not so fast

when truly mellow i even typer sloweder
which ain't not really such a bad ideal
neither cranked up on wearying
nor drunkarded-in on re-sentiment's harshening sedimentary layerings and layovers and carryovers
no need for the citadel

not that i'm out htere or anything

in the groups i go to
with all our plethora of myriad fears falsehoodwinking us about the delusions of boozins and the freedom of weed-'em
we remain abstient, sometimes by having our braindset reamed out by our guides, thank 'em
it's not that i am really any different than others
it is just that i've always FELT distince and so just commonplace stuff like
I don't like myself today
or
I wish my cow-orkers weren't so mindlessly mechanically unloving unbekindling
seems like really 'sposing my innards, y'see

how fake can you be? well, how real dare I?

WEll, I could be just authentic enough to irk folks
or just fake enough to get them to accept me
just courageous enough to get voted out of the club
just cowardly enough to have them say Her? She's alright, I guess, not much to her,though, actually

syncopate?Si. Inventorate? No

it seems
as an alkie,that is
i, or may i assert we?
cannot independently
presented with any format of tabla rasa
create in-and-of-itself.
but
moreso
nevertheless
when granted a drole drudgery to bee-bop and syncopate about
ach! tis then we doth shine...
prollem seems to be
being expertise at overdoing dullard's folly(ala the peterkin principia)
seems to assure that
no
thing
of
value-laden
worth
from
bedlam(past)
wilt henceforward
flowerflow

in feral fretters fear held twas I

In feral Fretters Fear Held twas I
the old stuff was from untrustworthy cohorts
drinking the sauce of poisonings and thinking it was 'deluxury' morosely being our own lynchpin of unhealing a decade of decay folowed and blacked the clouds of our mindscape, cavern assuredly. we drank in darkness, 'most like early gays but straight as we was, the healing was no feeding. we were booted out of sordid assorted sundry sundae bars,relentlsly complainering and grumbling "Just for yelling out: Let's all get drunk and dance dirty?" poelple thought of me as a tautology: utter bum boar.
on the avenue of abuse, where the parochial beaters dressed in perpetual mourning, the sole release was matriculation. plus there were always the Evangeline and stories of El Cid v. the moors. And still my soul marched ploddingly, well unfed. Someone in awe told me: You're missing on first contact, tis with soul to self recirculates. someone told me my art truly sucked and so I beliefed him, right as he might have dustbin. I couldn't see how the rest of them couldn't understand, when I went back to 'carry the word', how much sobriety rocked over drunken notoriety, but they didn't amidst the din of the crashing glasses, the broken faux paws, and the blim blim blim of the daquiri blinder.Plus they really 'dug' the linedancing and the tragic sense of existence somehow truly grooved their corpus delectum

remimbering and unforgettering, the intutitive path to solverizing stuff that hte mindbrain ain't brawnynuffore

a sweet messager and the dustdevils of vacuum land done eatered your poemsong
to me
and the winders did unwindowfy
and we said
ah,that's what the yogurt instructor meant in her sublime evensong
y'know?

FERAFULNESSNEASAWAYOFDEATH

THIS BEING FEARFUL IS JUST SUCH UNDOUBLEGOODNESS