Taking what life throws at me one pitch at a time
Keep it stupid simple
Oops
I got it backassward again
I believe I will supsup it out
If I follow my stream
Of unconsciousness
Though it may be
A circuitous route
If I step into a river once
Then repeat process
It's never the same river twice
That's me following my snout
Sensing the bait before me
Compelling me to click it out
Stop the processing
I recall it all now
Keep it simple stupid
So come on
KIck it out
My nostalgia for infinity
Took a long time to get here
Even longer to disappear
In the rear view mirror
Liked the movie
The book was better
Apples to oranges
Graded on a curve
Melons to the rind
Things of a kind
Birds of a feather
Judgemental find
Original or cover
Anticipations hover
Spending time
In decisive grind
Neither is heeded
Some things are fine
No rating needed
From me or you
On most things
Thumb has retired
No up
No down
No exposition required
Let things of a kind
Be of their kind
When I signed up for the Gladiator Pilates class I should have been more suspicious. From the teapot poised on a plank resting on cinder blocks in the middle of the classroom, to the velvet gloves issued to each participant; the question arose. Was this a union instructor or just a Visigoth scab. The dove on the teacher’s shirt was a dead give away. I asked for a refund immediately.
So many versions of this blues standard. But this is my favorite.
But the first blues song I remember hearing was this. Wore the grooves off this album.
What started as a run on sentence
Begat this unholy scat
things that used to make me blush
even while I was in such a rush
only then wanting them to hush
telling people to shush up
after reaching out to touch
trying to grasp a whole bunch
many hours before for lunch
until I heard that nasty crunch
a terrible accident as such
sent me reeling
without punctuation
on this river
of verbiage ramblation
unable to deliver with punch
so Ill fake it into cush
make it look like
planned adverse
while I sit here
on my tush
Today
Things on public display
That might or might not
Make us blush
Would probably have
Given our ancestors
The vapors
Real or feigned
Been living my life
One card shy of a full deck
Loving every deal
Had one up my sleeve
Bluff called before I could leave
Cuff usurped the sleight
Fifty two skiddoo
Had no clue what I should do
Cut the cards and flew
Our knowledge of space is pure speculation.
On the fringe stands The Eavesdrop Inn.
Best burger for light years.
Ingredients unknown
But their motto is:
To Serve Man
nouveau riche caste search
never achieves the rich niche
gaude sublimate
with garish accoutrements
gauche ticky tacky gild trash
A Scroll Threw Life 