remember, remember.

blowin' sh!t up, ninjas.
that's on the schedule of events today.
no,
i won't be wearing a guy fawkes mask.
i'll be occupying north conway, for sure;
taking up space with loud, fresh, hardness...
...for your face, of course-
but,
i'll mostly be preoccupying my brainwaves
with brutal berserker barbaric capitalism.
that means the only bombs that'll get dropped
will be tattbombs, duders.
it means the only parliament we'll blow up today
will be that funkadelic jauns, y'all.
wooooooooord.
...y'heard?
barbarian capitalism!!
what's up with viking-style jack-moves for those movie checks?
lightning-striking thatch-roof barn burning
bearded battle-beast business, b!tchbags.
what?
is there room for one more?
most assuredly, mutha-lickers.
the object is always more.
sorry guido, but that vendetta mask
is not invited to my moustache ride-along....
besides,
V for vagina is not what's up today.
it's a sinister sausage attack,
inflated, enfiladed, flayed, and filleted from all sides.
ouch.
on second thought,
that is pretty flippin' terrible to even imagine.
but still, no masks.
***********
well, neighbors,
it's a sleepy, ice-frosted saturday morning.
we've got colors getting muted more each day.
trees shed their clothes and get naked and ready for sleep.
that leaves crunching leaves underfoot, (c'mon)
both dry and slippery all at once.
tomorrow it'll be a raking yardwork maintenance nightmare,
but today,
those discarded photosynthesizers are gonna be a smoky
sacrifice to our november embers.
hot fire,
stinky stumps,
lamps and lanterns,
and a whole bunch of fruitless occupation.
get it?
double entendre, like a mutha-F*er, son.
*
remember, remember the fifth of november.
i'm hoping for some hottness
that can activate an unforgettable furor, frenzy,
and freshness for the fifth, my ninjas.
i'm ready for anything,
hoping for everything,
and expecting nothing.
sounds like i've assembled all the ingredients
for a sh!t-salad sandwich.
awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww, man.
maybe if i listen to beethoven's fifth,
whilst drinking a fifth of white lightnin',
on fifth avenue?
what's up saks?
of course, i'd spell it sacks,
and let the rest of the world start a-suckin'....
inappropriate?
c'mon.
who said that?
yeah?
well i plead the fifth, kids.
all right, now that will do;
never quiet, never soft.....