Tuesday, July 31

agent orange julius?

circumventing happenstance with unhappy circumstance?
is that real?
wait.
what?
duders,
say goodbye to yet another 'nother month.
thirty-one more days of satisfactory disappointment.
y'heard?
if underwhelming unfulfilled expectations is your thing,
then you probably had a pretty mutha-b!tchin' good time.
but that's over and out as of midnight, kids-
so say adios to julio and sh!t, suckas.
july peaces-out into pieces of falling-apart today.
yep.
dismantled and disinitegrated,
disinterested and disastrous.
neighbors,
i'm spending time like a miser,
but i'm spanning it like a counterclockwise turn
of a sunovab!tchin' wrench.
that's that loosening-type jauns, friends.
...for realsies.
my spidery spindlestick arms and legs however,
are reppin' multiple new bulges and bumps.
i choose the wrench in both directions, ninjas.
right action,
rebuilt, from the inside out,
for tighter tolerances and harder styles.
i'm strengthening the tendons and the sinews, son.
i'm focusing the lenses of my perseveration,
and my perseverance on What Is.
you know what that kind of intensive activation engenders?
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
a whip-smart stalwart of worthy warrior poetry!
i doo-doo that.
that's how it works.
building up and breaking down.
decomposing prose and dissecting dialogue,
lifting weight, and waiting for anything uplifting.
awwwww, man.
*
today is the day.
the last one, again.
an empty collection of hours, days, and weeks,
segueing into a furiously fevered full-style moon.
black and blue, yellow and silver,
it's a disappearing bruise,
not yet gone to greener hues
and bleaker pastures;
a fading ache,
still sore, like the memory of prior victories
in the face of perpetual defeat;
a lingering blemish,
the soft, pale scar left by a prom-night pimple.
the last, least exhale- a serpentine death rattle and hum,
a remiss hiss of expelled geas and gasses,
and the ghost takes shape.
the circle in the sky looks down,
and follow-spots a soliloquy by the geist of
woodsly goodness.
limned in gold, and shrouded in quicksilver.
cue exeunt, drop curtain, see you tomorrow.
jeez, guys-
it's all really happening.
and as usual,
that's the whole point.
even when it sucks balls,
and especially when the styles are hard,
there is always more to be had.
*
i'll leave you on a high note, though.
folks,
check the teleport:
wordimus prime!
that's a full-coverage wall-to-wall ball
of sprankles.
it's all i've got,
it's all you get;
never quiet, never soft.....7x23 

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