Friday, December 6

sandwich strong.

that's right!
sandwich week??
more like sandwich strong.
i'm just sayin', neighbors-
these homemade flatbread jauns?
with the cornmeal mixed in?
they're an awful lot like Wu-TANG.
y'know?
yeah.
...they're for the children.
of course,
since there aren't any kids around these days,
i'm not about to let 'em go to waste.
check the openface-type teleport:
oval strips of tempeh in that sizzling simmering sauce, suckas!
uh-huh.
brown action, with herbs and spices an' sh!t all over 'em.
and sesame-fried asparagus,
and sweet onions,
and skin-on cukes for the sake of the g-dang nutrients,
and the last aw-shoots from the peas, please.
plus some crushed red peppery flakes to take it to eleven?
yuuuuup.
friends,
i think i'm onto something here.
once the foldover gets activated,
and those two sides collide and unify,
it's a verifiably virtuoso viking victual victory inside my mouth.
that's a thing.
sandwich week has done it again.
duders,
we decide what we want to mean something.
we pick what matters.
sure,
it's just a weeklong feast of small breads with stuff in them,
but it's just the importance of the occasion for the ceremony.
it's ALL really happening,
so why shouldn't some of it be celebrated?
right?
yeah.
we rep what seems a strange style to some,
but we're all about it over here.
little things make big pictures full of tiny details.
that's the way it should be.
simple and easy concealing superfancy special effectiveness.
expertism doesn't accept short shrift or third shifts of weak sh!t-
believe it.
we do it live,
but we do it right....
you can go ahead and read some diapery baby bullcrap
straight out of your recipe book,
and we'll freestyle the loudest, freshest hardness instead.
it's just a sandwich,
but it's also the way we live our lives.
worthy warrior poetry, from meals to mettle-testing melee-
Folk Life & Liberty is what we want.
***********
y'know what, y'all?
it's raining.
a lot.
and that means early sleeps,
and pittered patters that put me out for the night.
mmhmmm.
i can't help it-
that steady splattering nonstop dripdrop lullabyes me
to n'night-land like nothing else.
i can't stand the rain, against my window,
bringing back sweet memories.
...unless i'm under ALL the covers.
then,
it can't get me,
and that makes me psyched enough to snooze forever.
wordimus prime,
i'm well rested and wide awake.
today is the day;
never quiet, never soft.....

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