminist.
I didn't know what it meant.
A part of me wishes I could go back*
to that time of AA's instead of DD's.
One less thing to define me.
Maybe then I could be free of the restraints.

Eyeliner seemed ridiculous.
Poking yourself in the eye with an 8 dollar glamor crayon.
Crayola sells them for 15 cents.
Always was cheap - Not the makeup - Not the crayon.
I don't leave the house without it.

I used to be afraid of tampons.
They grossed me out.
They confused me.
I didn't understand how you could stick something "up there"
and walk straight.
I'd be surprised how much it can handle.
Strength. Numbers. Endurance.
But, I still can't walk straight.

I used to be afraid of the boogeyman.
The darkness in the closet.
The monster under my bed.
I was a smart kid.
I knew they were there all along
under the comforter
beneath the sheets
next to my fragile body
stealing my sliced heart
and ******* the rest.

The monsters wear a disguise.
Rubber.
If you're lucky.
Without the water balloon and crossed fingers your stomach fills nine months times its size.
So they say.
I still like to believe it's an old wive's tale.
And I refuse to be an old wife.

I never considered thongs underwear.
I considered them floss.
Why wear one when you could just go bare *** and achieve the same result?
Now I floss regularly.
Hygiene is important.
Clean my mouth.
Well, might as well brush my teeth while I'm at it.

I used to be afraid I'd grow up and couldn't eat Popsicles anymore.
As if chasing after the icecream truck was something prescribed to a little girl in spaghetti straps
******* only her thumb.
Innocence lost.
I don't like Popsicles anymore.
Unless they're cherry flavor.

I wish i could fold myself
into the sounds
                           that your tongue makes
and exist in the
        fabric of your skin,
                   all silk and porcelain.

Instead, I am the ringing in your ears.

Bedlam is our repletion, bellicose our rest,
For ever state which we call peace is war of constant test.
This war must share no allies - each warrior a martyr,
And it would stand that every soldier someone calls their daughter.

The instigator Terra, the perpetrator Yahweh,
Instant and perpetual - a bellum night and day.
The resource universal, from sea to ****** sea.
This war is fought o'er any man who might a bachelor be.

Civility and stupor the only neutral face they wear,
But underneath the plaster smile iniquity lies bare.
How cruelly do they cozen, how capricious they connive,
A thousand times more vicious than any man that seeks to wive.

And how they suffer sedulous, their bodies they contort
Into the most pernicious forms, a weapon of a sort:
They don the war paint, pluck the hair, admonish slightest error,
And take to wield those eyes of steel, and bless the world with terror.

Were only smiles the chosen currency,
You'd make me quite the richest man alive;
Would only pride bring power unto me,
I'd live a tsar, a King by who I wive;

Yet do you not these feelings share for me,
The man who so adores you as his bride?
Do not the comforts of a monarch please
His treasury, his sceptre, throne and tide?

For if those fleeting smiles are insincere,
Then not a single gem belongs to me;
And if your love for me is as I fear,
Then I am ruler of a barren sea.

For though you swell my heart without denial,
It is for naught if I can't make you smile.

Thou art now subject to moral decay,
Moral display is factored in thy oddjob list,
Wherein snob-ball Lisp's are sumblime in groupie sets!!!!

Woe to be pondered,
Sky's souly to be wandered through broken holed boat's,
To neat-nice pottery stinking nets!!!

Astute loons maketh their graces high and mighty,
Where tribes stay rewinding their beginning end's of birth,
Art thou a leader from many kingdom's?
Or a lubricant to zealous curse!!!!!

Spoon's replace knive's,
Deadly sin to replace wive's,
Crimes against humanity puppeteer the market's trail,
Crumb's reach the helpless, whilst snarling dog's drag tail!!!!

Embankments to fit the streamed beauties,
Where prestine muting is sound fit to cold coated bones!!!

Infrequency goes higher to the laughing in lover's valley,
Wherein pin's to sportsman's ball goes rallied,
Tallied up zero to zero four score!!!

None makes a difference if thou art the lonely beggar at loves lost door!!!!

A premium stands by for the serpent who make's it's pass,
Crawl through the fiery hole thou stained creature,
Step out betwixt the cities of the now and forever future!!!!

wive's tales and home cures
for maladies like heart sickness
include burying the hair of the beloved
and toenail clippings under
the biggest oak tree under the full moon
with a dollar bill
and I found it too hard the dirt
under an oak and dug a hole
under a pecan tree
it came back to bite me in the nut
for she not only came back
to me but brought her mom and gramma
brother sister and grandad and her sister's two kids

She was the fool
Who danced so wildly
to tunes that were played
by the man of sociaties,
who pray on her love,
and borrowed insecurities,
but returning them soon.
leaving her lost and in pain,
And filled with regrets,
of the gift she had traded
for a single nights pleasure
with men who had wive's
and girls that were bored.
Till she was left all alone
with a burden on her soul,
Desires in her heart,
but damaged beyond that wich one could repair.

Equals twenty one thirty 22:30 military time
future time traveler looks back one century ago,
oceanic waterways overladen with green slime,
yours truly attempted crafting id est feeble rhyme
far from madding crowd, nevertheless yet lovely
bones and flesh quite spry, still considered prime
(moost procreative, prodigious, and progressive)

stage, since (case ye didn't know) approximately
eight score orbitz round Earth's sun still noontime
chronologically analogous to protracted lunchtime
whereat the average offspring jetson or (daughter)
can be sweet as apple pie or sour as lemon or lime
cell metabolism catalytic converter courtesy enzyme
routine medical procedure costs about one dime.

Me - born fifty nine years into twentieth century alive
eight score and three years secret condiment iz chive
and well (still hashtagged as precocious) with drive
to safely, sidestep, and surmount establishmentarian
archaic, formulaic, and mosaic Judaic/Christian hive
found synchronicity within Unitarian Church more so
parents introduced dogmatic, ethic, fundamentalistic
jargonistic, kinetic, linguistic, pluralistic, quixotic I've
discovered compatibility with non religious teaching

wry master of words (me) take poetic license to jive
reasonably rhyming nope heart tickle early misthrive
moost definitely ***** deeds done dirt cheap (trick)
super tramping space cowboy lobbing power-drive
re: frequently innocent prelapsarian double entendre
(Jean Jacques Rousseau) Noble Savage he doth strive
even though hanky panky tinged entire his/her story,
**** sapiens animal husbandry hastily did wive.

Formalities encompass chalice lighting ma yoyo
wing liberal Democratic political bent embraces XO
shorthand for virtual affectionate charisma minister
Reverend Margret O'Neal imparts open greeting
congregation Sunday at ten thirty AM courtesy zoom
bajillion years after proto humans experienced woe
countless figurative early Brady bunched bro doggie
dimples encountered necessity to escape cohabitation
(marital covenant alien), yet quasi marital brouhaha
ofttimes witnessed altercation begetting re: thorough
out baby with bath water phenomena, which literal
cruel fate heavily peppered past (mine) accounting

lamely explaining Pink Floyd momentary status quo
upended accompanied courtesy lapse of reason no
definitive evidence to substantiate claim, yet I know
without shadowed doubt every friggin forebear (***
pining to savor manumission, versus cotton pickin)
back breaking stoop labor think indentured escrow
harking back to days of our lives (mainly bonobo
nasty, short and brutus creatures millenniums ago
unsung simian kindred beings suffering figurative
ruffled horse feathers nsync with bird in hand dodo

which latter species long extinct (as Dutch good eats)
now non sequitur (sea quitter) mine homeboys/girls
comprising Harris eventual clan (of craven lionized
"scapegoats" set genealogical precedent, and grew
some real winners gentiles, who commingled and
intermarried, and united proudly to kvetch as Jew)
eventually acquiring redeeming qualities conveniently
best caricatured as features exhibited by Mister MaGoo
invariably dear reader "fake" anecdote ye will poo poo
as well how storied and fabled coronavirus (COVID-19)
medical technicians reference quaint pandemic setting

figurative global stage brethren and sistern microbes
made webbed, wide world wish for said good ole days
cuz, communiqué done being crafted about six hours
marine hated, armies of beastie boys slain 2122 yahoo
the darndest, latest microscopic bugaboo nearly slew
entire population, hence envision terra firma with
divine providence absolute zero people as edenic
provenance (metaphorically offering tabula rasa view.

I exhibit health and virility at one hundred and
64 years astride planet earth, whereby spouse,
(who remained married to yours truly for about
one century – which elapsed in blink of an eye)
long since gave up the ghost, which found me
receptive to possible mission to date women
(strong of body, mind, and spirit with frontier
spirit) young enough to be my granddaughter.  

Circa December 4th, 2123, or 1212 military time,
yours truly attempted crafting id est feeble rhyme
far from madding crowd, nevertheless yet lovely
bones and flesh quite spry, still considered prime
(moost procreative, prodigious, and progressive)
stage, since (case ye didn't know) approximately
eight score orbitz round Earth's sun still noontime
chronologically analogous to protracted lunchtime
whereat the average offspring jetson or (daughter)

Born twenty three years into twenty second century alive
and well (still hashtagged as precocious) with drive
to safely, sidestep, and surmount establishmentarian
archaic, formulaic, and mosaic Judaic/Christian give
wry master of words (me) take poetic license to jive
reasonably rhyming nope heart tickle early misthrive
moost definitely ***** deeds done dirt cheap (trick)
super tramping space cowboy lobbing power-drive
re: frequently innocent prelapsarian double entendre
(Jean Jacques Rousseau) Noble Savage he doth strive
even though hanky panky tinged entire his/her story,
**** sapiens animal husbandry hastily did wive.

Bajillion years after proto humans experienced woe
countless figurative early Brady bunched bro doggie
dimples encountered necessity to escape cohabitation
(marital covenant alien), yet quasi marital brouhaha
ofttimes witnessed altercation begetting re: thorough
out baby with bath water phenomena, which literal
cruel fate heavily peppered past (mine) accounting
lamely explaining Pink Floyd momentary status quo
upended accompanied courtesy lapse of reason no

definitive evidence to substantiate claim, yet I know
without shadowed doubt every friggin forebear (***
pining to savor manumission, versus cotton pickin)
back breaking stoop labor think indentured escrow
harking back to days of our lives (mainly bonobo
nasty, short and brutus creatures millenniums ago
unsung simian kindred beings suffering figurative
ruffled horse feathers nsync with bird in hand dodo
which latter species long extinct (as Dutch good eats)

now non sequitur (sea quitter) mine homeboys/girls
comprising Harris eventual clan (of craven lionized
"scapegoats" set genealogical precedent, and grew
some real winners gentiles, who commingled and
intermarried, and united proudly to kvetch as Jew)
eventually acquiring redeeming qualities conveniently
best caricatured as features exhibited by Mister MaGoo
invariably dear reader "fake" anecdote ye will poo poo
as well how storied and fabled coronavirus (COVID-19)

medical technicians reference quaint pandemic setting
figurative global stage brethren and sistern microbes
made webbed, wide world wish for said good ole days
cuz, communique done being crafted about six hours
marine hated, armies of beastie boys slain 2123 yahoo
the darndest, latest microscopic bugaboo nearly slew
entire population, hence envision terra firma with
divine providence absolute zero people as edenic
provenance (metaphorically offering tabula rasa view.

My mother got born November
thirteenth, nineteen hundred thirty five
within poverty stricken household
of Canarsie, Brooklyn, the youngest
(most mollycoddled) of four siblings,

experienced grinding poverty, no
matter maternal grandfather (Moishe
Kuritsky), a tailor he lacked drive
to support his family two parents +
remainder offspring, he helped sire

lacked positive role models, none the
less gumption taught her to strive
at tender age livid with rage to escape
caricature living poor, thus sought
employment when/wherever sheik hood

if necessary fibbed to survive
plus rash of healthy nurturing, and
absolute zero constraints, perhaps five
or thereabout years old attested
much later, suspected her papa did jive

with unspeakable improper behavior
(nobody dare discuss taboo issues),
yet intuition awoke within immoral
conclusion Harriet Kuritsky did arrive,
and perhaps resorted to stretching

the truth (fibbing a "white lie") the only
recourse available plied sweet innocence
knowing little or nothing about birds
feathering their nest, nor little about
buzzfeeding activity in beehive

naivete flirtatious coyness advantage worked,
I bet young thang did connive
and probably never did contemplate,
deliberate, generate and wrongdoing,
where mother of necessity spurred

angelic demureness strategy to contrive
securing bare necessities, hence fast
forward, when unsolicited advice given
to this sole son, or either sibling, (an older
& younger sister) tactics upbringing did deprive

ma mum of positive role models, hence
only blueprint to acquire essential needs
serendipitous series of unfortunate events
before Lemony Snicket did derive
school of hard knocks, (I do believe
formerly called Abraham Lincoln High)

rather than impugn, judge, revile, et cetera
kernels/nuggets of wisdom memory did revive
within my mind for rhyme, nor reason
blunt honesty, not always best policy
despite ten commandments
to husbands with many a wive.

Life lesson learned meant blurred line
between mendacity and truth
courtesy upbringing mommy dearest
if repeatedly drummed into me noggin
brutal honesty will bring nothing but bupkis,
or if you prefer the Yiddish spelling bobkes.

The following poem tweaked
courtesy original author who crafted
literary endeavor some couple years ago.

Now circa August 20th, 2122,
or 1930 military time,
yours truly attempted
drafting id est feeble rhyme
far from madding crowd,
nevertheless yet lovely
bones and flesh quite spry,
still considered prime
moost procreative, prodigious,
professorial and progressive

stage coach, since he capitalized
palsied belles-lettres
(case ye didn't know) approximately
eight score plus orbitz round
Earth's sun still noontime
chronologically - analogous
to protracted lunchtime,
whereat in summer re:
an average offspring royal
jetson or judicious daughter

born twenty two years
into twenty second century alive
and well (still hashtagged
as precocious) with drive
to safely, sidestep,
and surmount establishmentarian
archaic, formulaic, and
mosaic Judaic/Christian give
wry master of words (me)
take poetic license to jive
reasonably rhyming nope
heart tickle early bird misthrive

moost definitely ***** deeds
done dirt cheap (trick)
super tramping space
cowboy hobbing lobbying power-drive
re: frequently innocent
prelapsarian double entendre
(Jean Jacques Rousseau)
Noble Savage he doth strive
even though hanky panky
tinged entire his/her story,
**** sapiens animal husbandry
hastily did (oh Henry) wive.

Bajillion years after
proto humans experienced woe
countless figurative early
Brady bunched bro doggie
dimples encountered necessity
to escape cohabitation
(marital covenant alien),
yet quasi unbridled brouhaha
ofttimes witnessed altercation
begetting re: thorough

out baby with
bath water phenomena, which literal
cruel fate heavily peppered past (mine,
piper who got quite petered out) accounting
lamely explaining Pink Floyd
momentary status quo
upended accompanied courtesy
lapse of reason no

definitive evidence to substantiate claim,
yet I know
without darkly shadowed doubt
every friggin forebear ***
pining to savor manumission,
versus cotton pickin
back breaking stoop labor
think indentured escrow
harking back as webbed wide world turns
to days of our lives mainly bonobo

nasty, short and brute
**** creatures millenniums ago
unsung bipedal simian
kindred beings suffering figurative
ruffled horse feathers nsync
with bird in hand dodo
which latter species
long extinct (as Dutch good eats)

now non sequitur (sea quitter)
mine homeboys/girls
comprising Harris eventual
clan of craven lionized
"scapegoats" set genealogical precedent,
and (fantastically grew
like nose of Pinocchio,
some real winners gentiles,
who commingled and
intermarried, and united proudly
to kvetch as Jew

eventually acquiring
redeeming qualities conveniently
best caricatured as features
exhibited by Mister MaGoo
invariably dear reader
"fake" anecdote ye will poo poo
as well how storied and fabled
coronavirus (COVID-19)

medical technicians reference
quaint pandemic setting
figurative global stage
brethren and cistern microbes
made webbed, wide world
wish for said good ole days
cuz, communique done
being crafted about six hours

marine hated, armies
of Linkin Park - foo fighting
beastie boys slayed 2122 yahoos,
the darndest, hastiest, latest,
paunchiest piloted
microscopic bugaboo nearly slew
entire population, hence
envision terra firma with
divine providence
absolute zero people as edenic
provenance metaphorically
offering tabula rasa view.

Harmony in family unity
Strength in support coming from the community
Rochdale Wives all have different stories to tell
But you will find commitment in shell
One particular Rochdale Wive has a loving story
Read on with all its glory
It was 1970 when a Shareholder named Mary Lister moved into Group One
She was single and moving into a One Bedroom Apartment
It was going to be furnished with all her assortments
Then John Benjamin was also single and moved into Group 2 in the same year
Watch as something is going to preserver
Somewhere a love affair was going to become a moment by moment with romance getting a very little chance
It’s love that was going to build and grow
So it becoming an relationship moving very slow
Mary Lister and John Benjamin really took to really knowing each other and their backgrounds were exchanged
Mary Lister was a Manager at a Large Investment Banker Corporation
Now John Benjamin was a CPA Accountant
So they both were going over assets being what their dating relationship in portfolio would be
It was all about accessing
But Mary and John seemed to be intrigued with each other
It became not a date, but when into another date
Mary Lister made sure she wasn’t going to be late
Surprises into the main event
But something surprising at Rochdale that Mary Lister didn’t anticipate and had no expect, it was a proposal in the Big Mall in front of moving shoppers, and of course she accepted the hand of marriage of John Benjamin
So a year later, Mary Lister and John Benjamin became Man and Wife
It all happened through the Rochdale vision of possibilities
Yet one wonders what reaction to the proposal from John Benjamin if Mary Lister had of said No
I won’t even wait for an answer
Mary and John Benjamin are acquainted in everlasting bliss
What comes after is that Rochdale enchanted kiss
The beauty and commitment that will never be missed
The Rochdale spirit with merit
Walk on into Holy Matrimony
Connecting hearts as one
Man and Wife being among

My adventures might be behind me
Small Town small ahead
I like the little way
Helps me with the dread

Facebook has been fun
All those 80s ladies
St. Therese my favorite nun
Madonna, not Warren Beatty

Had a veggie sausage
Mustard and a side of fries
Honest Abe emancipates
George W. kills and lies

Prince all in Purple
1985
It's true I'm quiet and lonely
Still grateful to be alive

           I came alas to wive
    (but still my children thrive)

O! the isolation.
As they say: in my own world.

I'd like to be in hers
Naked except for pearls

Fantasies. Such fantasies!
For decades they do drive

My life is oh so boring
Swaggering cannot wive

In my mind she saves me
               Quixotic
              I contrive.

Delusions and psychoses
Had 'em and still have 'em

Minds never truly touch
She doesn't know me now from Adam

Life is meaningless
Yet here we are, alive

What then must we do
In this our struggle to survive?

                       Not wive.

                            Dive.

Predation bothers me a lot
I wonder: Why do You permit it?
But it's just the way life is
Struggle to survive

The silence is eternal
We disappear forever
They got Charles Darwin
Trapped out there on Highway 5

Lived twice in California
Son born in Santa Rosa
Home birth, no doctor
Happy to be alive

Drank tea in San Francisco
1 day at the Zen Center
Exploratorium
Misty fog makes me thrive

Saw Springsteen once in Oakland
He danced with a Hungarian girl
I really only danced in high school
Alas I came to wive

As I said, predation bothers
California dreaming
Many driven to extinction
Can silences revive?

Bulgaria,
08.40,leaving from sector 2
You pay with the driver
You can stick your head out of the window
Watch meadows and cows pass by
Chewing in indifference

The market is every wednesday
I wish they'd lay better pavement
1kg and one apple please
We want to have a bbq later
In the rain
You fill my heart
But my tummy can't keep up

Sure, the Dixi is available
But there is always the option of being a friend of nature
And **** in the woods
The cave is one of the biggest in Europe
Which means
It's tall enough to fit a horse
He told me, holding hands with his wive
Of over 30 years
They wouldn't let me pay for the ticket

A day in the park
People are peopling
Yes that's a word, now
I'm people too
Yet it irritates me when they remind me
Here, I picked these daisies
Three of them, they're for you
Ne razbiram, sorry
Caho, chao!

Did you know?
The black sea is milky
And cold

Portland to Seattle, we drive I-5
   Japanese garden, my spirit thrives
         Skyline, fine time - water to wive

                           we betroth thee, sea
                                     to Space, to strive

Waiting, waiting, waiting for her to show,
Thinking it's her but I am always wrong.
Searching for the one I can get to know,
The one I can love, that will make me strong.

Waiting, awaiting, remaining to wait.
I question if she will ever arrive,
You laugh however, I believe in fate,
She will come, a lovely mistress to wive.

Oh I will continuously linger
Until she comes. For I must have much faith.
How unreasonable to wait longer
Trust me, she must come, I do believeth.

Someone to pour my entire soul out too,
Just have to wait for exclusively you.

Emily mostly unknown in her life
Solitude in white

Mabel Loomis Todd
O! The Wild Nights!

Molly Malone in Dublin
Alive, alive, alive

Good Will Hunting in Boston
Fighting to survive

Me? Hey ** the wind and the rain
When I came to wive

Above to fly
Below to dive

No one important
Which is good for me
A few little poems
Lonely little life

Fatherhood is gratitude
Quietly the rain
DC metro train
Low level strife

            Alas to wive

No mystic mysteries tonight
Except the mystery of being alive

And now again vegetarian
Is the way that I survive

It's true my life is boring
The human mind a hive

Thoughts they buzz like bees
In silence I still thrive

If I had another chance
I'd bring her home to wive

Now it's off to sleep
When I wake for my sons

                       I'll strive.