Tag Archive | offbeat

Breath Of The Beast

The Inscrutable Heat

The process of digestion for demons is like
Global Warming. A chill up the spine is a sign
That things are getting hotter and so much the same
As it was in the sixties. When breath is aflame
There can be no concluding that everything’s fine
Yet we’ll speak with a blow torch beyond the hot mike.

I do this, but I like it. Need I be concerned
That such creature I might be? My words may burn through
Any means that presents them. Then what have I done
But ignited my message so that I’ve reached none
But perhaps those who have heated breath as I do?
I don’t need to get with them. That lesson I’ve learned.

When I don’t harbor hot breath do I find relief
In the moment for not being part of the hell
That is sprung up around me? Or do I mistake
My delusion for innocence? Peace I must make
With the human machinery within I dwell.
The life spans of most demons is known to be brief.

The Trapped Child Within

A Fleeting Depression

There’s a child within each of us who never grows
To objective maturity. Youth must remain
As a polar reflection. Survival depends
On the health of both child and adult. And our friends
Are often therapeutic for sharing the pain
To elicit support. All this everyone knows.

I believe in self-discipline. As an adult
I must do some adjusting and put on an act
That conceals my pure innocence. Who am I then
But a set of instructions? Both women and men
Evolve toward self-awareness as evident fact.
But we don’t know each other. Behold the result.

Serious is the tone, and substantial issues
Surely fuel the frustration. Today’s will soon pass
‘Til the next shiny toy finds its way to my view.
There is much play that my child is willing to do
That my grownup façade makes me not a jackass.
This is just a reflection and meant to amuse.

Get A Mask!

Incumbent Departure

Get A Mask, valued countrymen, while supplies last!
Since this hoax is the real thing, I’ve got a great deal.
Stock up now on my Trump mask. The money you save
You can use to support me. I cannot behave
So I’ll need a small fortune. I’ve none to conceal
But I do have an unworthy financial past.

Get A Mask because I say you must show respect
To me as the one person who knows anything.
I’m surrounded by lions and tigers and bears
And, Oh My… a few assholes! But nobody cares.
Get your big discount coupon. I’ll need you to sing
To the tune of my victory. Then you’ll collect.

Why have I changed my tune so abruptly, you ask?
I must act presidential or give it a try
When I’m backed into corners. The oath that I took
Is a lie as I say it again. I’m A Crook.
You’ll support my campaign fund if you’d only buy
A huge bunch of my product. Be up to the task.

Why Did God Make The Clear Man?

Confronting Clarity

Why Did God Make The Clear Man? Their thin see-through skin
Is a damned thing to deal with. Why can’t they wear paint?
We are better than they because we are opaque.
Hopelessly they’re transparent. That God would forsake
Such a group means that part of our species they ain’t!
Have I right to condemn them? And where to begin?

I need something to piss on or rag on about.
It relieves me from feeling that I’m incomplete.
If I point to another all focus drawn there
Will then help me to bypass my own deep despair
That my kind is at war with its baseless conceit.
Any rights they have coming we’re eager to flout.

If you happen to be clear and human do know
That you cannot take personally how we all
Handle fear while we’re human, unless it hits home.
Then it becomes a dark place where demons will roam.
So be clear if you want to. It may be our fall
If we can’t be one species then we should all go.

There can be but one image from which all are made.
Logic clearly must dictate that diversity
Is the integral framework in all that exists.
So the infinite drama of raising our fists
May be as it must happen and always shall be.
Is our moving beyond this forever delayed?

oSphere

Cosmic Interdependence

We are here to support her. That tough girl, oSphere,
Faces fierce opposition from others than us.

What we do is a good thing. As we move through space
We surround her with influence as our embrace.
It reflects our own drama. Her offspring discuss
Way too little of us. It’s the root of their fear.

She’s our loving kid sister. oSphere, like a ball,
Provides something to play with. Do kids treat her well?
We can see that her health suffers from child abuse
In reverse as they use us as their lame excuse.
But we act in accordance not with the same spell
But the one cast upon the behaviors of all.

We could say we’re all family, and it is true
That oSphere needs attention. We do what we can
By performing our drama to show her the ways
Energies interact with free will. You may raise
Your vibration despite drama. That was the plan
And still is through eternity. What will you do?

oSphere is your dear mother. We uncles and aunts
Of your sole local sol group just want you to know
That we’ll keep on performing. The show must go on
So that all of God’s children become sacred spawn
Through divine intervention. Regard our fine show
As our teaching. oSphere has not all that she wants.

OutThere Outdareyaquine

The Team Player's Cure

Have you heard of his new drug? It’s really out there.
May our minds remain mangled. We love him to Death!
Anything he suggests not only will we try

But we’ll will our souls to him in case we may die.
The commander is chiefly of virulent breath
And it bothers us not that he just doesn’t care.

May the hoax elevate us in these final days
To the stature of manhood with God on our side.
Who alone can out dare us and keep a cold face?
We don’t care what he’s taking. Therefore no disgrace
Will he earn from we sick ones. We take utmost pride
In our silk-suited orange ape. To him we give praise.

The Fifth Avenue massacre is in full swing
And it takes place all over. No state will be saved.
As he keeps reaching out there he’ll grab the right cure
For ourselves and the unworthy. We shall endure
All that his dare subjects us to. We are depraved.
We’ve no sense of reality nor does our king.

The Daily Report

Much To Absorb

One who steps as he fetches is not a lame duck
Until cool aided followers come wide awake
To the fact that their leader is one quack away
From becoming a fine dinner served on a tray
For strong people of color and power who’ll take
Everything he may own. Am I in for good luck?

There are more germs on doorknobs than those at the end
Of the standard male organ. Keep Everything clean!
There are doors of all colors still out in the streets

Among those who have none nor that which one excretes.
And does anyone know the difference between
Virulent organisms and those that transcend?

Excuse this interruption… There’s news for your eyes!
This award winning product will make your eyes well.
From the makers of White Sight it makes you see right…!
Now, back to today’s headlines… on into the night.

You and we here can tell you we’re under a spell.
But if you’re not a messenger you may be wise.

And the forecast tomorrow…? It’s gonna get dark
Just the same as today was. There may be a chance
Of some light shown upon us to give all relief.
That is why our profession may make our lives brief.
While engaged with the drama, a delicate dance
Demonstrates that it will be no walk in the park.

Inward Harmony

Balance Between Conscious and Subconscious

Do I need to go inward to then run it down?
Or does running it downward come from deep within?
I’m not that good at questions. They do mess me up.
If I think there are answers I need a checkup
From the neck up and further. I’ll take my chagrin
With a smirk of acceptance instead of a frown.

Life is truly harmonious in a pig’s eye
If that eye is within me and does me no harm.
I’m not without when within the depths of my soul.
Does it not mean I can’t behave like an asshole?
I’ll leave that to the poets. I’ll give them alarm
Not because they deserve it. It just gets me high.

But about going inward to seek harmony…
Some achieve it by nature. The old in and out
Is a tried and true method of reaching that goal
But if that’s not an option, you’re not a lost soul.
Going inward eliminates much of the doubt
That my life and its meaning were all meant to be.

A Fleeting Flamboyance

The Loftier Side

In the cluster Flamboya in deep cosmic space
Spins a pitiful planet. One does take delight
In the notion that negative will cancel out
Anything that is like it with but a loud shout
But the throat becomes raw there so it isn’t quite
The best place for the soft spoken fettered with grace

Often I pay a visit there simply to see
How the elegant beings there get through their days.
And at times I am told It’s no business of mine.
I must say, “Very well, then. Your silence is fine.”
There’s a reason for courtesy that’s not always

At my ready avail when I’m other than me.

When I get back to earth usually I’ll find
That I might not have been there but made a mistake.
I may live in both places perhaps through time share.
Maybe that’s why at times they are hard to compare
While I sleep do I travel, or when I’m awake?
That is part of the puzzle that plays with the mind.

Recursive Assertion

Over Exposure of Ego

Do I hear a loud echo? And could it be me?
With the voices of others it’s so hard to tell.
Deep within a sound chamber enclosed by four walls
I can’t hear myself feeling amid all the calls
For a cure to psychosis and trickle down hell.
What’s become of this nation one clearly can see.

Knowing I’m not alone, need I know something more?
We’ve been made to feel helpless – not by a disease
Of a virulent nature, but by wholesale greed.
We The People are stronger not feeling in need
To succumb to the bullshit that everyone sees.
There’s a pimp in the white house, and we are the whore.

Justice comes hard and swiftly to those who are poor.
But it does not exist for the thugs now in charge.
Evil is the one threat that, if not kept in check,
Does take over the engine and cause a train wreck
That third world leaders envy. Our fate, by and large,
Is determined by what we are forced to ignore.

Advancing That Notion

Tactful But Fearless

Can I make an impression with just a big smile
And a tiger of confidence caged in my soul?
I most certainly doubt that most people would see
Any point that I make in a way that suits me
Unless it’s made brute forcefully. It is my goal
To make sure that I’m listened to once in a while.

Now, I can be quite sociable when I’m at ease
With not much to impart to my circle of friends.
But when I get a notion that people should hear
They’d damned well better listen or I’ll show them fear.
Would one feel that I’m right seeing life through my lens?
I’m one hell of a bastard to try to appease!

Otherwise I am charming and soft like a dove.
Never mind that my bat I may keep by my side.
Just pretend it’s not there if you think that I’m cool.
If I’m not it makes no sense to then play your fool.
All I want is respect. This not about pride.
When housekeeping is done we may speak about love.

Led To Excess

Too Much of a Mediocre Thing

Having fun while it lasts may be one thing to do
And another may be to command some restraint.
If I feel like indulging to my heart’s delight
Until something inside me is not feeling right
It will put out my wildfire. Then I will feel faint.
I’m way out of my league when I’ve too much to chew.

I exaggerate goodness, and sometimes that’s bad.
As my stomach grows smaller my eyes become big.
I just want to play hooky from any hard school
And behave as I please. Maybe acting the fool
May reveal if I’m human or much like a pig
With immutable entrails that are iron clad.

I’m not feeling like royalty alone while in place
So I notice the error in what has become
A new routine unstructured. Can I gain control
Of my loss of ambition and take back my soul
From confounded complacency? Life is ho hum
Until I take a moment to get off my case.

These Bowels

Entrails Exposed

These Bowels toil through the night just for you.
These times are hard enough to get through.
The onus on us is no urgent fuss.
You give us your trust, and we take it. We don’t fake it.

These Bowels Are Moving
These Bowels have seen a lot of waste
And they’re always gonna see another load when it comes from you.

These Bowels Are Moving
These Bowels have seen a lot of waste
And they’re always gonna see another load when it comes from you.

These Bowels Are Moving
These Bowels have seen a lot of waste
And they’re always gonna see another load when it comes from you.

These Bowels are working in support to your cause
This work we do with no thought to what was.
We do this for free. We hope you can see
That you’re worth it. Why not mirth it?

Joint And Final Affairs

Preponderant Emotional Encounter

Beginnings are like endings in so many ways
That they often are seamless. Sometimes we can’t tell
What they are or they are not so we are resigned
To accepting whatever our lost hope can find.
If it’s found in a place that competes with Bethel
Then it’s wise to prepare for this time’s final phase.

It’s not always a heartbreak. Sometimes there’s relief
From all feeling and thought for at least an eon.
Parting is no sweet sorrow. It has not a taste
Nor an alternate function but expelling waste.
When there’s peace in the parting, the prickle is gone.
So when looked at that way, one’s made out like a thief.

All affairs become final. Some blossom through age.
Others last for an instant to then pass away
To subconscious oblivion. Why are we here?
It has so much to do with how we handle fear.
There will be much rejoicing on that final day.
Until then, there’s this journey that I must engage.

Feel The Heat

Confidence In Relationships

Calculated, the coolness, through heart, comes erect.
Instantly, the eternal is taken to flight.
I’ll find gratification in what I create.
Immersed in self-expression while transforming hate
Into something aesthetic, I pray that I might
Have found just the solution that I can respect.

Life is less of a burden when energy flows
In accordance with patterns ordained by the nerves.
Passion pumps through the system to compress the air
To uplift sympathetically, with loving care,
Heated hearts of the spirit who truly deserves
Some relief from restrictions that life may impose.

Simple, friendly aggression, the kind felt in sport,
Yet with heart super-heated to such a degree
That it jumpstarts behavior is something to feel.
I can see life as mental but is my life real?
I cannot take for grated that which can move me
Toward creative fulfillment because life is short.

Livid Liver Of Life

Arrhythmic Logic

Livid Liver Divided By One Over Life
Equals some kind of symbol. But don’t ask me now
What the hell it might stand for. It’s damned to make sense
If my wrath be the dearth of me. I’ll take offense
To any mathematics who cannot allow
The lost least of life livers who linger in strife.

So, I’m pissed off a lot. Any liver would be
In full-on agitation as numbers prevail
In the lives of all livers so lives loom in lack.
I’m so livid I’m prone to a liver attack.
My inverse multiplicative is doomed to fail
If I don’t get an answer immediately.

I’m an arrogant liver and often too proud
Of a life I’ve imagined but haven’t lived out.
Must I then mind the meaning of what I have lost?
When my math doesn’t add up who suffers the cost?
I intuit without any semblance of doubt
That my anger won’t fix things. That can’t be allowed.

False Optimism

The Devil Beware

This is not quite the best time to quit my day job.
I could learn a few lessons as time is my friend.
Must I learn how to tune life if I want to play
With all fresh water fishermen? What a fine day
To make hay of confusion! I need not depend
On a firm grip on anything but a doorknob.

I don’t seem to be practical, but that’s ok.
Luck I keep in spare pockets for times such as these.
Quantum physics explains things pure logic cannot
And provides good excuses for times that are fraught
With an intrinsic weirdness that weakens the knees.
Though my hope is unfounded, I’ll have it my way.

Not a soul needs to worry. I think I’ll do fine.
The outlook is outstanding. My freak is full on.
The whole gig is nocturnal – from dusk unto dusk.
If I seem inefficient and all the while brusk
It’s because of the real threat of impending dawn.
I work best in the dark where my talent can shine.

Be Kind To The Toilet

Toilet Temperament

Do be kind to your toilet. It takes tons of crap.
Though that’s what it was made for, it wants for a break
From the forceful expulsion of vile human waste
From a family of asses whose bowels are fast paced.
It performs well its duty, but make no mistake
What it has to put up with feels much like a trap.

Connected to the sewer or some funky place,
What is gulped down is passed with each masterful flush.
Never mind where that stuff goes. It’s clear out of sight.
Vanishing if by magic, it only seems right.
Whether solid and serpentine or just a mush
It will make it go bye bye. What provident grace!

That old bowl needs a cleaning once every short while.
It informs you of that in its own special ways.
But it needs more attention. It likes to stay clean.
It wants someone to talk to. On whom can it lean?
So, converse with your toilet and give it due praise.
It will bless you profusely and keep a big smile.

Take A Break

Self-Maintenance

Take full comfort in knowing your place on the earth
Is prepared in advance of your humble debut.
Barrow time is expressive. Creation is fun.
Making time to relax cannot be overdone.
Take a well-deserved break from the work that you do.
It is up to you only to value your worth.

Be romantic and playful with your given time.
By directing the drama you set yourself free
From the things that cause stress and do harm to the health.
Taking care of oneself is the key to true wealth.
What could be more important to you than to be
In a state of contentment? It’s truly sublime.

You work hard at your living and making ends meet.
To maintain your alignment with all that you are
Is of ultimate value in playing your part
In the world’s evolution. The beat of your heart
Satisfies as the timepiece efficient by far
To the humdrum machine of the cherished elite.

The Appearance Of Invisibility

Invisible Walk In The Rain

Most days pass somewhat normally. Others take me
Through a cognitive twilight zone where I exist
Not as solid and real in this physical plane
As all others. And, knowing that this sounds insane,
Should I take full advantage (if I can’t resist)
Of my most selfish instincts while others don’t see?

I can disappear instantly then reappear
Sometimes seemingly in more than one time and space.
Like a giant scale quark or a chameleon
I can often trick people. I could call it fun
Were I sure there’s no danger of undue disgrace
For unnoticed behavior performed in the clear.

People often can’t see me. How I see the glass
Is half full of potential as I form a lens
That reflects my humanity in the same light
All are illuminated in. This fresh insight
Leaves me not so transparent that notice depends
On how much an enigma can imitate class.

Why Forefathers Wore Wigs

Declaration of Decoration

Prim and proper forefathers were called the big wigs
At a time when men’s fashion included much hair.
Only rich people owned them in the beginning
But the trend became widespread. It soon was a Thing.
No man would be caught bald. People would laugh and stare
And they’d ruthlessly cast one in league with the pigs.

But how wigs became popular is peculiar.
Mothers of odd inventions are essence of same.
Most of Europe was plagued by a nasty disease
In the late fifteen hundreds. Through analyses
Of the symptoms most prevalent they put the blame
On a thing we call syphilis. My, how bizarre!

The significant outcomes are chronic hair loss,
Funky issues with head sores and persistent lice
From the wig made of goat and horse hair. So they would
Powder them with some lavender so they’d smell good.
The founders of our nation, in great sacrifice,
Have become honored headstones who gather no moss.

Brashville Buyline

American Collage

Lay Lady Lay
Lay across my big brass bed.
You say it’s your bed too?
I’ll insist it’s mine instead.
Whatever feminine tricks are up your sleeve
I’ll turn them around, then I’ll make you leave

Lay Lady Lay
Lay across my big brass bed.
Pray Lady Pray
Pray that you don’t live a life of dread,
If things turn out that way
Perhaps it’s best if you were dead.

My mind is dirty and my style is mean
And in the sack I’m a stud muffing machine.

Play Lady Play
Play with yourself a – while.
I’d like to watch as you
Penetrate yourself and smile.

Work yourself into a frenzy and cry out loud
Then I’ll join in and ride the wave
When we get good we can perform for a crowd
We’ll be happy for all we gave.

Pay Lady Pay
Pay some mind to your fine man
In each and every day, let him you really can

I like to see my woman down on her knees
She must give head and swallow too
Our frigging lifestyle is a mental disease
You and I both know it’s true

Stay Lady Stay
Stay as the time is worth your while

Carrotface

Psychotic Armaggedon

People know of my orange glare. It’s now world renowned.
All I have in this world is my balls and my face.
Who puts all things together? I do. I trust Me.
You’ll get used to the rust flush eventually.
I’m entitled to everything due to my race
Even though I’m not qualified nor am I sound.

This great nation is pussy that begs to get fucked.
I’m the best one to do it with help from my boss.
In my own right I’m ruthless but he is supreme.
I endeavor to be like him. That is my dream.
What I crave is some bitch’s face to cum across.
I’ve a God given right to abuse and obstruct.

All cockroaches and rabbits succumb to my rule.
They will eat of my face and drink my precious blood.
They will bow down and worship unto my command.
Those who take a good fucking sit at my right hand.
History will ensure that my name will be mud.
I’ll be known through eternity as The Orange Fool.

Every Good Snowball’s Chance

Winter Doodle

Liquid, solid and steam are the natural forms
Water makes its appearance. The snowball is one
Most aesthetic in nature. Formed into a sphere
By the hands become magic in mood cavalier,
One considers the snowball the essence of fun
Even when in the midst of aggressive snowstorms.

Every chance that a snowball could hope to attain
Completely by its own merits should not include
Being cast like a bad human soul into hell.
Idioms of psychosis in common hearts dwell.
To me, such an analogy seems awfully crude
Because it’s not uplifting; therefore, there’s no gain.

But then I’m not complaining. This world is just fine.
I enjoy frosty winters. The child within me
Wants to find other children and play in the snow.
I won’t disrespect snowballs. They were made to throw…
Not to mingle with thought forms of catastrophe.
All our chances are fluid, as if by design.

Free Range Peeves

Surprise Annoyances

Peeves are lousy as pets. How they get on one’s nerves
At most inopportune moments just to say, “Hi.
We’re so glad that you chose us. We won’t go away.
We’re programmed to disrupt you throughout your long day.”

I regret that I have them. They oft make me cry.
It’s a tough situation that no one deserves.

So, I bought some new storage – a network cloud drive.
Now that it’s been connected, it wants to make friends.
Did I ask for a friend, yet one without a soul?
Any app that gets friendly just wants to control
More than I had intended. To what selfish ends
Does it give me such grief? I’ve no will to survive.

And these damned pets are free range. They migrate about
In a haphazard manner. They up and go pop.
Like most arrogant weasels, they act on their own.
If I click on the app, nothing useful is shown.
If I cannot disown them, should I try to stop
Their aggressive behavior? I struggle with doubt.

Pet Peeves are a fine nuisance. All should be called strays.
The worst ones that are free range deserve the most care.
When a seller’s fine product continues to sell,
Too Much Mouth has the helper that may function well.
But you screw with desktop icons. How would you dare?
It is best that I end here. I haven’t much praise.

Animated Suspension )Versus Vice Versa(

Existence Between States

Suspended Animation, as most of us know,
Is a state where activity comes to a halt
Or is made to creep slowly, as if by some force
Totally supernatural. What is the source
Of this lame definition? Indeed, who’s at fault?
There’s a whole lot more to this, as I will now show.

One must first find the inverse. Though non sequitur
In its mirror reflection, trust that it makes sense
As a logical theory, just as is with math.
Seeing from this perspective is surely the path
To cosmic understanding and wisdom immense.
Both worlds are parts of one so that growth may occur.

We’re Suspended in life here and Animated
In a way that is cumbersome. Bodies are weak.
But when we move to Spirit, Suspension must cease.
We’re no longer in motion. The Spirit knows peace.
Animation, in Spirit, is much too oblique
For our flesh minds to fathom because they’re flesh fed.

Animated Suspension is that other state
Where we are when we leave here – this thing we call earth.
We’re Suspended from life here to Animate there
With an infinite freedom and life without care
‘Til it comes time we’re moved to consider rebirth.
Neither world is the better. In both we create.

Toy Surprise

Anticipated Excitement

Should I wait ‘til sunrise for my big Toy Surprise?
I could do breakfast now while erupting in bed.
No one else needs to join me. From in my small room
I can text who I want to to postpone the gloom
That would otherwise show me that I am mislead.
If I have to be friendly, then can I be wise?

It began with the boomers – those crafted amid
Times of rectification of their perceived wrongs.
They invented invention, then put it on stage.
Those who followed have carried us to a new age.
A deep inherent restlessness clearly belongs
In the process evolving as it always did.

Wherein lies the excitement? Within the device?
That seems somewhat perverted, yet it matters nil.
Such may be said of my complicated machine.
Had I contact with others, I wouldn’t be mean.
Do the toys that I play with rob me of free will?
Need I have them to know if I’m naughty or nice?

Butt Science Asshology

Climate Fate

Climate science is one that has taken some heat.
Many pseudo sciences become the real thing
After years of persistence with none to oppose
What their goals and their premises are. In the throes
Of emergent world crises, what hope might they bring
That the butt holding office will soon see defeat?

The fine art of Asshology thus came about
When the need to decipher the demonic realm
Manifested in essence some three years ago
When we bent for a butt fucking, rock hard and slow.
To predict when perversion will reach overwhelm
Is the goal of Asshology without a doubt.

So the chart of the asshole one needs to construct.
Fairly gross a procedure, it’s fundamental
As a tool to make sense of the drama at play.
Wise folk eons before us could foresee this day.
Human actions are finite in time’s rationale.
We know well he who lives to Abuse and Obstruct.

There’s No Meeting Tomorrow

Treasurehouse of Hopes

I was told there’s not meeting. Should that be good news?
Or should there be disgruntlement and some concern
That we elder club members have lost interest
In why we’ve come together? I gave it my best
But my path leads elsewhere. I can let this adjourn
Until late in eternity. I’ve naught to lose.

Apathy blends with yuletide as dust infects air.
It needs freedom from stasis to acting in ways
That are Christmas Card Cordial. The garland of heart
Is the basis for recrafting the new year’s start.
We decide what is meaningful throughout our days.
That can change in a heartbeat and folks shouldn’t care.

I prepare for the meeting as duty dictates
How the heart of the soldier behaves at its best.
Am I here to take orders and march in a war?
If this army’s not for me, then am I done for?
I’ll return to the clubhouse perhaps as a guest.
Now the meeting is cancelled. What Freedom Awaits!

Erection Meddling

Intercollusion

When we hold our erections, we want none involved.
We abhor interference from forces outside
This place we call our own. Keep your hand far away.
If you can’t respect boundaries, at least obey
Your own sense of perversion? Why sully your pride?
You should get your subconscious, through Sigmund, resolved.

Our erections are sacred. We hold them freely.
It’s our right and an honored tradition. That’s why
Sex abuse is illegal throughout most the globe.
As your winged, peeping monkeys watch as we disrobe,
We would wish it’s good for you, but that you not try
To tell us that a hand job from you is our key.

I’m prepared for Erectionfest this time around.
The last time that we had one, a strange, foreign touch
Assaulted my excitement. My heat took a dive.
For the next, we’re enhanced with a stronger sex drive.
Once again, our erections we venerate much.
We now know where that hand is. Indeed it’s been found.

Toward The Latter Day Thaterday

Time And Innocence

I would call this day that day were it not today.
If I knew not the names of the days of the week,
I’d be free as the daylight. Times savings, for me,
Is to strict an absurdity. If I could see
Why daylight requires saving, would I be unique?
I know no one who knows why… just what others say.

And what they say is nonsense. Commerce is the cause
For the shifting of daytime so people spend more?
Now, two thirds of the year we live in fantasy
Somewhat anchored in nature and reality.
Between daylight and nighttime evolves civil war.
I’ve become too accustomed to knowing what was.

I’ll look forward to Thaterday. Should it arrive
In one third of a sudden, would it be too soon?
Daylight borrowed at no interest is obscene.
If we trick mother nature, we can’t call her mean.
Thaterday, once invented, no one will impugn.
We shall treat time with honor, as if we were five.

Specific Non-Locations

Nebulous Space

Where Am I, Since I know very well that I am
And don’t mind what I’m made of? It’s just good to grow.
This haystack of a cosmos, to needles like me,
Is too much to imagine… that is, completely.
I’ve heard tell of a ‘pale blue dot’ from a fellow
With a heart born of wisdom. But who gives a damn.

If I wanted someone from a galaxy far
To come visit my world, to direct that one would
Present me with a problem. I know not where I
Am located. Such ignorance can make one shy.
Could a wise postal physicist do me some good
In addressing where I am, or is this bizarre?

Non-Locations Specific are scattered throughout
The complex of the cosmos. Our travel is done
By the means of vibration and focus of mind.
Dimensions of existence to which we’re assigned
Provide lessons for living. Sometimes they are fun.
I’m within an earth schoolhouse. Of this there’s no doubt.

Progress, Not Perfection

Time On Display

When to settle for Progress and not Perfection
Is no matter to make of enormous import.

Perfection is an ideal. It stands on its own.
Progress leads to Perfection sometimes, it is shown,
But the groaning, as time passes, tends to distort
Much of life through the process. This isn’t much fun.

Perfection is the Finish – when things will get done.
So it means that some time is supposed to transpire.
It’s one thing to sit waiting. Yet that’s not enough,
The damned Progress that’s shown me is of fecal stuff.
The Operating System indeed is a liar.
It updates frequently but with data half spun.

How come one moment I’m told that two hours remain
Then the next, it’s increased an enormous degree?
If it’s not good at simple math, I can relate
But to make it my day job would mess with my fate.
Software mimics our leaders quite accurately.
Anything offered to us we take with a grain.

Don’t rely on The System to offer it all.
That a piece of the puzzle sometimes falls in place
Can be seen as a blessing. Imperfect are we
So much so that the things that we make must agree.
 One profound micro mirror could reflect our grace.
Even though we’re not perfect, we tend to stand tall.

Ha Mun Of Tu Tank

Levity

The Ha Mun of Tu Tank would have no one to thank
For not being left tankless upon his demise
Were it not for his subjects, firm in their belief
That a king should be tankful and free of all grief
That he might not have at least two tanks when he dies.
When we speak of this old one, we need to be frank.

If an army has two tanks instead of just one,
One can know that it’s better, for double the strength
It will have for offending and for its defense.
The good diver with two tanks uses common sense.
That’s why old kings of Egypt went to any length
To ensure tanks were plentiful instead of none.

So, Ha Mun was of Tu Tank and could have had three
But he wouldn’t be greedy, for that would imply
That he could take them with him into the beyond.
With the contents of tanks not a soul can abscond.
We can see that the number of tanks we deny
Is the key to contentment and freedom to be.

The Most Elegant Muscle

The Fractal Nature of Biological Process

With its fractal-like structure, the iris compares
To a doughnut of fluid suspended freely
Of its own subtle substance. This muscle of grace
Is a wonderous marvel as much as deep space.
It’s a keen work of art, and it helps us to see.
We make use of it constantly in all affairs.

Why the iris has color and complex design
Is a thing known to something much larger than we.
So we can only wonder. As we speculate
Perhaps that would seduce us from feeding our hate
While it prepares a space where we all can agree
That survival depends on our being benign.

The iris is constructed to limit the light
That can enter the orbit. Too much light will cause
It to grow tense and full. But too little light will
Make for full relaxation. Its nerve is made still.
We can honor the elegant iris because
It’s a blessing to those of aberrant insight.

TidyHoe

Marketing Field

Does one keep the hoe tidy when it’s not in use
In the dark, deranged desert beneath the full moon?
Can the crust of dirt gathered that can’t be knocked off
Be at least submersed silly? What cure do I scoff
Since my own virgin land is a cluttered sand dune?
I will stick the damned hoe in a bottle of juice!

TidyHoes can be made so soon after they’re done
With the business of making their marks on the fields
Of our human potentials by soaking them clean
In a solvent solution to place in a scene
Near a tall standing genie whose providence yields
The insurance that’s needed to brighten the sun.

Where is TidyHoe found? Can I order online?
Or perhaps there’s a big supply kept underground?
It’s produced in abundance in places unknown
Then it’s beamed to this sense forsaken Twilight Zone.
Due respect for the tidy can always be found
And sometimes when it’s given, life seems to align.

Hard Drive

Spatial Data Exposure

How much storage is left on this thing we call earth?
Many people have lived here since it’s been in use.
People may be concerned that we’ve not enough room
For the future. Indeed, we have visions of doom
At our own hands. We are like a virus let loose
On a path of destruction. What’s come of our worth?

We’ll admit it’s a Hard Drive to get to the top
Of one’s chosen profession or life as a whole.
Every life lived is sequenced in logical ways
That defy what is heartfelt through most of our days.
Perhaps defragmentation is good for the soul.
It’s not like we can find a new Hard Drive to swap.

Silicon is like plastic we cast to the sea
To outweigh all the life there. We’ve made of the air
Something suited for vaping. A bleak humansphere
Is not something that has to be looked at with fear.
There are way many people who fervently care
That this fast spinning Hard Drive continues to be.

With Eyes Off The Perpend

Wall of Analysis

Parallelness is tricked as it can perpendict
At no other locations than ninety degrees.
So to stay parallel can be done fairly well
When revealed that the strong perpendicular fell
Through a crack in the mortar when it had to sneeze.
Such a thing shouldn’t happen if properly bricked.

But what brick can admit that, solid as they are
Whether laid on their sides or prepared to stand tall?
Truth among brick is baseless and of no degree
That can be safely measured and accurately.
Most unnatural acts are done to the brick wall
When destructed in haste and without a memoir.

Don’t pretend that prepends are perpendicular
To stuff above and under them – not to their sides.
One should act with conviction expressing belief
In perpendicularity, as this is chief
In the building of structures where faith are the guides.
Keep your sense of alignment from flying too far.

Rationalization Of Pain

Objectification Of Fear

People utilize pain pills. They do a fine job
But they are problematic and otherworldly.
Addicted to their side effects, folks then become
Naturalized as an alien. Feeling made numb
In an effort to banish pain but completely
Is a crisis most urgent. Life Force does it rob.

Yet there is a solution to deal with deep pain.
One can look at it upright and study its parts.
In a rational context they all look like fear
That the way of existence is rather austere.
The nerve throbbing profoundly is how it all starts.
It is good to know that pain is not felt in vain.

I cannot dramatize it nor give it import.
As a signal, its job is serene and secure
Like the crash of electrons throughout their highway.
Drama only moves traffic and causes dismay.
If pain is seen as plastic, may I then endure?
Would I feel much less of it were I to fall short?

Saint Peter Was Once Just A Rock

Mineral Tribute

I take metempsychosis as I do most things
Like a big grain of salt I can study with care.
Those before me, like Plato and Pythagoras
Were most elegant thinkers no one could outclass.
Before I had heard of them, I was not aware
Of the bounty of wisdom philosophy brings.

The most unified theory of all that exists
Is so woefully wanting. The puzzle remains
Hopelessly uncompleted. I want to know more
Than the flesh can reveal. I have been here before.
From a source otherworldly the wise one obtains
Information restricted as nature insists.

There is never an ending. The Big Bang is part
Of an unending cycle of absolute change.
Consciousness is infused throughout all the expanse.
Everything is a soul which is given the chance
To evolve through all matter. Does this sound too strange?
For a ride in the Theme Park, it’s somewhere to start.

Who Is That Strange Soul?

enigma

Life speeds by rather quickly from this vantage point.
It’s just like at the movies, but I am there too.
My believing it is me, though it’s crystal clear,
Is a grand paradox – one that causes me fear,
Not of that which is unknown, but of this post view.
I can’t be that strange fellow. Why such a disjoint?

Have I acted so foolishly? I guess I did.
Somehow I can’t deny I’m the actor played there
Who appears ill and clumsy while caught in the light.
I thought I was a peaceful soul. This one does fight.
He would have people know that they’d better beware.
Indeed, when he gets angry he acts like a kid.

Has there been a mistake? This review can’t be mine.
Some screwup has occurred in the Akashic Vault.
One bored astral librarian made a mistake.
But who is there to check that? No sense does it make.
And can those who are in charge say this is my fault?
If I suspend all judgment, will things work out fine?

The Trials And Triumphs Of Tina Treasuretoosh

Showoff

When one’s toosh is a treasure, life can become strange.
For oneself, the ambition to stand out in crowds
Is a righteous and just one and follows the need
To be noticed and envied. We’ll fail or succeed
By the free wills of others. Vanity enshrouds
All the parts of our bodies that we think can change.

Parts are part of the parcel we dare to enhance.
To give one part attention more so than the rest
Is what people fall into because of demand
Of our parts-centered natures. Who can’t understand
How it can be offensive if wrongly expressed?
No one should have to fear that they’re taking a chance.

Some big butts are a magnet to wide erect eyes
That don’t mind stimulation. Tina knows for sure
She is much more than her cultivated asset.
Those who can’t realize that are not her regret.
She proceeds with a fine ass and heart that is pure,
Knowing that all the parts we have are a disguise.

Keep Your Gum Off The Bedpost

Common Place

Keep You Gum Off The Bedpost. It’s not the right place
To park something retrieved from its oral abode
Entertained by the teeth, tongue and tonsils by day.
At nighttime can it be wise to treat it this way?
Gum cannot remain safe when its pace has been slowed.
It’s as if a good runner is pulled from his race.

And when parked on the bedpost, the germs in the air
Are free to make a fine home of its resting mass.
Gum will regain full flavor, not of what it had
But of crap in the funky air, and this is sad.
Any fool who would do this is quite the jackass.
One who chews funky putty needs wise mental care.

One must use proper hygiene when dealing with gum…
Never mind that the bedpost, because it’s erect
Through the night in a dark room may give someone pause,
Why put something disgusting back between your jaws?
The harm put upon gum from nocturnal neglect
Can come back to upset one and make one feel dumb.

Do I Need A Co-Writer?

Programmed Terminal Distraction

Hanging on past my world worth, I seek not my own
Group of lighthearted losers. Alone I decay.
One misspoken raw truth or a social faux pas
Once a day should not get me involved with the law
Nor should it take my birthright to be here away.
Nature does still support me in its Twilight Zone.

Gnats don’t help with my writing. They get in the way.
I’ll assume that it’s personal then take offense.
Their obscene aeronautics hijacks attention
Even if there’s no light source. They do this for fun.
They are faster than I, so it makes perfect sense
That for such a transgression I shall make them pay.

While in flight, I can spray them with something that burns.
Rubbing alcohol works well. A delicate mist
Knocks them flat on their asses. I take much delight
Because now they’re so dazed they can’t put up a fight.
When they start fucking with me, I cannot resist
Brushing up on my mayhem against all concerns.

As they frantically gasp and flail after they fall
I now master the last laugh and take back some pride.
As I watch them grow weaker, I’ll spray them again.
They’ve messed with the wrong creature among insane men.
As I see that they’re hopeless, I feel good inside.
After that, I will kill them. My wrath isn’t small.

Do I draw such contempt from those of my own kind?
Do I act out in consequence of being cursed
As a highflying nuisance disrupting the show?
That I know nothing of it causes me to grow.
Someday I’ll cease my wars, but right now I’m submersed
In one of my own making. It’s all in the mind.

As Long As The Pigs Can Pay…

Great Law!

Lord knows I need a living. I must make ends meet.
There is scant litigation to feast on these days.
Law degrees are a dime for a dozen or so.
Some who earn them are criminals for what they know.
I can make some big money with alternate ways
Of observing behaviors of those who eat meat.

To some, pork is inferior. It has a smell.
On a cellular level it is quite less than
Something healthy and sacred for people to eat.
People’s unyielding prejudices are complete
With the backlash of pig populations that span
Pretty much of the country. I do serve them well.

We have formed a class action for pigs who protest.
All who are U.S. certified have legal rights
To due process if they feel they’re looked down upon.
People should not bad mouth pork from dusk until dawn.
Pigs and people who hate them can get into fights.
I make sure things get settled and stay nicely dressed.

Spilt Milk

Perceived Waste Or Abundance

Things to do over Spilt Milk remain to be few.
Surely this is a good thing. There’d be many more
Reactions to make possible… most, not of worth.
Every moment conceals an abundance of mirth.
It is how I perceive things that I let life pour
Into my blessed bowl. Let it drench me anew.

Over Spilt Milk I watch from a vantage point far
Above all that is happening as it takes place.
I see also from close up, since I am right there
In the midst of the drama, not seeming to care
That somehow it affects my deserving of grace.
If I cleaned up the excess, would that be bizarre?

I jerk off over Spilt Milk. The mix is sublime.
My life is like a serial drama complete
With the fruits of my labor, in like way adorned
In a Milk of Magnificence, not to be scorned
To the point that I feel that I’ve no right to eat.
This is true now. I wish it were so all the time.

Tight Slap

How Dare You!

“What would be called a Tight Slap is one that’s not loose,”
One would say who receives one from out of the blue
On a pleasant day when everything should be fine.
If I come off in error, do give me a sign
Other than a swift zinger. I have not a clue
What I’ve done to deserve this outrageous abuse.

Often times I’m well-mannered. Sometimes I’m a slave
To the sweat beast within me. Control I have not.
Can the creature of true heart be blamed for his act?
To survive a blind gesture with eyeballs intact
Is a fool’s expectation. I don’t fret a lot.
But I do take account for the way I behave.

 You are not my own flower, nor fruit from my tree.
I don’t have my own garden. People are not plants.
Knowledge comes as a Tight Slap upside the manhood
So that it’s maintained and forever understood.
Wisdom is abundant in any circumstance.
One does not need the Tight Slap to properly see.

Friendly Therapy?

Human Conditioning

“I feel bad.”No You Don’t! You’re just making things up.
So why don’t you stop taking things seriously?”
“That is not how it is, ma’am. I’m really upset.
I’m consumed with much doubt, and I deeply regret
That I work at a nursing home. That’s wrong with me!”
“Suck it up, little soldier. You’re no buttercup.”

“Don’t you know the establishment? They make the rules!
And we are to be slave to them. They cannot change.
Why can’t you understand that? How come that you feel?
Feeling does not make sense here where we are ‘for real.’
Why don’t you listen up more? Quit acting so strange.
You are here to shut up and be one of our fools.”

“Should this come as a shock to you? Are you naïve
To gross human behavior? Now give me a break.
What you need is to be treated like you’re a child.
I know nothing about you. My mind can run wild.
And since I’m a good Christian, I’ll pray for your sake.
You don’t listen much, boy, and you do misperceive.”

“As your friend and a therapist, I can treat you
Like you never had parents, and Laugh In Your Face
While you’re pouring your guts out. What else are friends for?
Friends become human nature. That’s why there is war.”
“War can seem awfully Christian to any nutcase
So, I guess I’m not friendly. I know what to do.”

Psychic Peek At A Puter

Crack of Putin

Something like a computer, a Vladimir Puter
Assumes an identity somewhat human.
An asshole of a neural net masters the mind
In the mold of a tyrant for all humankind
Who had nearly succeeded in his master plan
To reshape the whole world to what he would prefer.

Still, a world class accomplishment to have sewn hate
Throughout many a nation, he feels not that well.
His own people are waking up from their deep sleep
In a bitter cold governance as frozen sheep.
Why does he not feel powerful? Close aids can tell
Unidentified enemies may seal his fate.

True… this Puter likes poison. It’s lethal and sure
To eliminate nuisances who misbehave.
Some soldier in the galley knows of his fine taste
And is feeding him slowly. Soon he will be waste.
What would be then most fitting to put on his grave?
“Once there lived a great Puter. Now he is manure.”

Mating Call

Audition

Would you care, my fair dumpling, to chat for a while?
That my magnetic presence is drawn close to you
Is a blessing of nature. May I look your way?
It would be so delightful and would make our day
More than it could be otherwise. My heart is true
Even though there may be something odd with my style.

If you don’t salivate ‘til the third or fourth date
I can well understand that. Fear not that I may
Become over persistent or underperformed.
I am drawn to conditions where my faith is warmed.
I believe I can win your heart with what I say.
You may find that it’s worthwhile, and that would be great.

Take a chance with me, darling. I can’t let you down.
I myself have been lower than most dudes can get.
But what keeps my heart thumping is thinking I’m cool
So much so that I’m willing to act like a fool
That I might earn the chance of becoming your pet.
In a very short while, I can invert that frown.