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I was young
and you were old
you were shy
And I was bold

I stared at you
you smiled twice
I made my bet
you rolled the dice

I came to you
you felt my smell
I stole a kiss
You fell under my spell

I was a brat
You had no aim
I was an ace
You had no game

I had fun
You had too
I'm leaving soon
You're feeling blue

And so it ends
what never started
in the game of love
you've been out smarted
I've been drawing
A blank
Dwelling in this
So called
Conundrum

Only giving
Half hearted gestures,
Forsaking all others

I've deliberately
Out smarted
All the details
Lost in time

Jittery
On every
Steamy day

The remedy
Never lies
In the score book,
Or with
Criminal instincts,
Not even
The crooked
Cab drivers

So I'll wander
In these
Unvarnished
Chocolate covered
Nightmares

I'll hide
Under the
Stairs
Where spiritualistic,
Speakeasy
Behavior
Only leaves
You
Killed or injured

A whirl
Of such discovery
And you
Will finally
See

It's mostly people
Who cause
This kind of
Unease
Elusive for a reason
Haven Collie Oct 2015
with tobacco sitting open
in dusty papers on our kitchen table,
still warm from the glow
on your mint and cedar skin,
and with the sky cloudy and quiet in our window,
you kissed my crooked mouth
like the ghost hand that held the door open for you.

Heartache is an actor,
mumbling his soliloquy on the wide empty stage of my tongue
while the people in the back complain that they can't hear.
when people speak of a love not returned,
if you're lucky,
you can still hear a thin warm ribbon of blood
wrapping around teeth,
almost undetectable,
and the name hangs heavy in the room
like silver tinsel after christmas
if the  still oozes hot, black heartache
or else it is a wound that has scabbed over.
the lover is left lying like
a ribbed dog on a dry path,
summer's dust coating organs and throats
purple and bruised,
church bells ringing through tall grass.

but you heard every word that Heartache was saying.
you smarted away from me,
as if I had bitten you.
I think maybe
you could taste all of this war
waging among the rafters
in the high ceilings of my mouth.
and all I could taste was copper pennies
for months after you left.
Redshift May 2013
i have managed to evolve just enough
that i am no longer bothered by you.
i have someone i can fake text
a badly designed little game
meant for six year olds
that i can play
or i can
scroll
scroll
scroll
and pretend that so many other two demensional people
want to get ahold of me
i can do all this
in the most superior manner
and never even look at you
because you are three dimensional
and you are too hard to figure out,
process
analyze
you are simply
too big
for my screen...
i must wait for another upgrade
before i can open you
you are too
real
i cannot sort you out
into little
megapixels....
you will
break
me
Allen Robinson Jul 2016
As a young child I would
awaked from my mid-day nap
to the glorious smell of fresh
home-baked cookies, not the
premade out of the tube crap
... the real deal made by mom
Was I dreaming of her awesome
soft baked chocolate chips, the
classic sugar cookie or the
peanut butter thumb print
No matter... I was good with
anything produced by her hand
Sneaking down the stairs to the
kitchen I follow my nose to
discover nothing but aroma
Mixing bowls are all cleaned and
no sign of any used baking sheet
First instinct is to climb the cabinet
and search the old hiding spot
to no avail, she has out smarted
me yet again in concealing evidence
No jar is left probing by my best
Sherlock Holmes investigation
the HIDDEN COOKIE JAM will
not outwit me again and again
I will seek you until I find you
then I will lay waste to you like
Cookie Monster had his way on
Sesame Street.
Lilly Bug Feb 2011
Dear Andy, Thank you and Goodbye.

2/24/11

A deep tiresome passion has been building up inside me,
And it’s been two months and six days since I last saw you.
At the beach is where I’ll find you and is where I soon will be.
We’ll see each other and I’ll recover because you’ll be next to me.

Soft and smooth are your curly brown locks,
And sweet and luscious are your round small lips.
The scent of you with all your letters in my little green box,
Now I see your green eyes and feel your warm finger tips.

Slow and seductive are the long whispers I keep,
And it’s your voice I hear daily with little hope.
In my dreams is where I’ll find you as I fall into sleep,
And in the sunset we do paddle in the swan love boat.

2/27/11

The sand is in between the keyboard keys and caked onto my knees,
With a glass of wine at ten thirty in the morning I sit only broken hearted
A night together on the beach I had planned for two months, but you lied to me
All a lie, you scammed me how could I have been out smarted.

Lying together all day, and drinking late into night,
Only to crawl to the twin bed in the early hours of the morning.
You’d caress me as I sleep and hold me until awoken by sunlight.
Soon you must leave to go home, but I will visit soon and bring you loving.

Two months have passed and most days we’ve spoken,
But it seems now another girl found her way into the picture.
Without a word you have lured me here only to leave me broken.
You praise her and I watch just like a permanent wall fixture.

Thanks for the lies, and all the wasted time.
This is the end of the all the extra feelings.
My life is taking a rapid U-turn without you in line.
Please enjoy her company while I stand here dying.  

Sincerely,

Sofi Lilly
Jeanelle Averett Feb 2016
In Mrs. Schmutz’s first grade class
In nineteen sixty-two
I took a babe for show and tell
DelRae, that babe was you!

I held you up for all to see
Then passed you down the aisle
The little girls all ooh-ed and ah-ed
To see your toothless smile

The little boys were less impressed
Until you passed some gas
Then thought you were the coolest kid
In Mrs. Schmutz’s class!

You seemed to like the accolades
And shot a little spray
Mi amigos that ain’t nada
Is what you seemed to say!

The teacher ran to wipe it up
All frantic and befuddled
Then slipped and fell right in that spot
Where you, DelRae, had puddled!

The girls giggled girlishly
The boys let out a roar
The principal came striding in
Take that and raise you four!

You burped a *** of curdled milk
Torpedoed in his eye
I don’t recall another time
I’ve seen a grown man cry!

He banned you from that first grade class
I guess his pride was smarted
‘Cuz you were kicked out of that school
And hadn’t even started!

Some fifty years have come and gone
Since all that stuff you did
So Happy Birthday, DelRae Scott!
You’re still the coolest kid!
Pearson Bolt May 2019
the first time i choked on tear-gas,
we were standing in the heart of the Empire.
the scent of capsaicin still smarted
as we fished our medic bags for water-bottles
to flush our comrades’ eyes. we did not weep
for the revolt. we were at peace even as we knew,
beyond a shadow of a doubt,
we were ******.

the black bloc, three thousand strong,
had raged through the streets of D.C.
overturning dumpsters, torching limos,
taking hammers and crowbars
to Bank of America windows
with gleeful abandon, a sense of endless,
militant joy. it would be
anarchy or annihilation.

the spontaneous insurrection
of the antifascist demonstration
was an inferno hotter than the dumpster-fires
we’d left like signal-flares in our wake.
for a moment, there, we could feel
the ******* quaking as our feet
shook the Earth, stepping
in-and-out of Lovecraftian shadows,
eldritch horrors of doom gloating over us.

but we’d been kettled,
cordoned by cops in riot gear,
cut-off from all possible routes of escape.
faceless phantoms clutching cudgels
to bludgeon our conflagration
into submission. and then
the call came. “this way! this way!
we found an exit!”

immediately, the cops swarmed in,
their momentarily vindictive arrogance
shattered by the freedom that rang
like church-bells in a half-a-hundred voices.
“this way! this way! we found an exit!”
motorcycles turned down the alleyway,
sirens screaming, echoing off the tenement halls
and only one of us possessed the sense to intervene.

for a moment, she stood alone.
a single figure, holding up her hands
and shaking her head, refusing to let
the ******* advance. but courage
is infectious. a moment later,
another joined her, then another,
until all of a sudden a half-a-dozen
of us stood shoulder-to-shoulder, shouting,

no pasaran! you shall not pass!”
we waited for the billy-clubs to rain
hell upon our shoulders, but still
we remained steadfast, anchored
by the weight of our conviction
and the hope that even if we fell
the rest of the bloc would escape
to wreak havoc another day.
Karen Browner May 2012
OK, I was upset - he said something
that stung
it smarted
ouch.

I wanted to run
but didn't
I felt my face change
my lips purse
my demeanor stiffen
did he notice?

He'd given me an orange earlier that day
now I wanted to stomp on it
crush it...
but what did that orange do to me?

I thought of giving it away
but did not
so it sat on my desk
until Friday.

When I finally looked at his picture and said
I'm not mad at you anymore
and meant it.

Later that afternoon in my office
I heard someone speak
but I was focused on helping someone at the time.

They spoke again, I turned around
and there he was.

We talked for a little while
and briefly I wondered if he noticed
the changes in my being that day
but then I thought of it no more.

He was here, I was not mad
and I realized
when I let go of feeling hurt
let go of being mad and decided to love him anyway.

God opened a window and it was my heart.
Leo Cunio Jan 2015
What they want us to do:
Be slimmer
Be smarted
Be self-confident
Be spiritual

What they ask:
"Why aren't you eating?"
"Why are you always studying?"
"Why do you dress like a "****"?"
"Why are you always in church?"

What I say:
...

What my mind says:
"I'm trying my hardest but none of you see it. Each word you dig into me drains me each day. I know I am fat, I know I am dumb. I am trying to be like you but..
I...
just...
don't...
fit...
in...
SMILEY Jun 2015
My patience is chipping
It falls to the ground leaving marks
I can't
You've out-smarted me
Im done
You win
Good job
Im broken
And can only be put back together
With the glue of your love
EJ Lee Apr 2019
If only I knew what would have happened if I never saw him…if I never laid eyes on him. Would I be trapped here in this windowless room, where there are bars all around me? I am doomed to live the rest of my life here. Never to experience what life is like beyond the ten-foot wall that encircles this place I call hell. Then I thought it’s better than being dead. There are others who live here, but not all are here for the same reason as I am. I want to take everything back! But I can’t. It happened and I can’t take it back. Not now. Not ever.
It started out like this: It was a sunny day as I walked out of the coffee shop drinking my favorite drink, a caramel latte, I saw him. He was on the other side of the street when he caught my gaze. It seemed like time stopped, and everything was quiet. The only thing that could be heard was my heart pounding rapidly. We held each other’s gaze for thirty seconds, but it felt more like thirty minutes to me. He was first to smile and look away. He continued walking. As he walked I watched him go in the opposite direction.
When I came back to the coffee shop the next day, he was there at a table staring at me with a knowing smile like he knew I would come. This shocked me. I had no idea of what to do. Whether or not to sit at his table, say hello, or ignore him completely. What would you do?
By the time I got my drink, I made my mind up. I was going to go over just to say hi but not sit unless he insisted on it. As I made my way over, I could feel my face going hot and my legs growing weak, as I got closer. When I finally arrived, it was the first time I got a clear glimpse of him: he had broad shoulders, brownish-blackish hair, watery blue eyes, and this smile of confidence. He was the first to speak.
“Hey, I was hoping I’d be right and you’d show up…guess I was.” He gestured to the empty seat across from him, and I took it without even thinking. There was a silence, and then he broke it with asking, “So, live around here?”
Almost instinctively I responded, “Ummmm yes… I have lived here all my life. I live right outside of town.” Then I couldn’t help but ask, “Are you new here?”
“Yes, I moved here three days ago, but I have family here so it’s not big adjustment for me.” He responded without any hesitation. “You might know who they are, their names are Jill and Tony and they have their own store here in town,” he pointed towards the other side of the street. “Yeah,” he continued, “they are my Aunt and Uncle.”
I knew whom he was talking about. They owned the local bakery. “Yes, I went to school with their son, Peter, I didn’t know you were related, but now that you mention it, you do look similar.” I laughed and so did he. It was soothing to hear him laugh…as if all the awkwardness just disappeared.
After that, we just talked and talked for what seemed like mere seconds quickly turning into minutes, which then became an hour. When I looked at my watch, I realized that I going to be late. I promised my mom’s friend that I would babysit her son so they could go out. He read my face perfectly.
“Do you need to be somewhere, because by the looks of things you going to be late,” He said smoothly.
“Yes, sorry, I need to go. Sorry.” I looked up, apologizing for leaving abruptly.
I move to go but he quickly added, “before you go will you tell me something first?” with pleading eyes. I turned to him, as if that was all he needed to go on “What is your name, in case we were to meet again?”
I looked at him puzzled, almost wondering if there would be a next time. I answered almost in a sing song way with, “Faith and yours is…”
“Brad. It was nice getting to know you. I hope we can do this again sometime,” he added swiftly.
Without hesitation I responded with, “Yes, I would like that.”  And with that, I left.
In the beginning, I had this feeling of wanting to get to know him better, and to see him more. There was something about him that made me want to be around him. You are probably thinking ‘what could have possibly go wrong…he seems like a decent guy’ right? Wrong.
After running into Brad off and on for weeks on end, it almost became routine. I would see him from across the street and smile back at him when he spotted me staring. Or just say hi to one another as we walked by, but nothing to intense. I was curious about Brad. To me, Brad has this charming aspect that was different from the rest of the other guys in town.
One day, out of nowhere, Brad was at the same place where he was in the coffee shop waiting for me but with two cups on the table. He motioned me over and told me to sit. Brad pushed the cup towards me. I stared the cup debating whether or not to drink it. “What did you get me?” I asked, not trying to reject the offer.
Brad answered, “What you always get. It’s a caramel latte, right?” When he finished, he smiled like he already knew all about me. So I took a sip and it was what he said it was. I was still taken aback by how he could have possibly known that kind of information about me. But I still drank it thinking it was harmless.
We talked, but it was mainly Brad doing the talking. But when I finally was able to speak, I asked, “How did you know the kind of coffee to get?”
Brad answered staring straight into my eyes saying in a low voice, “I like knowing people that interest me before having to ask them myself. I already know a lot about you. Where you live, where you went to school, how many siblings you have, your favorite movie, what you like to eat, where you like to hang out, and where you work. And there is more for me to learn.” At the end, he smiled crookedly.  
My eyes grew wide in alarm. True, I do live in a small town. I grew up here, but I just met Brad so how could he have possibly known all about me in a short amount of time? My mind was telling me to run but my legs didn’t move. My legs felt like they were cemented to the floor. Brad kept gazing at me and I couldn’t help but return his gaze. I couldn’t look away…like I was in some trance. When my mouth and throat began to work again, I could only manage to spit out a few words, “you couldn’t…possibly know all of that…no one could know all that information…without being a…a…”
“Stalker...?” he took the word right out of my mouth. I felt disorientated. I couldn’t breathe, and my mind could not grasp this as reality. I needed to leave now! By that point my legs were working again. I began to get up and reach the front door, but Brad cut me off. He was smiling this wicked smile that I have never seen on anyone’s face before. “No one will believe you if you tell anyone, so I suggest that you don’t, and if I hear a word about this I will be forced to **** you.”
I looked up at him so frighten I could hardly speak “Why me…why do you have to target me…what have I done that made you so interested in me?”
“I feel this…connection between us that is different from all of the others?”
Others? What others? Was what Brad telling me the truth? Were there other women? If so, how many and where were they now? In a low voice that is almost a hum, he said “Don’t you feel it, Faith? It is the way you looked at me on the day where we first saw each other. That one moment is what makes me resist the temptation of just killing you now. I feel more connected with you than I did with anyone else and I want to see where it may lead. Who knows? It could be for the better.” He reached over with the back of his hand and touched my cheek. I flinched at the coldness of his hand. Without even thinking, I somehow managed to stomp my foot on his with my heel. When Brad flinched, I bolted.
Now you see what I mean when I mentioned he was not who I thought he was. Brad was after me because of the way I looked at him that one time. I admit that I too once felt this attraction between us. If I hadn’t I noticed Brad in the first place…would I be already dead? It made my head spin; the only thing keeping me alive was the fact that I notice him and had this feeling of affection. This made me sick.
Brad threatened my life and no one could save me from him, not even the police. What would you do in my situation? Run to the police…did that…tell your parents…that too…confined to your friends…tried to, it didn’t work; they all thought that I was crazy! I didn’t know what to do. I felt hopeless, not knowing how to handle this situation.  
I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, I didn’t want to leave my home for the fear Brad might be around the corner, or nearby watching my every move. I felt trapped in my own home; I kept telling myself this isn’t right. I shouldn’t feel forced to stay in my home. No one should live like this. No one deserves this.  
My boss threatened to fire me if I did not start showing up for work. I was finally forced to leave the safety of my home. I was timid to leave. I was so cautious I looked under, around, and above anything that was a possible hiding spot. When I reached my car, I hopped in and I booked it to work. What would have usually been a thirty minutes, drive turned into fifteen minutes; it is amazing what fear can do to one’s mind.
When I made it into the building my boss called me into his office. It was small with lots of files stacked high on his desk and tons of books that he might have not read. I took my seat, and waited for him to start. “Is everything ok with you?” he asked
“Why do you ask?”  I didn’t really want to tell him that I met my stalker because I didn’t trust him like that. I didn’t need my boss thinking that I was crazy; then I would really start considering entering an insane asylum.    
“Well you haven’t shown up to work for a whole week. I’m just worried, that’s all. Is there anything I should be concerned about?”  My boss looked at me, as if worried for me. He was actually concerned about my wellbeing. This was refreshing in a way. I insisted that everything was fine; I was just taking a short break from life. He took that for an answer and went on to explain why he also called me into to see him. “I have an intern for you to work with and train. He is new here and actually requested you.”
An intern…maybe this will keep my mind off reality. And he requested me made me feel wanted, in a weird way. But when the intern appeared in the doorway, it was Brad, standing there smiling at me like he just out smarted me! No, no, noooooo this can’t be right, he can’t be here, I thought. My boss was somehow oblivious to my reaction to Brad being here. He introduced us and dismissed us. After that I tried to get away from him and out of this room. But Brad kept pace with me and I could not get rid of him.
When I had enough of speed walking and making a scene at the office, I made my way to a secluded part of the office. I turned to confront him. He was closer than I thought. All he did was smile at me like he was enjoying the chase. “You’re harder to keep up with than I thought.” Then lowered his voice “I hope that you didn’t tell anyone of my little secret, because you know what will have to happen if you did. In fact, that’s why I am here: to make sure that you keep your mouth shut until I am ready to put an end to your life.” Softening his voice in an almost an affectionate way, “I don’t want to do anything prematurely now.” He looked up and saw someone coming. “Smile and say nothing,” Brad said harshly, clenching my shoulder.
I looked to see who it was; it was my friend that works right across from me, Sue. She walked past me like she didn’t suspect anything was out of the ordinary. I wanted to cry for her, to get out of here and away from here but Brad had this firm grip on me. He was hurting me just to keep me quiet. I was so scared. Once she was out of earshot, he continued, “You’re going to act like everything is normal and pretend that you have no idea who I am.” His grip became stronger until I nodded yes he then let go of me. “Good, now that we understand each other, where’s your desk so we can get to work?”
As I started to walk, there was this anger and hate towards Brad that began to grow. My fears were slowly dissolving away. On my way to my desk, he was right behind me. I was looking for something to use as a possible weapon if need be. There was nothing I could see, until I spotted it at my own desk. My scissors! That could work, but I needed to wait till Brad was in the right position for me to strike. I took them before Brad saw them…hopefully.
My mind was racing. I knew that I needed to act soon before Brad suspected anything and when I did, I better not miss or that will be the end of me. “So…” the sound of his voice startled me “this is where you work?” I nodded not trusting myself to speak. “It’ll do, where is my section?” I pointed to an empty chair towards the back, which was set up when I came in this morning. He took it and sat down then looked at me. “Well, what should I do?  You’re supposed to tell me what to do remember?”
I nodded looked around my office to see what he could do. I saw a stack of papers that needed to be organized. I grabbed them with the scissors in hand. I walked over trying to tell myself what I was about to do was the right thing and it needed to be done in order to stay alive.
I dropped the files on his makeshift desk. He looked at them. He started to leaf through them when I lifted my arm with the scissors and quickly lodge it into his neck, pulled them out, and did it again, and again.
Screaming, “Die, die, you *******! You don’t deserve to live!” when he fell to the ground I jumped on top of him and stabbed him more and more in the chest until I knew he was dead for good and there was no way of reviving him.
When I got up, I saw everyone looking at me and staring like I was insane. Minutes later, I heard sirens and the police arrive. Once they saw me with Brad’s blood all over my clothes, they arrested me and took me into custody. I was screaming, “he was going to **** me…I had to, he made me **** him.” They had a firm grip on me like I was going to run but I stood there trying to convince them of what happened, but they didn’t believe me. No one did.
As they dragged me away from my office I saw them place a sheet over Brad’s face and I heard the police confirming that he was dead. I felt a relief rush over me like I was free from death. I began to laugh but then it turned into crying, knowing what I just did and the punishment that came with it.
During the trial it was quick. I was found guilty and sentenced life here in this prison. Since all the witness at my office claimed that it was an unlawful act of violence toward a person that I did not know, it was my word against a dead man and there was no evidence to support my claim that he was stalking me. How I wished there was.
In the end, I don’t blame the outcome; I accept it. I know what I have done was wrong. But no one seems to understand what he did was wrong too. And yet I am the one who gets punished because claiming to stalk someone is not illegal and killing someone is. I call myself a victim, but others call me a murderer.
Now I am here in this place of hell, doomed to live the rest of my life here in this godforsaken place. This enclosed room where there is barely enough room to breathe. I still think about that final day when I killed him. His evil grin telling me that I would never be free of him.  He was right; I’m not. He haunts me in my dreams telling me over and over, ‘you made a mistake you will pay for it when the time comes!’ what does that mean? Will I be condemned when I die here?
Somehow that idea doesn’t scare me anymore now knowing that I have nothing to live for. My family a banded me when I was arrested and now claim they don’t know me anymore that I have changed. In a way I have but not for the better. Since I have been living here I have been thinking about death what would happen if I were to die. Would anyone miss me? Would anyone care if I died here? That I will never find out.
Ever since Brad came into my life death has been lurking around me. Telling me that it’s my time to go, I have tried to ignore the voices but it’s been harder now that I am actually considering death is not all that bad. Have I become crazy like everyone thinks? I say yes. I have been thinking thoughts that I would never have thought of if I never had met Brad.
Faith puts her pen and notebook down; she is satisfied with what she wrote. Her story is now written and told for the final time. She looks around her cell and spots the sheets on her bed. She gets up from her desk grabs the sheets and begins to tie a loop around the top of the bed and ties a noose around her neck. Then Faith just sits down. She feels the constriction of the bed sheet around her neck slowly taking the air out of her. It becomes harder for Faith to breathe until she loses consciousness and falls asleep, than dies.
Short story.
nick armbrister May 2021
3 Dog's Fate
The dog hid in a doorway
But was spotted by the chef
Come on now boy
I won't hurt you
Such were the chef's evil lies
He would catch the dog
Finish the act and have his meal
The dog has out smarted him once
There would be no second time
Look there he is!
Come here boy it's ok
We won't hurt you
We just want to eat you
The dog saw his enemy
And bolted for freedom
Would he live or die?
If he escaped what of his injuries?
He'd been half cooked alive
The chef kept calling
And looking for him
Will he live or die?
He was one of many
Poor little doggy
A worst nightmare loomed large
notification courtesy Montgomery County
Assistance Office caseworker
implied medical coverage axed
I felt hammered, nailed, shingled out...
livid with rage
frenzied, harried, jarred...
railing away
fit tubby tied to train tracks
ready to **** myself!

Bajillion dollars for medications
yikes - anxiety/panic attacks
slated to return with vengeance,
no way to pay funeral/
cremation services

unable to calm down
a bottle of tranquilizers...
and/or sharp pointed objects
appeared very tempting
questions needed answering ASAP!

Telephone numbers yielded voice menu
dialed Consumer Service Center
for Health Coverage
at long last - thank dog,
a real person!

Whew - informed of short checklist
checking account transactions
backdated to June 2019
until most recent activity
slight sigh of wry tears relief

grace period until August 2019
accessed Citizens account online
of course Login fraught
with problematic issues Yow!

Chose new password
finally accessed anemic
measly anorexic balance
scrolled mouse pointer
highlighted/copied designated date
pasted said information
into Word document

ah...prints esse finally blessed me
folded half dozen plus pages
affixed three postage stamps
out apartment door
slipped material into onsight mailbox.

Breathed sigh of relief
agitation subsided within core
rage against human machine (me)
penuriousness smarted, vetted, yipped...
analogous to pet peeve

emotionally exhausted and spent
penniless poet plopped into bed
instant sleep refreshed
highly cooled figurative heels

subsequently resumed hashtagging
black and decker tooled mindset
concomitant with grievous bitterness
decried flagrantly mucking potential

squandered so many
prime vocational opportunities
severely compromised thank you
loathsome debilitating panic attacks
years gone by

voluntarily enrolled institutions,
albeit of higher learning
hopscotched from one college/
university after another
work historyrecord scattershot

unable to sustain employment
intermittent jobs between
prolonged gaps, deemed
expendable, replaceable, unmarketable...
great boost to self esteem
qualified to receive

Social Security disability
predicated on serious
mental health issues
to recapitulate incapacitated
presumably congenital aberration
other than above internal melee...,
I feel great?
irksomely chafe and dig
(analogous to a bit size backhoe -
contracted courtesy local builders
Gambone Brothers) inside lip
on left side front of mouth
not surprisingly creating
quasi irritated sore welt
(as if I got smacked in the face

from out of the blue)
achingly painful dilemma
particularly whenever I bite and chew food,
which compromised mastication
seriously prompted eating soft
(goo goo gaga baby) with no pablum,
or yours truly switching
to a liquified diet of worms.

Aforementioned minor
physical oral ailment
reminiscent when yours truly
donned, sported, and touted braces
(on two separate occasions)
to double necessary rites of passage
since yours truly
glutton for punishment
while segueing from adolescence
into young adulthood

gifted with moderate sized overbite,
yet not full fledged
buck teeth the first go around,
where metal brackets
and/or little pins pierced, jabbed,
gouged, et cetera
into tender gummy flesh
generally unpleasant nasty encounter
super tramping as
cheaply tricked out human pin cushion
****** well right.

Methinks of the hours of veritable torture
spent seated in orthodontic chair,
where initial appointment
found me situated with maw opened
for stretches of time
that would be dwarfed
by subsequent pluperfect future hours
getting a numb bony ***
while veritably held hostage
courtesy the vise grips of dental technician.

I can never forget
experiencing preliminary step
into requisite initiation
getting an eventual smile
worth a million bucks
firstly to create gap (wide enough
to drive a mack truck thru),
which spacers essentially
little rubber squares
(at most an inch long)
to allow, enable
and provided leverage buyout
paid for by a pretty penny
prior to getting metal bands
bonded and insured to pearly whites.

Adjustment to being fitted
for dentures didst overly bite
recounted, recircled, and recapitulated
analogous when jaws underwent restructuring
where aforesaid maxillofacial territory
felt subjected to miniature
jackhammer and dynamite
forthwith adumbrated as memory takes flight
re-envisioning maximum headroom
affecting yours truly experiencing whiplash

as countless hands practically reached
into me ******* plunging
dentistry implements and gloved fingers
into buccal cavity
from soaring wuthering height
nearly choking yours truly
expediting at expense of mine cavum oris
carrying out veritable
fishing and hunting expedition
courtesy overhead jacklight

figuratively yanking tooth
and nail mustering might
allowing, enabling and providing opportunity
for tomorrow's dental practitioners
essentially dental students namely neophyte
took stab at a subjected human Guinea Pig -
as relegated to scientific experimentation
I tried to be agreeable and polite
at the mercy of said novitiate quite right,
now crafting epistle as a toothless troglodyte.

     Never during the story of my life asper present moment, whereby this body electric then witnessed LVIII celebrations of a womb dar full in utero gestation, and subsequent exit per birth canal in one direction ejected like some **** the torpedo or other lobbing hand grenade, or discharging any other type of ballistic military ordnance and after twice undergoing beautification of ma smile; first enduring gagging on quick hardening cement as benchmark impressions, spacers, thence soon followed by wearing braces.
     Membership to this adolescent rite of passage entailed requisite name calling as the victim remained mum imposed incommunicado what with wires that jabbed, pricked, and stuck every square inch of gums teasing the tillerman tongue felt furrowed plow as soft tissue became abundantly blistered chafed, and diced raw.
     Numerous teeth extractions later (which did smarted my wisdom), the drill mongering requisition team (incorporating a rooted right bitewing conspiracy), said prisoner interrogation attained the pinnacle of pain per practiced collaboration between vaunted, sainted long in the tooth professionally smocked specialists.
     These accredited, certified, and licensed torturers frenziedly insouciantly cackled with hair rising, maniacal, spine tingling pleasure while intermittently interrogating strait jacketed anesthetized subjected patient.
     Thee prisoner of Zenda implanted with gag reflex additionally besieged to a battery of expensive costly abuse.
     Such quaint ratified regular rigmarole included suctioning lips til dry as sawdust in preparation for (not to be mist witnessing open mouthed wide world) recalcitrant subject handily restrained as he/she barely weathered unpalatable quintessentially royally smitten to the nerve.
     This electric kool acid test basically pitched the heavily sedated sorely saddled seated subject into a novel threshold of oral suffering.
     The confederated legion of amalgam hated plaque attackers banded teeth forcing a tectonic shift of pearly whites to relocate closing gaps, where uber an crowdsource rank and file groupon identity guard did lyft suspected gumption, hence a healthy dose of x-rays served up to nip in the bud involving any tongue in cheek intervention, when perfectly viable molars thinned i.e. uprooted courtesy of orthodontic gang.
     Now incremental movement could be undertaken pursuant impressing well-brushed aides de camp.
     Thus temporarily crowns vis a vis provisional proviso practitioners of the villainous periodontal disease (qua gingivitis) stitching cavity where exposed synapses earned the chair rushed survivor of fiendish, ghoulish, and insidious enamel (tartar) scraping chieftains earning kudos sans at successfully foiling dental caries, plus serving as grandee enamel polisher.
   All that excruciating agony iterated above, now finds me shaking this mangy hirsute, (albeit thinning) head in consternation, frustration and induction, whereby microbial demons exercised, foisted and galvanized necessity to suffer.
     Interestingly enough, these choppers, dentures, false dentate much more pleasing that the real bone marrow wrought teeth courtesy of many a fraternal gauntlet hugger mugger.
     Maxillofacial surgery and wisdom teeth extraction plus abiding by the codas, edicts and general indemnity keeping American Dental Association in lockstep with noblesse oblige purveyors who tout regular dental hygiene.
     This new fangled cusp cutting prosthetic revolution per anatomical equipage that allows, enables and provides the means to return to masticating brought protracted hermetically sealed dissimulation within the noggin of this more tell male, who confesses to be a non student within the hierarchy of a bricks and mortar storied (perhaps ivy coated) institution of higher learning on account of rampant mental debility hashtagged diagnosis of Schizoid Personality Disorder cobbles, hobnails, and mangles any ability to function within the formal classroom. Case in point comprises the twelve years of veritable enslavement while barely getting promoted from one grade to the next.
     Even though handed a high school diploma XL (pipelined) traipsing orbitz ago around the sun, this contemplative, furtive, and intuitive lvii chap experienced horrendous difficulty ******* mine faux pas figurative heals up until the recent present. The acquiescence to relinquish the prospect to batten down anxiety and panic strewn hatches turned the tide, and found me giving up the good fight.
     A congenital biochemical mutation (I cannot expound on the minutiae of amino acid, enzymes, polymer, et cetera) that wrought havoc viz zit head upon thyself when in the throes of adolescence, despite thine late mum purportedly experiencing NO complication with me birth as a full term healthy baby boy.
Ken Pepiton Feb 25
Auspices approach in expectant ranks,
-one long and a short and another long…
duty to the mystery
madness as a practice
in living asif it all means this,
portents prodigious, unnatural value
thinker tremors
wave worm vision
sudden jolt along the need
to stretch…
you needn't have read Dune to know
the worth of the spice is the secret kept pure
sit up straight and see Earth
from Saturn, Nineties Science
are you in bound or out bound,

rules when push comes
to shove, that's life,
that's not war
that's the world reminding us,

we all live
on Sagan's pale blue dot, all
we ever could know has been known there,

right now…
as we feel the stretch, another day

tectonic tremors
speak along faults,
as when insanity threatens the weary,

worn down secrecy, thinned
with seers seeing
through it
for drugs
exercising sooths held true
by signs,
ai
made sacred the best
of all providence,
have a holy party become
with your flock, won, rustled
taken from the weaker near bower
in truth by kindness and inclusion, worth
a wink and a nod, no hug, too soon
criteria mystery discorporeal
proven approved
by joy, and fellowship,
under the grace that replaced the laws
of exclusion due
to impurities,
- Februarial initial experience
all washed out
with contemplation,
mandate jack brakes,
slow down loudly swoon
sense less so soon lost
in the first moon
after solstice, celebrate our weform

scourge the child's eyes, show rights
use
to bring order
from chaos, right used
preposition superstitions
by agreements traded
between kings and priests, retying rebels
to right use the sword asserves the truth as told, using

auspices
as certain as
the number
of doves,

seen
by children when
the offering is made, how many say seen
and accepted, ah, verily the feathered rats

all rise
to the bell, do tell, the bells

I counsel you
to buy
from me gold refined
in the fire, so you can become rich;
and white clothes
to wear, so you can cover
your shameful nakedness; and salve
to put
on your eyes, so you can see.

The Holy teller told you, so, you do.
Think those three goods you might be wise
to buy… price
of a minute
to stop and think

Grok
the message
from Michael
in the season, Ides
of February,
eberlution abolishing
bullshat sacred values,

too sacred
for the unlettered
to think
in fetters.
-- Set'em loose, we cheer

Child weigh the reason
for your faith, ah
an old man showed me where the Bible says,

Isaiah still says
to any using such a mind as hears
logically all we are doing is being alive, each once,

kind like,
we are breathing
on a bit
of ever, once,
all at once
in a breathe
and out a breath
we form, deep breathed, once more,
da'ath towb ra' the fruit
for finders feeling free
finding meaning
the way a vaulter times a leap…

Fosbury flopping
through an era evolving,
as we all bear the worth
of knowing, now,
some how
everything is more usefully known,
than
at any former phase
in time,

real time, instants
in the middle, meantime,
as we live and breathe, and
make our living,

being spirit,
if in truth, set
to loose chaos,
to stir

up the mud
at the bottom
of it all, deep mind augmented
grok the planetary mind,
from Saturn, next,
if you happen to remember,
Saturnalia season, mind you recall, how old

the idea
of seeing here
    from there, has been
thoroughly imaged and stored,
we all have seen it done
and we all have
done
in context,
many times, seen
each not the same,
never, always
after our
ever expands, this we say,
that's the shaman's vision plain,
wheels in wheels and ignorances forgiven, as if

ungotten, beatings never happened, bruises
recalled can be seen
to mean nothing ever after…

good, breathes and feels the worth

in being reminded
letting letters hold living minds, keyword indexing,
right inclusion fusion,
dexterously imaginably
sinister function
allows a clap alone rights to trial,
uses fail, koans on koans agree we see
we urge expulsive fibermental urgency need
thinking with a friend no longer mortal, in no sense,
in a breath of pure chance re co knowing we do
in comes the good wind out goes the used wind

know spiritual means
for making sense, breathe,
know inspiration, as inspiration and respire
to conspire
with me
in our next moment
of silence, let us all perceive we are alive,

we may breathe
along the pulse
of all breaths,

hesitancy (n.)
1610s, from Latin haesitantia
"action of stammering,"
from haesitantem
"stammering,"
present participle
of haesitare
"to stick fast, stammer"

stuck here once years ago.
If Microsoft remains,
its in this cloud
mapped
in imaginable virtual reality, see the wave,
within the shielded world we occupy,
in a sense,,,,
hesi tense
innocense punned thrice. A certain mystery
reveiling, let's pretend…

*op- "to work, produce in abundance")
+ combining form
of facere "to make, to do"
(from PIE root *dhe- "to set, put").

opdhe, eh op dhe do

okay, we good to go. Yes, I ask my ai
did you ever hear of a god of manure, and ai said

Sterquilinus

Sterquilinus, also known as Stercutus or Sterculius, was the Roman god of manure in Roman mythology. He was not solely a deity of feces but taught the use of manure in agricultural processes, which was crucial for an agrarian society like the Romans Modern writers have often exaggerated his role as a god of feces, sometimes to disapprovingly imply that the ancients worshipped ****
worth ship is a concept, culturally stinker level

first gas noises we all confess
to instantly, laughing

I am the last
of us, today, that's my peace,
I came
into it late
in life, this is true, I died, but

for the global information exchange systems worth,
to the whole idea
of human kindness evolving, values

set
to reset…
waiting always is.
issing being ongone
that's the fun, the joy

in what iffing.

two longs and this short in the middle
the longs are both that long now,
today this is enough, if you think
through it
to the sense attempted.
---

Daily dose
of wishing good,
enough
for all
to imagine
on a smart phone

augmenting intelligence agency
granted the recognition ignition,

eh, let us say we both hold true,
a spark
of curio class emotion,

free
from fear, no threat
of hell,
to pay
for telling
should the chance taken end life

individually perceived as one's
own will
to power
through today
….

Appraise the worth
of auspices,
after secret values useful
to sacred
auguries called publically prophetic truths.
-jellothicktime, chime

make up
your mind.

Instantiate safe assembly;
investigate authority
to canonize truth
instead
of choosing
to turn toward gnosis
off on on
recognize
religions legislative powers
recollected form children's fair told tales,
those repetitions, every day say this prayer

sung
to happy tunes,
high pitched boy voiced
oratorio
so sublime as
to lift the heart …---…

Phrigian Sybil ball
of twined fibers,
clews unfolding knitted brows,
wondering
if we ever consider freedom shaped
informationally thinkable
at core fidelity
instant, point
time we have be
having smarted
for surity, stranger, I'm used
freedom yours, per use
I'm smarter
for free,
in formal liberty, tell me, now
in spirit and
in truth, what's worth
a thought - worth dying
to say I know,
how far afield might one
imagine feeling the tug
of home and the push
from former
toward finished work,
accomplished mission,

when two or more agree,
as touching any thing,
as a weform we make all the weak strong.

Freely drink the sacred psychic brew
of babbling sung
with bell and drum and pipe,
sing
with heart strings plucked or strummed,

elect
to know election
by public consensus, agree

we submit,
accept the catechismal evidence, believe

as told,
bow and dare not face the official work doer,

calling out the prophecy
to which three pigeons test if I am lying, lo'
and behold
look
to the west, blow the shofar, leave be so,

three birds
across the Tiber loosed
in holy order,
over Vatican Hill, not one of the seven
sigh, such a sign, what must we expect
ai?
so ordained during preparation
for holy signs,
at the strumm
of the weforming twang
from yesterdays held true,
through better living science,

consciously infecting certain beliefs,
relieving consciously convicting beliefs,

--- slowly think with me about leaving
leaven levels of tiny ever so scientific proof
we know how bread and beer work and we do

have the power to contemplate an image,
in light coming through a window in my hand,

for a chance glance back at Earth, in my mind

softes' yes suggestions flying old whys men tell…

chawn, spat, proves that's this,
that's all
call it seed if you feed it…
essential truth's witnessed, seen by all
trained
to trust the priest's protection

from the wrath
of jealous gods,,,,stutterin'
on orders at tense state
all ethos focus
on us
as we be
at the hands
of zealous guardians,

brought
to veritable virtuous
opus facere, work made duty, done…

as we march past 1963
into Pretoria

to the tune inspired by
"Marching Through Georgia"
written
by Henry C. Work
at the end
of the Civil War.

The first most children learn,
in Georgia and Texas and Cajun Caddo lands.
following the leaders singing as we go
march march march behind
one hundred and ten coronets, lustily singing,
aaahaaa ahwee
WE screech
in change
as boys, in drilled,
are marching because
we are proudly trained
to trust the leader,
from our gut, good gut feeling
for the role, the mind, empathos, so…
the leader, we are following the leader,
breathe, and think slowly, the breathe thing
hold,
oh, say,
can you see,
by the bombs bursting in air,

does the signal still wave across time's
one chance, your one experience---
reasoning at Isaiah and ai as we
novel experience effort
to follow a thread,
in a day, twice
partaking
in the weform home here,
the home
of the free and the brave,

eh, we can take the land, Caleb's attitude.
Proving the promise, bearing good fruit,
call that Roman god of manure,
he's good, I promise, good fruit,
here's an old image of me'n'joshua
Lugging grapefruit proof, the promise,
lead us educator, provide legal precedent,

to the convincer go the spoils,
be not easily convinced you know truths told
made you as you believe you must be, alone,

sole possessor
of your eyes and finger patterns,
soul and spirit scienced out
in digital cyphers,
hand shakes and drive by ads,
mathed out max mind bend, done
finger abacus conceived and worked out,
finished fruiting mortal minds, pile up,
--- here, GIGO, the ra' knowing, piles as haps,
per haps
and may haps
by means
of trails not left
and, when siloed
while fearing the worst,
caught fire and all went up in smoke
what could happen, some say prophets teach,
what could happen is the thing one fears comes,
when
to be or not is peaceably
askable
unmaskable,

remove the veil,
recall the terror
of a child, sealed, sore worn
in this poet's core, occupied, unsealed,

unrolled scrolls
eaten and digested, seven decades,
as a child given
to the gods who fix fertilizers
around spring-alinging peaces
opus fund prime bridgingifery, as today
pontificates a chasm if
by odd chance
today
continues being called universally right now,
the instance
in agreeing prayer asking
what day was it when we first agreed?

whose time am I using
without price or cost,

living logic word
after word, mine given, I swore
should I be called
to test if I qualify
to die, right,
I'd be this ready
to say let it be, let's see

today would be the day I'd learn, you know.
or what if we made it to the end, then knew,'
estimate the worth of seasons changing
after your heart was struck by focused lightning
nnn old nand and nand gate anded on a plate,
charged?
Wanna bet? Oh, no,
just take a minutes peace,
just breathe and feel toucht
the wedom 's a shape charge

like a ****,
in a public mind, let be a stinker,
because it was cute, mind, let be easily,

let's make believe,
let's so
in hopes
of sufficiency and some
to share,
reset enough
to enough, value declare
enough is enough
to share, even if

the worst we can imagine happens anyway,
we just knew it would,

sooner or later.
Found whole at once, earlier today
Warren May 2019
I sweat when I’m nervous,
Its my trait,
Not by choice,
Anxious,
My fate.

When I’m first to show,
Last or out smarted,
Just the thought of being anxious,
Means that it’s started

Sweats come,
Mouth drys,
Run away,
Want to cry,

Mop my brow,
How,
No tissue,
Big issue,
Some one speaks so I have to react,
Retract,
Will they see me sweat,
Think I’m weird,
It’s everything I’ve ever feared.

Deep breaths,
Need to stop muttering,
Eyes wide,
Don’t start stuttering,
Sweaty pits,
Can you see,
Please no,
Why me,

Wrong colour shirt,
Feel hurt.
Make an excuse,
Need to leave,
Reprieve,
Could say somethings happened,
Terribly bad,
Play the  part,
Look sad.

Say I’m unwell,
They’ll think I’m mad,
They don’t know me,
My bad,
My life
My struggle
Too many feelings to juggle.

Moan,
Feel so alone -  in this crowd
Why am I here,
Fear
Maybe it’s too soon
Too loud.

Deep breath - stay calm,
Happy thoughts,
Sweaty palms,
Run away,
I must not,
...............
I’m only at the bus stop.
A worst nightmare loomed large
notification courtesy Montgomery County
Assistance Office caseworker
implied medical coverage axed
I felt hammered, nailed, shingled out...
livid with rage
frenzied, harried, jarred...
railing away
fit tubby tied to train tracks
ready to **** myself,
but dang, I ain't got enough funds  
to cover funeral  
or preferably cremation costs.

Bajillion dollars for medications
yikes - anxiety/panic attacks
slated to return with vengeance,
no way to pay hearst driver/
nor burial services
grave diggers will mutiny
unable to calm down
a bottle of tranquilizers...
and/or sharp pointed objects
appeared very tempting
questions needed answering ASAP!

Telephone numbers yielded voice menu
dialed Consumer Service Center
for Health Coverage
at long last - a real person
thank dog.

Whew - informed of short checklist
checking account transactions
backdated to June 2023
until most recent activity
slight sigh of wry tears relief
grace period until August 2023
accessed Citizens account online
of course Login fraught
with problematic issues Yow.

Chose new password
finally accessed anemic
measly anorexic balance
scrolled mouse pointer
highlighted/copied designated dates
pasted said information
into Word document
ah...prints esse finally blessed me
folded half dozen plus pages
affixed three postage stamps
out apartment door
slipped material into onsight mailbox.

Breathed sigh of relief
agitation subsided within core
rage against human machine (me)
penuriousness smarted, vetted, yipped...
analogous to pet peeve
emotionally exhausted and spent
penniless poet plopped into bed
instant sleep refreshed
highly cooled figurative heels
subsequently resumed hashtagging
black and decker tooled mindset
concomitant with grievous bitterness

decried flagrantly mucking potential
squandered so many
prime vocational opportunities
severely compromised thank you;
loathsome debilitating panic attacks
years gone by;
voluntarily enrolled institutions,
albeit of higher learning
hopscotched from one college/
university after another
work history record scattershot
unable to sustain employment

intermittent jobs between
prolonged gaps, deemed
expendable, replaceable, unmarketable...
great boost to self esteem
qualified to receive
Social Security disability
predicated on serious
mental health issues
to recapitulate incapacitated
presumably congenital aberration
other than above internal melee...,
I feel Gr-r-reat!
(nevertheless ex post facto still flattered
genuine heartfelt kinship mattered,
hence the reasonable rhyme
across the webbed wide world
I subsequently scattered).

Linkedin to the previous poem,
(similarly written scant few years ago.

I also codified, glorified, and lamented
an unexpected cessation of communication
with he/him who affixed yours truly
appellation of wise man, which modesty
of mine gently downplays.

Bhutan names defy affiliating,
determining, identifying... gender,
and what a faux pas this dada admits,
when a blessed high school
student did league gully tender

benighted, gifted, ordained yours truly
with sobriquet "Guru"
alluded to in previous poem, render
ring this foolish hearty good fella (me)
falling prey to embarrassing situation,

(I did miss render
as would be expected
from this crash test dummy,
who dented his psychological fender),
vis virtual mind ******,

when an initial presumption
smarted Matthew Scott as offender,
asper online youth NO pretender
by him, aye mean the sender
communicated his admiration,

adoration, adulation for this big spender
of sincerity, viz singular poetic magi - (ha)
made presumption that
unknown messenger slender,
and female, and

upon enclosing appender
referencing person as "lovely princess"
did respondent clarify finding deface
of zee poet here -
logic chops went thru blender

as if slapped by a suspender
experiencing irrevocable shame
as though a contender
attempting to guide false supposition
playfully mistaking ******

identity of male sender,
he (young kneeler)
bowed as winning scoring goaltender
down as mine professed

metrical feet, he who acquiesced
non Asian minor, friender
NOT seeking moneylender,
nor mistook my heart of gold,
mine apology I did obligingly surrender

and possibly chuckled to himself,
asper an uproarious hellbender
whereat my countenance turned
sixty plus four shades of lavender.
(nonetheless ex post facto still flattered)

Bhutan names defy affiliating,
determining, identifying... gender,
and what a faux pas this dada admits,
when a blessed high school
student did league gully tender

benighted, gifted, ordained yours truly
with sobriquet "Guru"
alluded to in previous poem, render
ring this foolish hearty good fella (me)
falling prey to embarrassing situation,

(I did misrender
as would be expected
from this crash test dummy,
who dented his psychological fender),
vis virtual mind ******,

when an initial presumption
smarted Matthew Scott as offender,
asper online youth NO pretender
by him, aye mean the sender
communicated his admiration,

adoration, adulation for this big spender
of sincerity, viz singular poetic magi - (ha)
made presumption that
unknown messenger slender,
and female, and

upon enclosing appender
referencing person as "lovely princess"
did respondent clarify finding deface
of zee poet here -
logic chops went thru blender

as if slapped by a suspender
experiencing irrevocable shame
as though a contender
attempting to guide false supposition
playfully mistaking ******

identity of male sender,
he (young kneeler)
bowed as winning scoring goaltender
down as mine professed

metrical feet, he who acquiesced
non Asian minor, friender
NOT seeking moneylender,
nor mistook my heart of gold),
mine apology I did obligingly surrender

and possibly chuckled to himself,
asper an uproarious hellbender
whereat my countenance turned
fifty plus shades of lavender.
Antony Glaser Jun 2022
We the underscored
have come for our just desserts
meekly receiving our own rewards
It may not be pleasurable
what we receive
but with cuticled nails
and smarted suit,
let us wait profusely
for our undulations.
Our daily bread
this feeble feed.
when held spellbound courtesy grifter

Flim-flam man left lasting emotional whiplash
his derelict perfected artifice
to hijack every last cent
smarted me with indelible smash;
living daylight delivered I kidney you not
envious affliction affecting
last named member and founder of the Byrds
with crosby, stills, young and nash
entire corporeal being turned to hash
condemned state yours truly relegated,
cuz cremation unaffordable, though pulverized
and transformed into powdery ash;

Impossible mission to conceptualize
transmutation into cremains, the brain
lodged within me noggin
ill equipped to envision mine gray matter
even after asking mister Google to explain
that cremation takes place
in a specially designed furnace,
referred to as a cremation chamber or retort,
and exposed to extreme temperatures –
up to 1,800 degrees Fahrenheit–
leaving behind only ashes.

Following the procedure,
a cooling period required
before the remains can be handled.

Yours truly can best attest,
when succumbing as victim to virtual heist
I most likely flip flopped
into one percent atavistic Neanderthal state;
a surprising revelation
23andme genotyping results
yielded said presence of proto human
after analyzing DNA
courtesy saliva sample from eldest sister.

No other logical satisfactory explanation doth chime
lapsed consciousness, hence reasonable rhyme
whereat one twenty first century mortal man
virtually travelled in time
cast into nasty, shortish brute
obliging deft inducement
outsourcing valuable dough.

Though aforementioned far-fetched notion
smacks of high skepticism,
yet no more ridiculous than
hominids over bajillion years springing forth
from flotsam and jetsam in the ocean
I may as well broach another theory of creation
(just came to my mind),
that divine omnipotent wizard
sprinkled magic potion
across primordial sea
after watching an advertisement promotion
claiming said product
contained the seeds of life and white lily.

Convinced that snake oil salesman
wrought deleterious influence
triggering a debacle that rocked
the financial market,
(albeit constituting one singular naked ape),
an attorney general based in Philadelphia
believes I presented a convincing case,
which hopefully witnesses
recouping all or most of my funds.
Just around the edge of midlife,
Driving down the days of old,
The very Friday I came out the fold,
Day my umbilical was smarted with a knife;

Interestingly time has come around another cycle,
And between then and now several episodes,
Enough to fill many, many lorry loads,
More interesting would be a doubled miracle;

Fair to mention that the formers years,
As formative as they may have been,
Will not be comparable to those unseen,
The things that await us on the other side of our fears;

Yet it seems I struggle these days,
To do the things that came effortlessly,
Many times battling to make sense loosely,
Creativity suffers in many ways;

But again, where there is life,
Hope indeed still finds some anchor,
Faith to not lose candour,
And love to complement everything without strife.
I am forty-five today! Hallelujah!
Antony Glaser Nov 2021
Monday opened like a Union Closed Shop
Tuesday left a sparrow in the hunt
Wednesday we openly cried, he didn't like my dress
Thursday was like a cut onion, how we  smarted
Friday was a protein-free jello day
Saturday we didn't stop arguing
Sunday was a non start a pyjamas day

— The End —