Analogous to fire breathing

puffed up imaginary dragon

(in a land called Honah Lee)

ye might rightly think

what the deuce

haunting spectre ace of spades

good fella aiming to be a poet all about,

meaning sexagenarian wordsmith,

this once upon a time jackanapes

presently decked out like cadaverous card

still sporting fine kingly raiment

and crown of thorns atop noggin

impossible mission

to disguise rapscallion mien,

nevertheless mine true harmless colors

glowingly dim meant shunned

buzzfeeding demonic, horrific

malefic tightly coiled asp

symbiotically fostering mein kampf

thru poisonous white fangs,

I strive and stride rite

to live life like good humor man,

until grim reaper

rocked my boat whose death on par

for an impractical joker,

after rigor mortis seized body electric,

hence burial at sea where mates

honored wish of mine on the briny deep

shipped overboard in a casket wrought of oak,

where (yes) grateful dead foo fighter

hoisted into Davy Jones' locker

after one last exhilarating heavenly toke

from potent Cannabis

and draught of stout ale

finally freed me from ills

of a morose lactose intolerant

impotent existence that did yoke

body and mind and set spirit soaring

like aircraft christened

Saint Louis mine being

riddled with angst.

When alive with the sound of music

and robust health

smitten with searing infatuation

to sow seeds of life and white lily

during jump/kick starting manhood,

when hormonal secretions

found me being

naughty bit player for prime time

innocent untainted puppy love

concerning fecund (she),

the unbeknownst petty heartbreaker

with whom I fancied

and fantasized to pledge my troth

which hand of distressed damsel

never tested to fit mine like a glove,

nor sanctified debauched soul asylum demise

and death be not proud courtesy

Spiritus Mundi above.

Now gnarled arthritic fingers

and bowed back

these lovely bones severely jangled,

when cough that doth wrack

accompanied by thick choking phlegm

gagging yours truly

while lying supine on me deathbed

disrupted with torturous hack

panting like an overworked dog

even after the leash goes slack.

Every end of year

when auld lang syne sung

weather beaten formerly

well muscled skiff wrung

after being subjected

to whims of mother nature

cannibalistic headhunters

interestingly enough poked and prodded

buzzfeeeding me rawbits

eroded taste buds populating tongue

recorded global cuisine

avast webbed wide world

across all four directions of compass

found globetrotter huzzaing

experiencing evanescent,

concupiscent and acquiescent

aborigines far flung,

where couple females in particular

among the madding crowd

of barenaked ladies struck my fancy

amusing themselves with innocent

coy non verbal repartee,

where one in particular approached

with outstretched legions

of extensive alms,

where colorful amulets sported

to stave off superstitious

shrunken skull and crossbones

dangled and clung.

While rummaging, mining,

and distilling me gray matter,

stoking mentality activates

oft time surprising me,

where unexpected novel

cognizance never abates,

I experienced becoming

linkedin with cosmic fates,

sans collective unconscious

soul asylum of the universe,

and chanced to espy,

(albeit only a trimmed

infinitesimal microscopic speck),

the spirit of William Butler Yeats

considered one of the foremost figures

of 20th-century literature,

where elan suddenly accelerates

though immediately abruptly stops

dead still in figurative tracks

utter disbelief accompanied

by shell shocked shyness accentuates

to remain stock still

suddenly feeling inadequate, inferior,

insignificant, immovable, immutable...

self doubt actuates

internal tussle, while

wise counsel within adjudicates

unable to convincingly

brush off devil's advocates,

which in no way, shape or form

successfully bolsters cockamamie idea,

floats and navigates fan to see, alternates

with bold prospect an emotional

paralysis immediately aggravates

anxiety as cowardice accumulates,

nonetheless pesky needling aggregates

maximizing far fetched optical illusion,

despite what must be hallucination,

this laughable wordsmith appreciates,

though many wildest dreams of mine defy

explanation, a feeble attempt articulates,

how dreamlike hypnotic stance captivates,

thru cosmic haze

quantum matter assimilates

aura, charisma, enigma

rippling ethereal turin shroud

sensing, nursing, imbibing...

indecisiveness capitulates

wavering seduced mooring

temptation assertively celebrates

nonpareil genius among pantheon,

whose Eire rush grandeur circulates

thru time and space infiltrates

stimulating within mine off kilter crown,

where reverence circulates,

for long deceased Irish poet laureate,

his unseen presence amalgamates

vibrant tendrils of late

August author's grandeur effectively percolates

within and illuminates me with inspiration.

(Me slippery fingers slither,

slip and slide splashing ala

Jackson Pollock), sans slap

dash experimental, swiftly

tailored and harried writing

style, yes on par with purging,

spewing, venting...unexpurgated,

unexpressed, unexplained...

words, which this Engelbert

Humperdinck singer/songwriter,

(whose name inexplicably popped

into the mind of this Dadaist)

offers "FAKE" apology for any

self inflicted, or sadomasochistic

flagellated cranial contusions

out of utter futility to make sense

regarding following gobbledygook!

GOOD LUCK!

Mine groovy palmar flexion creases

forever moistened by porous size

damn leaking levees provoking deluge

outranking Biblical flood - handy history

(in miniature) replete with Ark keel

logical artifacts discovered by hall n

oats marked wainwright - about 10 stone and

5 pound huckster, circa Fin de siècle,

when callous ten hooks (calisthenics,

eh) caught without Noah shadow of a

doubt proof positive by Matthew Scott,

(amat sure his surname) linkedin to storied

testament rivalling epic of Gilgamesh,

nee the entire spoilers alerts since

dawn of civilization writ small impossible

mission to decipher indelibly etched,

(what appear as Egyptian hieroglyphics),

methinks his perspiration contains

preservative agent, (a natural formaldehyde

like substance) generated nsync to maintain

eternal youthfulness, which stumps

medical community, and earned him

hashtagged "hotmail" (eagerly sought

after human commodity), a blessing

and curse palms plagued with chronic

wetness, yet lines (little flushed streams

of consciousness) rowed by itty bitty

teensy weensy merry daydreamers harkens

back when life held faint promise for

scattered (contra) bands of bipedal

hominids fiercely competing with trumpeting

(Taj Mahal sized) beasts (donned tousled

windswept hirsute trademark) Euclid

heir'm barreling along barren steppes

all around the one straggly mulberry bush,

where one pensive monkey (protohuman)

chased the weasel all around the world wide web.

alternately titled: a literary retrospective when holiday times living hand to mouth in Penn Valley fraught with slim pickings and yours truly felt utterly miserable that nary a delivery from Santa Claus would be forthcoming.

Totally tubular nonfiction yup,

nevertheless I reflect

the year (arbitrarily plucked from misty past)

Santa Claus did not show up

courtesy imagination license

cruel as crippled poet panhandler

a cowboy wannabe holding on for dear life

with both feet held fast courtesy stirrup

tempted to storm of into the sunset

if misery did erupt

rattling his empty cup.

Though blink of time passed rather quick,

I still vividly recollect

midnight passed upon Christmas Eve

(circa December 24th, 2005)

with nary a ho ho ho from jolly Saint Nick,

nor sound of sleigh bells

no reindeer with packages he did not heave

omitting hurling gifts at 1148 Greentree Lane

as some cruel and nasty trick,

which prompted both progent

particularly youngest daughter did grieve

great disappointment absent merriment,

and surprises he would ordinarily flick,

whereby mystical magical tour would

burst with brilliance

like Jack Nimble's candlestick

spurred affirmation

analogous to brick

slamming into me noggin

in his presence to believe.

Rudolph, Dasher, Dancer, Prancer,

Vixen, Comet, Cupid and Blitzen

ordinarily light up anticipation,

instigating ear to ear grin

(especially provoking clattering hooves)

courtesy, exponentially, and factorially

heightened expectation generated,

viz foray into dark night sky

becoming brightest visible object

creating an audible, yet pleasant din

gracefully amazing this hypothetical papa,

would ordinarily deliver merriment well nigh

accept he forgot one important stop

perhaps trouble with cloven hoofed creatures

hmm... maybe lack of of feedstock

found precious priceless lass

with downcast chin,

and teardrops falling

heavily from each eye

inducing sharp pains

within this then mister meister mom

once a year self anointed secret santa

analogous feeling skin

pierced with sharp pin

most times one generally

happy go lucky guy,

whose heavy sinking heart

professing love (mine) could not win

reverberated hollow grief

as if Cupid's paramour made of tin.

I tried with futility to assuage melancholy

when Shayna Punim

(Yiddish פּנים ponem, from Hebrew פָּנִים panim)

(endearment for pretty face),

she did melancholically ask why

her mood cast dark shadows

across edge of night

illuminating the outer limits

of the twilight zone

(evoking artificial intelligent

graphic generated augmented

computer special effect)

as webbed, wide world

within outer limits of twilight zone did spin

along axis in gulf of infinite space

with lighting speed, he would punctually fly

no explanation suitable i.e.

from Kris Kringle pinch hitter

(alias yours truly),

since no where seen heft sack

of goodies makes supreme father pitiful sight

off his pedestal like

force of gravity impossible to defy

Humpty Dumpty myth I did belie.

I started mulling and typing my thoughts

at nearly 14:30 hours in military time

on December sixteenth two thousand and twenty four.

Incomplete tumultuous prepubescence,

youth, and emerging adulthood...

truncated self development plus simultaneously

compromised loving relationships

insync with filial bonds

between writer of these words,

(whose first two decades of mein kampf)

strewn with figurative wreckage

of emotional, mental,

physical and spiritual dissociation,

whereat yours truly (me)

figuratively severed being linkedin

with those whose

potential omnipotent bonds sundered

at the expense

of cultivating healthy family rapport.

I resumed later December sixteenth

two thousand and twenty four

at 22:00 hours military time.

Upon reflecting after

watching the Coldplay Youtube

with Dick Van Dyke celebrating his 99th birthday,

I marvel at self evident L'chaim, joie de vivre,

exubérant esprit de corps, et cetera

of the ninety nine year old birthday boy - ha,

who appears alive with full faculties intact

becoming a legendary

charismatic, and dramatic personality,

he conveys contagious

and prestigious qualities

exemplifying an ideal human being.

A centenarian after completing one more orbit

around the sun,

said icon of moving picture domain

an all around genuine loveable person,

whose kismet provided, enabled and allowed

generations to escape

away from madding crowd

courtesy going to the movies

to see childhood delights

popular roles he starred

in such as Mary Poppins

and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

the early to late ninety sixties

yours truly (me)

naive about the world at large and endowed

videre licet bestowed

by creator with life, liberty

and pursuit of happiness.

Ofttimes, I try in vain to recaptcha

the child within these lovely bones

vaguely remembering a happy go lucky lad

whose attachment to mama's apron strings

never found me to act precocious,

and preference toward maternal dotage

displayed outright obvious repulsion,

when dad attempted to interact

with his sole son

similar to behavioral quirk

displayed by Shana,

when she retracted away from the missus

during much of her impressionable years

spent living in an abominable and squalid dwelling

made more horrid by neither your brother,

neither her father nor mother

being gainfully employed,

nor maintaining respectable domicile.

The indelible impact

upon both daughters longly fostered

did not prosper successfully,

what with wretched parental guidance,

and absence of necessary positive role models

incorporated toxic environment

devoid of healthy development,

where formative years of offspring

experienced horrible mental,

physical and spiritual homelife

wrought permanent havoc

writ large upon their psyche

and plaguing them with psychological ills.

As the world turns

on all my (two) children

the bold and the beautiful

young and the restless lasses,

now grown into young women

still haunted by dark shadows

analogous to an omnipresent edge of night

obscuring guiding light

courtesy pockmarked psyche of mine

who, when a troubled tweener

entertained fantasies about another life to lead.

He (me) frequently envisioned

being somebody else

usually a sizable bigger kid

versus evincing a puny introverted youngster,

who withdrew inside himself

and spent an inordinate amount of time

within four walls of bedroom

afraid of growing up into a responsible adult.

While out Christmas shopping at Mall Of America with Our Spanky Gang of Little Rascals, who should we bump into but, Scrooge, Fezziwig, Fred, Bob Cratchit, Mrs. Cratchit,Tiny Tim, Jacob Marley main fictitious characters drawn upon under belly, of real life mid eighteen hundreds lowliest British (thermal unit) poverty stricken caste. Das scribe sketched out their soul full collective misfortune, without virtue, but plenti via a vice, which storied lives depicted (i.e. being penniless, dime a dozen, a day late, and dollar short penury) courtesy, sans prolific imagination of Charles Dickens “ Christmas Story”. They unexpectedly, uninhibitedly and unwittingly broke the binding loose after being bound within whirled wide web of make believe close to two hundred years. Freed from the paginated constraints (analogous to a prisoner, who broke free after long confinement to solitary confinement, when initially handed down life sentence for terroristic sabotage resulting in deaths per scores of innocent people), an utter lack of social graces immediately, plainly, and shockingly exhibited by various aggressive behavior. Crowd (then ground) control to Major Tom couched via heavy duty security details appeared helpless. The muddling, middling, maddening motley crue swarmed, rampaged, and quashed an attempt by the Police (who crafted a spurious Sting operation predicated on the baddest Beastie Boys Culture Club, who excelled at being Foo Fighters), which immediately appeared ineffective against a handful of raggedy, pesky, and nasty Marxist/Leninst lumpenproletariats. Helter skelter, mayhem and bedlam found these hoodlums, hooligans, hooting imps a indistinct English dialect. Even Tiny Tim showed braggadocio defying his lame physical state. Scrooge attested to be in seventh heaven, or the closest he would get. Despite total ignorance apportioned these anachronistic figments gross, heedless, insubordinate jubilant kooky lust (made manifest marrying narcissism ogling pricey quirky random tchotchkes. Any civility escaped filthy hands hoisting incredibly jealous mannikins. Sir real quite peculiar phenomena overtook natural mundane lives. The growing horde of astonished onlookers (under a sheltering sky) made haste unsure if the ghost of Marley will scare away oblivious buyers (eyeing various and sundry widgets, trinkets, thingamabobs, knickknacks gimcracks, gewgaws, fribbery, bibelots baubles) where (timid) Tiny Tim (who tip toed thru the Tulips) frightened aggressive, purveyors of said merchandise. Insult against ideology, modernity, reality took a giant leap, who of all people, but The Merchant of Venice made a cameo appearance issuing forth asper a tempest in a teapot, a dome mass scandal, and danced the night away with the Ghost of Christmas Past, where the hallowed purposelessness purchasing presents per perps, squirts, twerps, et cetera essentially the intended thread to weave warped wonderment of mine, but (dippity) doo to a very bad hair day, my ability to communicate in a clear concise manner compromised sprung extremely flat limp follicles that usually puff up on the head (as big as a Soundcloud) of this GoDaddy, who will help fend off feisty Goo Goo Dolls.

Whether a totally

tubular ordinary day, or...hmm...

perhaps at the

approach of yuletide,

one need not go

far and wide

across the webbed world

to experience being unified,

this quasi motto maxim of sorts

analogous to auld

sanity clause trailguide

motivates me to

seek if necessary

all the way to Telluride

to attempt Swiss-side

enlightenment with every stride,

thus please feel free

and clear to chat streamside

ideally at springtide,

yea your welcome, yes do

respond to this snide

loner if game to chess das side

to accompany this gadabout

(once pawn a time) rook

key nada so longfellow

wordsworth king rustler,

yup, who still attests

to occupy ringside

available vacancy for queenside

guest of honor, (gnome hatter

if ye happen tubby pride

full favoring an effeminate

poetic guy), also...provide

ding no aversion toward

this moon face planetwide,

Martian hood doth bleach blonde

his hair with peroxide,

this lapsed lose zoo lee

errant knight well,

that could pose a minor

drag) hubble restraint,

I would override,

but actually this ring

around the collar, (sans whiskey

perspiration at noontide),

drunkard, (that's when

my late morning gets broken)

yea...way offset from nationwide

conformity, nonetheless huff

fain tuff fellowship with me,

a chap who doth not arise

before the crack of noon

lest inside his noggin

oozes like a mudslide,

(which on May 31, 1889

washed away Johnstown, Pennsylvania),

the damn burst (like

a Led Zeppelin exploding),

and roared down the mountainside

triggered (human sited) landslide

decimating, leveling, and uprooting,

every friggin gabled

house along hillside,

which essentially created massive graveside.

(boot exhausted tending Milan Collie)

If only father time could... but

yea right Matthew Scott cut

your losses, accompanied

with sinking feeling in gut

ready to vent off steam

start fire next time and burn

(billy me I merrily Joel King),

down house i.e. mancave hut...,

in tot, while yours truly emulates

one among many talking heads

with tongue doth jut

out mouth making nasty facial feature

at reflection nut

tin much else

except, perhaps try to put

gear into overdrive any

remembered magmatic

lava lee fragments

to pull this mad man

out of figurative rut

nothing gainsaid verbally taunting self

with expletive epithet

more colorful than tut...tut... tut.

Chalk permanent heart wrenching

pinteresting kindling horrifying

devastating loss regarding

opus magnus extremely cross

at yours truly, nope no ace

in the hole, hence best bet to

down bottle of tranquilizers

with swig flask of booze to brace

transcending after life netherland,

where angels plucking harps

magically can exorcise

Manhattan goose stepping

quite pheasant hunched mountebank

Norte worthy dame

giving bankable chase

courtesy cloistered chaste

siren of Titan (on the

order of Mrs. Doubtfire)

hoop fully abducts me than

willingly, meticulously,

and compliantly doth erase

every vestige of writings.

Thoroughly cooked duck, dogged

dully dilly dallying gent

realized errors of

his ways, where bent

crooked right hand pinky the chief

hankering provocateur leant

admission (for one adult) cogent

tam o shanter donning Brit with scent

tum mental affectation unable to console

yours truly, whose feeble

effort non poetic event

merely hoped to muster

even lame to assuage

smoldering ire, wherever

sense and sensibility

plus pride and prejudice went.

After a hiatus of countless years

plus an additional

almost three months

since a major makeover,

(I experienced the magic

wrought courtesy

a bonafide big hearted

beautician at Salon Nova

located in beautiful

downtown Limerick, Pennsylvania

to render my straggly long hair

cut about twelve inches shorter),

whereby a mensch looked back at me,

a gorgeous reflection mirror reflection

yours truly returned to the mecca

Thomas Paine would feel right at home,

and surprisingly enough

a small number of attendees

at said name sake Unitarian Fellowship

nevertheless recognized me,

(and remembered my late mother

Harriet Harris,who passed away

twenty years ago come May 5th, 2025)

ushering yours truly courtesy older,

yet nevertheless familiar faces

while jesters tumbled and unrolled figurative

Scottish Tartan welcome mat

and provided a warm welcome.

As a small boy

parents of ours

(mine two siblings

included then and now,

an older and younger sister)

attended the Main Line Unitarian Church,

(a general hunch we regularly

made our appearance

at aforementioned site

during late 1960's early 1970's)

816 S Valley Forge Road, Devon, PA 19333,

when the then minister Mason McGinnis

facilitated the program.

Skads of decades,

née scores of years elapsed

since boyhood found me heading

(more accurately prodded),

thence shuttled to age appropriate classroom,

albeit informally structured learning environment.

Chronologically doddering oldest people

(such as fathers, mothers,

gray haired grandparents...)

plus young adults

bid their charges goodbye, albeit temporarily

as their younger kin got gently routed

to one out of quite numerous

ample size preschool/nursery room.

Infants, babies, young kids

i.e. most easily antsy, distracted, oblivious,

when days of our live young and restless

(unbeknownst to those recipients)

got their inchoate intellect sparked.

Their coerced, coddled (molly),

and coaxed... reluctance rewarded

(aside from with sweet treat)

courtesy lofty, mighty, nifty...

young rabbit ears raptly attuned

(most like a couple seconds maximum at most)

feigning listening at (iterated above)

Minister Mason McGinnis

who always gave rousing sermon.

If not him, perhaps a previously

scheduled guest speaker

enlightened, enhanced, enchanted... audience.

Nonetheless upon attaining mine prepubescence,

or thereabouts, (and most definitely

when yours truly crossed his horrendous,

perilous tumultuous wretched pubescent Rubicon

marking naturally ordained metamorphosis),

they abruptly ceased mandating

what both parents considered

(as well this middle aged son

recognized in retrospect –

cuz hindsight of mine always 20/20),

a golden opportunity to mingle,

and perhaps even (horrific as this reads)

befriend shy lads similar to yours truly.

I felt quite at home being attended, pacified,

pampered, and pulled up by bootstraps.

Without warning this baby boomer

invariably, suddenly felt shell shocked

and zapped courtesy post traumatic stress disorder

incurred while in utero.

Suddenly out of the blue,

paralyzing horror found this AARP eligible cardholder

aghast with fright as if scary

boogie woogie bugle boy monster mash

(with cooties) prowled premises on the lurch

to spring summat ploy.

Nightmarish visitations

while finding my religion

(crept along the edge of night

regarding dark shadows

from outer limits of twilight zone)

extolling virtues regarding return of native son

also witnessed me

being precariously hoisted,

and (analogous to dangling modifier)

suspended me in mid air by my own petard.

Basking in a supine position

with eyes wide shut

while the space heater churns out

fast moving molecules of heat

solitudinarian drowsy thinker fêted

by miniature fantasy

of tropical island paradise

accompanying and populating slumber

courtesy flickering, mesmerizing,

undulating barenaked native nymphs

tricked out as miniscule floaters

drifting across field of vision

striking atavistic memories,

where yours truly revels

within toasty warm bedroom

succumbing into deep sleep

resurrecting dormant primal hallucinations

redolent of Neanderthal forebears,

who huddled around the hearth

lo and behold discovery

evident after eldest sister of Harris tribe,

videre licet raw bits of genetic material

submitted saliva specimen

to 23andMe

since shut down by the FDA

because of the said

company's aggressive marketing

and refusal to resolve

outstanding data issues.

Impossible mission to stay awake

and fend off feeling sleepy

analogous to being drugged

not even long enough

to attend a yawning festival,

thus once upon a time

approximately half life

of Matthew Harris ago

indefatigable body of mine

weathered blistering fatigue

with endurance to dance the night away,

where lively contra dance music

played onstage and participants

tirelessly whooped up with energetic glee

experienced the equivalent headiness

linkedin with physical intercourse.

Now as a sexagenarian to boot,

who recently underwent a makeover

former trademark characteristic

of baby boomer no longer sports

talking head being hirsute

subsequently analogous to Samson

powerfulness of body,

no greater than a newt

while I lay me down to sleep

cerebral cogs and wheels troubleshoot

envisioning yours truly (me)

reincarnated donning myself

wearing a broad-shouldered drape jacket,

balloon-leg trousers,

and, sometimes, a flamboyant hat

decked out sporting,

what came to be recognized as zoot suit

generally worn by the following:

white Americans, police officers,

and U.S. Soldiers, the suits

became a symbol of excess,

anti-patriotism, and

anti-American sentiment,

as well as gang affiliation.

I get tired of being tired

hence ask the missus to make high test coffee,

which jolt of caffeine finds me wired

but back in the day

I acquired a gold card

patronizing General Nutrition Center

and bought one product in particular,

which affected me with outcome I desired.

And thus I crafted sub verse,

whereby yours truly conceives

poem titled Guarana Mo by Jeeves.

Most of the following (fictitious)

quintessential balderdash

ranks as sorry excuse for originality, writ

nevertheless mishmash qualifies

according to humble opinion of mine

reasonable rhyme for mediocrity,

benignly, essentially, and honestly to wit

to test skill at heart felt fabrication like me,

thus exempting bing considered, judged,

and labeled tubby unfit

wall henna burst of

playful tulles toy warren peace,

bawling contrived sketched

piddling potchking pusillanimous

Monty Python's Flying Circus twit,

this once upon a time pablum child,

aye practically spit

out (from inxs of carrot juice),

now dost daringly be hove

brave reeder to comprehend

as great literary endeavor

by this hare reed rabbit,

head, (non adult tryst) pit,

nor posthumous fame, worm ma obit

chew wary verbosely probably re:nouns,

abominable attempt as Unitarian

worthy reading material

so great English lit,

and moost unlikely tuff hind,

nor e'en garner this hare reed

ole Union Jack of a one hit

wonder poetic laureate,

nonetheless this (o'

waa hare did me bunny go),

perhaps to Britain endeavoring merely

to join United Kingdom.

Now let yours truly whoop

focus to address main intent,

(sans for quick pick me up)

and nary drop of coffee,

nope not even one molecule

to fill thimbleful sized cup

I reach for bottle of Guarana,

(one serving of

coffee per capsule)

fo' this aging pup,

who attests that caffeine

(liquid and/or

encapsulated), the sole vice

(except for barbiturates, cocaine,

"FAKE" opioid, et cetera),

which overdose nearly found me

nearly a grateful dead – thrice

occasions, where circumstances

of mouse self

(Stuart Little reincarnate -

with an insatiable craving for cheese

laced with Guarana, Paullinia cupana,

a climbing plant in the maple family),

which bean sized seeds

affordable at an acceptable price

many times larger than puffed rice.