which balls? witch balls!

what's the fastest way to secure a tranquil homestead?
is it having a roof?
(i hope not because mine is pretty F*ed right now)
is it compassionate communication?
(because i'm SO listening...riiight. suckle it)
how about a good night's sleep?
(whatever that mythic lie is supposed to be)
nope.
it is decidedly none of that.
it's less about spirited memory and more like superstitious 'sauce;
not so much warrior poetry as bad 60's beat poetry.
all you're gonna need to do?
get busy trappin' those bad vibes, man.
i'm sayin',
you've gotta make sure you only keep the positive waves flowin'.
especially in the woodsly goodness.
that's no joke.
there's bad b!tches out there trying to curse you for the worse.
that's not cool.
they change into toads, they fly around on broomsticks,
heck, they get naked...with goats!
how do we keep those negative nancypants profligators away?
new england's old timers knew what was up:
witch balls.
you know-
those glass kugels-(the big blown-ball jauns, not the jewish glop).
the ones with strands of glass goobieblops in 'em like shiny roots,
for luring in the lurid wicked women;
them who want to F* with your sh!t-,
thereby encasing their sinful selves
inside of the sparkle-magical orbs.
then, i guess, when day breaks, so does their spell-cast suckiness.
c'mon.
that's pretty dope.
but,
why's it gotta be all about awful ladies and not dudes?
because men areusually too busy doing manly stuff,
and girls are bad news.
everybody knows that.
besides,
then we'd also need warlock balls.
and those huevos de brujos are totally not the same thing.
...trust me.
anyway, where can YOU get some of these tasty talismans,
to warm your windows, free the posi-vibes, and freshify your face,
without making a devil's deal to afford 'em?
why, at the kugel house, of course.
my wifey's berfday treats arrived early,
and i couldn't wait all the way until july 3rd (don't forget it)
to dish out the dopeness.
no, for really real.
look:

that's caramel, for the kitchen.

that there is a great big sphere of sexy in mixed reds and yellows for the living room.

this one? it's called ivy. word up.
it's in the arcane vaults.
y'know, where the magic happens.
you'd know it as a bedroom.

and the new turbo-sexy downstairs bathroom.
you love it, don't you?
it's called 'camouflage', and it's got boogery colors in it.
that's how you know it's good.
you especially like the rembrandt action, huh?
self-portrait, ninja!
witch-b!tch-ball-bag-lady-boy.
take that.
***********
it's small pleasures inside of the big picture, kids.
that's how we get by in the mountain realms.
there are eleven different kinds of hard styles,
waiting in the woods,
just to ensorcel and ensnare the unwary.
eleven hard styles?
at least.
here's just one:
chimneys.
chimneys?
more like the lack thereof-
as a matter of fact, i've got a two-story well instead.
yessir, that's the truth.
yep.
a big ol' busted and disgusted, creosote-crusted butthole-gaper,
trailer park tarp and all.
isn't that cool?
especially during an overnight deluge.
go ahead, imagine the dopeness...
   -dear mama nature,
thanks, for setting the record straight-
for just a second there, i thought you were on MY team.
but even though you peed on the bikers, from the sky,
you've kicked it up a notch,
peeing inside my house like that.
good job.
i appreciate the heads up, for sure.
   xoxoxoox,
     a.
-
nature wins, y'all.
she makes sure every day is mother's day;
never quiet, never soft.....