Taking what life throws at me one pitch at a time
Considering how long life has been scuttling around on this heap of magma, lava, smegma, and other solidified forms of said substances: I need to know after which flood do you inquire. So I wrote this tanka instead.
Misunderstood bugs
Antediluvian ants
And what they hath wrought
Things my Uncle George did with
My Auntie Diluvian
From flood plain to astral plane, trying to keep my head above water.
Just like ant
🐜🐜🐜🐜🐜
I got a boulder
On my shoulder trying to crush
Me as I moulder
It's what I can do
As I try to mitigate
Sorrows of the world
I rummage about
In rubbish I've left behind
The frolics of yore
The many sheets from before
Bits and bytes of things to come
Stacks of melted wax
The mess of cassette formats
All shapes and sizes
Twentieth century discs
Magneto stuff lost in mists
All up in the cloud
Or that's what I have been told
Digital rummage
NFTs now will be sold
Just like the tulips of old
No lugging required
Paper trail's have long been trashed
Memories now stored
By our server overlords
Just one EMP away
Remember: A.I. thinks the word “memories” has four syllables. They are: me-m-o-ries. 🤣
I saw
People I knew
Some alive
Some dead
Some like the cat
Both states are true
Until I take a peek
At the obits
Rustling newspaper
Read with dread
Nevermore
Now I seek
Dirge diving
Off the cold ledge
Of a search engine portal
All this because
Of another
Dream dredge
The culmination
Of eighty years
Full access
Multipass
To the best things
Money can buy
Offered up
By our culture
In this phase
Of civilization
Has facilitated
Into being
Foisted upon
The whole world
For all to see
Our very own
Homegrown
Abomination
I watch minimal opinions
Floating on subliminal water
Of my existence
From my point of view
On my timeline
In my right now
My mind wonders
I flush
Where did they come from
Where are they going
Then I wipe my mind
Move to my next point of view
A sorcery full of secrets
Full up to the brim
With milk of human malign
Or dandelion wine
Slopping over the rim
Whether to right a wrong
Or to wrong a right
Pick your assignment
Change the weather
Change the channel
Mumble a chant
Bang a gong
Sing a song
Even if you can't
Black cat moan
Depends on the saucer
Depends on the milk
Depends on the sorcerer
It's all in the spell
Drizzle Drazzle Druzzle Drome
The fire of time
Gives all
An incandescent glow
From down
Deep in the soul
Making us
The lambent light
For all insight
It took two bellhops
Four trips up four flights of stairs
To my fourth floor flop
Left stacked at the door was all
My emotional luggage.
some appear to want
to cease our #interregnum
which spanned o'er our land
seventeen seventy six
until twenty twenty four
because how we roll
spin pitch and yaw through our space
lucky to live on
a planet so nice we get
equinox equinox twice
This ain't no time to clown
So the doctor ordered
A #sempiternal epidural
The perfect reality bevel
For us to slide on down
To the next worse level
Out in the barnyard
Stinkiest foul fowl proclaimed
Pheasants bow to me
Pecked and scratched his messy mark
All his chickens clucked around
Is there such a thing
as good #grief? Healthy maybe.
Cathartic perhaps.
Therapeutic even. But
good grief! No way! Nay I say.
Black markets arise
Gangsters and Banksters take #joy
Fleecing has begun
Bribery is legal and
Extortion is a virtue
when a senile old
man makes this amount of #noise
by setting his farts
aflame on the worldwide stage
something's seriously wrong
🎶 We gotta get outta displace 🎶
🎶 If it's last thing we ever do 🎶
Overwrought souls
Bought cheaply sold
Landgrab diplomacy
Firehose hypocrisy
Assault on decency
Distraught humanity
Onslaught on sanity
Caught with no exit
Or as we all call it
Tuesday
Living with a pestilence
Of pure and simple petulance
Now turn out the light
Shut the door behind you
Don't bother me
Cause I can't cope
And hey you
Get off my lawn too
Cue the daily ritual
Lighting of the fart royale
Broadcast to the public
Has become habitual
Applauded by the loyal
Performed by the duo dynamic
One deep in his dotage
One goofy from his dosage
This became our national discourse
As media beats a dead horse
A lost thoroughfare
Rambled over confusion
Fever dream sickness
An emotional wasteland
To a silent cul de sac
Cloudy. Lukewarm. Grey.
With a fine sheen of soap scum
Bathtub stained and dank
Families weekly bath water
One tub a week from now on
A Scroll Threw Life 