obvious, inaccessible.

duders,
there are only hard styles available.
just sayin',
the days are getting molto dark,
and so is the general mood in these mountains.
i'm on that grim viking skald sh!t.
pointed paeans to the pugnacious essence of autumn.
we GOT they.
the trees may just be going to sleep,
but that shed vitality sure looks a whole lot like dying to me.
burning leaves like funeral pyres,
breathing in fire,
blowing out ash,
distilling the infinite nature of nature in a crucible...
for serious.
sitting outside in the starlight,
puffing on some pitch black stink stumps,
letting that sour smoke stink up the scene y'all.
coils of ghost ring smoke rings,
rising and reeking and infusing everything.
it's a rough kind of purposeful relaxation,
more harm than help.
if it doesn't hurt,
you're just not using the right wrench, kids.
hot fire, cold weather, and long nights.
it's all there really is.
that's pure november.
and it is the worst.
***********
neighbors,
deep-cover reclusive, elusive, illicit
hermit action is what i'm doo-dooing-
just for you.
on the ones,
you folks can NOT hang out
with this surly, burly barbarian brutality.
the few unlucky long-time ninjas i know
will be well aware of what i'm talking about.
old-school albie rock action.
like from the before-times an' that.
ask a mutha-ucka about it if you don't know....
like an overzealous editor-
finding fault in everything,
and taking whatever's left out on everybody else.
you like it,
i love it,
and it's what's really happening.
the dwindle, friends.
an effortless ebbing of expertism,
replaced in word and deed
with inelegant, insensitive activation.
the hardest styles,
the loudest curses,
the freshest flavor...
...of bitterness.
shhhhhhh.
y'hear that?
that's the sound of nature, winning;
never quiet, never soft.....