Not your mom’s Limerick (whimsy is for pussies)
There once was a young Jill who got jacked.
The man took her cash to get crack.
She laid there on the ground,
With arms up and face down,
It turned out; piece of mind was what she'd never get back.
Way I see it..
The world is a symphony,
It sings the tragedy,
That is dying each moment,
with each sounding key.
No conductor can simply
Instruct this discord
this Cacophony of falsity
the hum of the bored
Chaotic is the tune we hear playing out,
muffled screaming in an ambient cloud of electronics buzzing
and the splash of the loud
radioactive waste in staccato,
decrescendoing while it is found
drip-drop dripping away at our collective tomorrows.
This unmistakable sound,
gets Lost in the bellows
of the masses .
screamed in the crowds
who are marching to the beat
of their own unique drummers
whilst they play it
all out on the doldrums.
from these percussive instruments,
A loud clattering blunder. composed of a fodder, made up from the utter mundane.
monotony, formed fully
from the struggle day to day.
But The chorus refrains from any rebuttal.
uttered cries will get muted, ceased, and are muffled, then they're replaced with an echoed rest and then they’re stifled.
The duration of this attenuation maintains
till all who took note of the alarm get beguilled,
And the mind change
is as a fall of a mild silence denoting a farce of "okay".
All the while
this poisonous jingle though muted still plays.
Longevity to be the casualty of this Harmonized haze.
Fumes of all that's amiss, that’s destroyed, or in phase to collapse Toppled from all this folly.
I speak of the things we cannot take back.
We the producers who've mastered this track.
So sing your songs low
of indignant resendence.
We will squander real life
with the things that our well-meaning advancements have lended.
So note this deception and respect what we've hindered
for it is granted no more.
If this Life is a battle,
we have lost the war.
Then hear it,
in our final moments
a profound sense of cost
the last smoke clears and
the real toll is told
the weeping tunes of regret
will be sang as a whole
from the bottom of each and every poor soul,
who now knows the hard way their errors.
I pray they won't ever again place
the value of Life below gold.
but its too late now,
its getting old
and so are we.
Grow the fuck up,
I accept my responsibility.
As I Lay Me Down To Sleep
God lay my path
Lord plant my feet.
As the day I rise to meet.
Texting about Dementia with my Sister in Law
-Unfortunately ive seen dementia
-It accelerates quickly
-That’s not actually true
it’s individual to the person.
it’s based on the relationship of the Neural synapse And the structure formed by them with regard to their mapping and their over all biophysical constructs and said constructs capacity for effective functioning at dementias onset.
From the neural transit of thought to actions it’s electrical firings and the relationship between our organs and their similar firings and subconscious controls,
they are all going to do as they would until they can’t and piece by piece pass along the failure that dementia is.
It all just depends on where it starts.
Imagine the body and brain nervous and endocrine systems are the streets and traffic and the kinetic force or spark of synapse transmission is the populace commuters builders historian and so on. The electrical charges that articulate the function that forms who and what we are and do and the automated ones who like a night shift maintenance man handle everything to run the budding metropolis and maintain it without us having to think about that
If you‘re with me so far..
So if we are the city then
dementia is like Godzilla and godzilla gets in our city when our tectonic plates below the mantle crust we are built on shift and free him from the air pocket he happened to be in since the Paleocene era and be it life, time, stress, diet, or fuckery shit that we could compare to the weather aspect of climate for our bolstering civilization that did it;
however it happened
the time comes where Godzilla is out and he is comin for everything we are.
Before he eventually gets us nuked by others who want to pull the plug on the suffering and spare their own societies from having to see his rancorous lashing our city
or if before that he manages to eat every mother fucker that could be listed on our census
He no matter what cannot be capable of fangoriously devouring all of them and the land they share at one time
and maybe he is on Keto diet or has a day where he is fasting for fucking kwanza
that fast will be a day that you’ll not be unable to remember your own mother isn’t around anymore or to wipe your ass
and some faster days a group of retired vets (regressed memories) come out of hiding when he topples their skyscraper so while exterior lay we are talking to our real life surroundings
because those metiphorical vets can be seen by the light of day
in our brain city comparison suddenly our body will be shooting the shit with our real life nephew in real time
calling him the name of a favorite friend in grade school and not knowing our sibling ever reproduced to even be able to have that nephew.
When Godzilla eats the library the city will not fall like Rome but
Say Godzilla comes from the sea and enters by way of the damned server center for the fucking data net of all of the public transit stations in every district
and then he steps on Dave the night maintenance worker who leads them all for the whole city
while tripping over the source power cable from our core hydro electric what have you?
Dave’s gone and our maintnence team is hired as independent contractors for tax purposes but the jokes on us cause if Dave doesn’t work ain’t nobody maintaining our shit behind the scenes
And we are literally powerless to stop it cause of the hydro electric disconnect
school would have to be out and if school in this instance is our liver then all the children who make up our vital fluid mass and cornerstone component to our rendering our city toxin free won’t get the education cleanse they need to send them out into our big world and to get the jobs or transport nutrients or oxygen or what not to keep our city centers running in the future.
And the city would be doomed without capable growing adults to take after their parents and we die of sepsis before Godzilla could eat our libraries or get those damn millineal ass kids off mamas couch because they don’t have their diplomas and won’t work a drive through. Couldn’t without electricity anywAy.
That’s when you go fast.
Let’s just say if I ever get dementia I hope I’m not the cities in the left behind books where everyone disappears and it takes like a 13book series for Armageddon to be done
I’ll happily take the Hiroshima Nagasaki ticket to hell. It is much better, like mega bus is better than greyhound cause it would not have any layover and there is far less suffering for everyone involved.
Not that I’d want that for my dad either. I’m selfish and don’t want him to go cause I love him. I just wish it could not have started in the first place.
As many drafts as necessary?
The number needed unknown to those who pursue [but don’t] count it.
what amount will you give to this? This tinging pit of inspiration spit from the ethereal-wells of our planets minstrels who sing a song on their black and white stages
when they put pens to pages.
To scribe their minuscule sayings and to then submit them for scrutinizes sake.
How much can I give and what do I create?
does our works
shine Machiavellian? Are our points that we reach the worth of our speech or as we read, is it each moment we gain from?
could it be every single jagged edged rocky pronoun pitching aliterative echoes within us in the Chasm of our inner consciousness heralding light to the gracious nature from our most inner fissure
and bathing life in a feeling like we mean something.
that budding of hope
the concept of home
the self loving alone
is this the most basic form of satisfaction?
our writers voice factions coming back from the front lines
and though outmaanned this communication battle still wages
and demands this:
it will take as many drafts as necessary
drafting down literary free flows
at ease soldiers
Lex Talionis of the Dishonest Speculum
I’m broken cause she is clumsy
but at least it’s a mere crack,
A sliver through my silver,
on up through my glass,
from my back.
I count myself lucky.
As I’ve heard the tales
that others reflected to me of
that day infamy claimed.
They detailed the vicious attack
on my brethren that this Deranged woman made.
The act was plainly avoidable,
by far in retrospect.
The attack she enacted that day
when she hacked them apart;
a whole stack of looking glasses!
Her creative juices
caught a knack for
splashy, psuedo-creative nuances
in her rooms scenery.
She chose a shattering
of many mirrors,
of my family;
by way of canned fruit salad and leaning a stack of them at a slant;
She threw the snack.
Picked it up, just to repeat it then,
She came galumphing back to [Whack!] do it again.
Then she glued up their pieces
Pieces of my friends
The crazy bitch crazy-glued
my fucking cousins to
the interior walls of her book case.
What I call murder
doesn’t offend her.
She thinks of it as good taste!
At the very least,
As an artsy fartsy display.
The shards of my camaraderie
A damned conversation piece.
This was not clumsy..
This was done purposely;
This was genocide.
My pane in pain that I’ll hide.
Why fruit salad?
No; Why Fruit cocktail?
She brandished a canned good,
And ripped them apart
piece by piece..
I try not to reflect on it,
but I seek release.
I need it for peace of mind,
To pacify me; I’m irate.
Reckoning seems begged of me so
I’ll do it my best respectively,
To chip away at her mental state.
I hope to internally annihilate
I mean to be mean while I’m
Passive aggressively exacting
within her own image.
Ill begin, as I do my job dutifully.
As I duplicate her form,
My rancor will take shape.
It’ll be in the subtleties
I’ll be warping, rendering distorted
the visage of her body
that I devilishly duplicate.
While she’s dressing
I’ll be stressing her out.
Peering deeper into me with scrutiny, to figure now what’s
Wrong with her figure.
I in perpitude;
Will distort just a little
of her details
Make her fiddle as I
bulge out her belly.
Ill shrewdly double her chin.
Brake my back to bend out
Her back fat,
Undetectably I can thin
her hair to threadbare.
She will feel it then;
My wrath for what she’s done.
The day will come that
I’ll shatter her from within.
She will crack if I refract her before she will ever again
feel joy in her fitting, and
I wittingly will turn against her
as far as she can see.
She will splinter when
left up to me, she’ll swear that in the store things had fit her.
Gaslighting is my delight and
every new dress I’ve guaranteed
Will make her look fat,
As for me,
This is not destiny cause
I’ve chosen this path,
But I deem that it seems to be
The right track.
in fact it is
The fairest of them all
for I’ve no arms to fight back
And I’m stuck on this wall.
Head bowed; I ask my lord aloud:
Take me, Teach me, Guide me in your ways.
Protect and correct me through all of my days
Your grand living rhythm, I am the choir; so teach me to sing the notes you inspire!
This is the beginning of my prayer I wrote for just such a purpose and I recite it to myself when I feel fear or uncertainty, or share it with people I think it may benefit at the time.
flame-re·tar·dant | \ ˈflām-ri-ˌtär-dᵊnt
1. Too dumb to catch fire.
2. One whose thick skull is quantifiably too dense to allow enough oxygen within it conceptually, therefore rendering impossible the occurrence or actuation of combustion (metaphorically).
3. See also 'Dumb AF'*
*Dumb "As Fuck"
Slutty Steel Steam St☆rs
Smile of steel
And the steam clears
Dawn's goodbye to the stars means the day is near.
Too late for virtue and
Onto the next thing coming
Am I being clear?
Smile of steel
Steal your heart
And the steam clears
I've dissapeared at the station
A train's drawing near
Yes of course I'll call you baby
Only Just one thing dear,
I didn't get your number
But I was sincere
You'd never know it though
my steel smile and I seem weird
It seems the stars alignment wasn't ours
you'll never see me not alone
More shallow than the gutter
Less than even friends
A lie we both complied with
And I won't extend
Our fantasy of intimacy
Just means to an end
And as the steam clears
Dawn's goodbye to the stars says the night ends
And we will
Never see one another.
Longest Alliteration Wins
Sitting sighing sifting
Searching syllabic cells.
Stepping softly straight
Spanning cerebral supply spells.
Short sentence snippets set
Standards sinking slow
Surely sights set soon see
Strategic steps supposed?
Something should stick
Surely some subject should
So I sat stewing
Seeking speaking strange sticattoed spouts, such sentences starring solely S-words surreptitiously strungout.
Seems silly somehow,
Centered singularly siting
Since sole sights S's