Sunday, November 11

eleveneleven.

eleven.
more to the point-
eleven eleven.
...to eleven.
that's a thing, duders.
today is the day again.
as hard and loud and as turbo-dope as it ever was,
and at least twice as expert.
uh-oh.
y'all know what that means don't you?
yuuuup.
we're gonna act like activists, son!
and we're gonna get active with our activation.
it's a sh!t-salad sunday in the wolds and weirs
of the wodengeisty woodsly goodness,
and we've got it going on.
guns and tattoos and treats and eats and big-time hang outs.
believe it, neighbors.
the super-freshness of a double-eleven calendrical electrification
is humming and buzzing and hurtling down and out like lightning
along the tumblers and relays and over and under and through ALL
the mumbling grumbling minky mincey sodapantsy gaytards and then on
to the pure-being battlements of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
that's where worthy warriors and pugilistic poets give praise and thanks
to the spirits and memories of all that has come before.
and that's not all-
it's also veteran's day, my ninjas.
so tip a sip of your tea and drop a crumb or two of your toast as a toast
for all the soldiers who serve to spit hot fire and hotter lead in the name of freedom.
ummm.
yeah. i'm not an advocate for the imposition of philosophical will through military might,
but i sure as sh!t think guns are dope, so i pick my spots,
and doo-doo all that gratitude and generosity jauns when the time comes up.
*
and that's not all, either.
friends,
he's back!
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
my ace numero-uno live-wire hot fire homeboy from the future is in the house.
teleport:
wordimus prime, mutha-lickers-
it's the cucch!!
that means today was gonna go to eleven even without the date doubling down.
that sidesaddle portrait too serious?
okay:
ha-ha, son.
impish mischief an' that.
we GOT they.
it's gonna be supremely rad, kids.
me and my duders and my peoples,
spanning time and tightening up, one more time.
long weekends and hard-style holidays and congested causeways and effectways
slipping sideways through time and space.
recognize.
it's all really happening.
the long way home, alongside my worthwhile wordsmiths
and wordsworthy weaponized longfellows.
fellowship, Folk Life, & Liberty.
that's what the F* is up.
today, buddy.
and every other 'nother other one, too;
never quiet, never soft.....

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