Thanksgivinnnn’

When we all retract from our rooms and unplug our souls from machines
Ya’ll know that it’s Thanks-givinnnn’
When unregistered footsteps boom and conquer the house
Ya’ll know that it’s Thanks-givinnnn’.



When we slither down the hallways and
Strap ourselves in tightchairs
And the fake smiles plack themselves
Upon our lips
And they whip out and crank up the
Conversation machine
Ya’ll know that it’s Thanks-givinnnn’.

C a t

They’s cats
They’s fats
They’s makes me relax



They’s cats.

Twirling Through the Streets with Fervor

Twirling through the streets with fervor,
Passion parading through each vein,
Every sound, and smell, and sense, and urge
Balletting off the blacktop without a hint of upsurge



Fears riddling, unstabling, capsizing, depressing
Under the weight of its beating wings.



Boom, BOOM
BOOM, boom,
Each drumbeat of life sighing up in beauteous bloom
Each waning moon’s tune punctuated by a thunderclap of elation,
Every toe a cog spinning within the gear of temptation,
Such defiance of law spurring my true inner zen: a happy, happy unrest.

Boom, BOOM BOOM, boom, So unrealized, so used to being dead and curled up inside But with a soft side, beckoned by that caramel soft light It unfurls and erupts into life.



Everything is as it should be in my universe,
Everything is where it ought to in the multiverse



Just keep those eyes clipped so blissfully tight
and maybe it’ll
last, maybe, i just wish
It would drag on just a little bit longer before, slurp, before i am



whisked back
into the chamber



before i
cough
fall down from the d rea m
a n d ev e rt . . .



be fo r e t h e
c   r     o    i    n
  o    r    s   o



e a t s    i n t o
m y



m i n  d .

Peanut Butter Yodel (sing in Texan accent)

Warm and crispy, to the tongue
Wraps yo tongue up in a bundle of fun
Spiralin’ goop flowin’ down from the sun
Ain’t that right my hun (ain’t that right my hun?)



Feels like a mailbox with too much love a-clutter
A nostalgic taste like a polaroid camera on shutter
Makes yo world turn sepia in a single gutter
It’s that good ol’, reliable peanut butter…



Drizzlin’
d
o
w
n
from
a plastic
case,
made to
vase
a truly
euphoric
taste



But how can so much jooooooy be contained????



I ask myself
that question
every single day
But I mean,
what else is there to truly say?
It’s that good ol’
reliable
jelly amicable
peanut butterrrrrr.



Warm and crispy, to the tongue
Wraps yo tongue up in a bundle of fun
Spiralin’ goop flowin’ down from the sun
Ain’t that right
My hun (dun dunnnnn’!)

Salutations, Dear Kin Apostle 'Yawn Sardonic!' *yaaaaaaawn.* I understand that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot. *shifts foot* So, let's go ahead and yannk that evidently incorrect foot off the floor and shatter the perpendicularly adjacent foot through space and in the right direction; not north-east, or south-west, no; south-north! As my grandfather carefully discharged into my earhole those many blue years ago, 'can't trade a penny for a dime, nor a peeny for a 'jine.' And that, my friend, that very picosecond he excreted those words unto my knowledge receptor, I swiftly but lovingly locked those words of advice into the vapid, hearty floor of my beating right ventricle! Fast forward to today, and those words still beat quite frubulantly!; beating again and again and four times beyond from my aorta outward, flowing through my meat-body and injecting wisdom-smarties into my bloodstream!