The Mind Tool
With the light of a thousand
Fluorescing yes / sparkling no.
Because the unitard is
Not the weapon of choice.
Canned pseudo-meat is
Where it’s at.
And where it’s at
Twain invented chortling
Not at Woodstock.
That would be
Hail the conquering bunbun beast.
Submit Your Petulance
Flesh blindness and illumination is a far cry from dance
One exhilarating struggle and all man strains the realm of fleeting darts.
Soft continues the executive’s awareness
You, the silky portal, gazing behind him,
Bite through the grisly rim of his answer.
He may sign your paycheck, but each journey begins with your own little game of sudoku or other fill in the blank plankton.
I can’t chortle if they just keep warming the continuity, after all!
Know the other buttress.
Know. The. Other.
‘Tis the season of mass-conflagration.
A downpour of mis-education,
And you thought it was raining, silly.
The lemon, they say, is not sour
If you touch it just the right way.
Shall I chortle & run
Now there is an idea.
Hey, this sure is shiny. I should get one.
Bad Things III
Draining your weasel on the carpet
is not the best gift a grown child can give