ripper.

november is not as expert as october.
it never is.
that's for real.
who thought of making such a cold, grey bummer
out of a whole mess of fading, failing autumn days?
on the ones,
that mutha-lickin' inventor is fired.
word up.
the only month that doesn't go to eleven
IS the eleventh month.
that's sort of a clever plot twist, really.
nobody saw that one coming.
*
duders,
it's friday,
nothin' fresh is poppin',
it's dark outside,
and it's a little tiny bit snowing.
c'mon.
that's november, y'all.
did i ever tell you ninjas how it's
my least favorite month?
well, i should've,
because that's a true story.
we'll survive, neighbors,
but we'll complain the whole time.
that's how we make lemonade.
y'know,
with piss, and vinegar,
spoiled and turned from sour grapes.
in the meantime,
we've got a roaring fire,
lighted, ignited, and excited,
and a few leftover blops and blocks,
and a determined sugary sweetness
that should see us through until tomorrow.
then,
it's gunpowder treason and plot jauns.
for sure, my ninjas,
days of fire and scheming and sh!t
are pretty much awesome.
celebrating the hanging and drawing and quartering
is a little more disturbing,
but,
if it means bonfires and cigars,
i guess i'm all for it.
*
november, folks.
what a hard style;
never quiet, never soft.....