on the fourth day of pizza.....

oh, MAN!
i loooooooove pizza.
that's the honest-to-goodness gospel,
according to the worthy woodsly word-is-bond
true stories being told truly by yours truly.
i mean it, neighbors....
me and pizza pie?
that's amore.
real talk.
and duders?
yeah.
you all already know all about it:
pizza week is so flippin' expert.
that's what's up.
toppings?
did you say you wished there were more toppings?
oh.
okay.
check the top-heavy-type teleport:

tippity-topped off with toppings,
for your hungry hungry hippopotamus mouth.
huh?
of course i'm gonna tell you about it.
calm down.
you start with another 'nother off-the-cuff crust,
this one customized with other other flour powers,
and then there's crushed tomatoes, salted,
with a splash of oregano and rosemary;
and red peppers, sauteed to soften 'em up;
and onions, from the night before, for old times' sake;
and radicchio, because fancy red leafy jauns are dope;
and spinach, since i'm strong 'til the finish;
and fresh basil, for your face,
to feel the hottness and savor the flavor and stuff like that.
yeah.
i needed a vegetable infusion, to activate a few more nutrients-
and that hit the spot.
hmmm?
oh,
well, yes,
definitely.
i obviously had pizza for lunch, too.
c'mon.
it's pizza week.
what am i?
an A*-hole?
check out the elite edible excellence i whipped up,
and rolled out,
and baked off for a midday snack.
teleport:

first-take daiya-stuffed crust, with minimal blowouts?
uh-huh.
beige bits of chicken-styled veggie protein?
yum.
broccoli?
green florets from the future!
stuffed crust goes to eleven, it seems.
and i went along for the trip.
i only brought back crumbs,
but if it's good enough for gretel, and hansel,
it's plenty adequate for a lost traveler on the road to pizza heaven.
wordimus prime.
***********
the wolf.
it's in there.
i guess it's more a non-specific candied candid canid battle beast,
than a dire dopplegangbangin' loco lobo.
y'know?
the point i'm making is-
i've got a post-full moon manic monster slowly returning back to
bard and beard and basic barbarian nature.
words and hair and fury i always carry with me,
it's the teeth and temper and tantrums that get all kinds of amped up
under the silvery threads of skylight at night.
mmmhmmmm.
i rep a hard style,
all checks and imbalances,
with a healthy dose of real real reality,
and fantastic Folk Life,
and imagination inculcation in F*ing full effect.
it's all really happening,
and instead of trying to make sense of it?
yeah.
i'm just making pizza.
nature always wins,
so join the victors,
and share the spoils.
me?
i'm spoiling my daughters with XI-mas magic,
and i'm spoiling my supper with ever more slices of 'za,
and i'm spoiling for a fight, with words, not weapons,
and all of it is better than anything else that could've been.
this is What Is,
and i'm grateful for every frigid, rigid minute of it;
never quiet, never soft.....