real life.

hard styles.
that's what happens,
every day in every way.
up here,
in the woodsly goodsly hottness-
that's pretty much the general rule, ninjas.
i mean it.
if you've got any sense of style,
it's almost always a hard style.
drunk flunkies, all redneck and incorrect,
ill, illiterate, and filled to the brim with rural resentment...
those quiet, stale, softnesses make the
eleventh-level-type really-real warrior poets seem worth a darn.
you know what i mean, yeah?
we're doo-dooing what we do,
and not letting the dense-packed doldrums kick our A*s.
that counts for a lot.
i'm sayin', son-
without them, we'd just be us.
the have-nots, neighbors,
those weak-sauce wallflowers are here to
make the sweet parts that much sweeter,
because that bitter batter makes the Folk Life better.
it's like sourdough, duders.
they're sour about how little dough they've got,
but they keep rising up like yeasty beasts.
acrimonious.
that's that >10 crowds' jam, i guess.
and that's word, you dread pirates-
life is pain,
anyone who says differently is selling something.
that's real life.
go ahead and document it;
i meant it.
what it means, my friends,
is that as long as we keep keeping it up,
our superfly turbo-dope mothra magic
is gonna continue to carry the day.
it has to.
if not then what is the whole point?
no, for real-
i'm asking you.
************
it's one of those days, kids.
a perfect 10.
sunny, shiny, bright, tight, and alright.
even the calendar says it's a ten.
no foolin',
but,
since when is ten good enough for anything?
i mean,
what are we?
a bunch of A*-holes?
uh-uh.
no way are we gonna let the date set the stage
for a watered-down waterbaby saucefest.
it's an eleven kind of ten.
it's thursday.
it's thor's day.
that's hammer time,
AND thunder time.
and self-regenerating goat chariot time...
ummm.
okay.
maybe not that last one,
although us crap-ricorns could sure use an auto-heal feature like that.
what i mean to imply is,
it'd be nice to know that i could have a do-over clause written into
my skaldic stanzas,
because i am on that lightning-striking viking-type jauns today.
so HARD.
if you have the means,
i suggest you come by and get a little...
for your face.
thunder is just the sky applauding electifying actions.
c'mon;
never quiet, never soft.....