Mold growing on mold
What a souvenir
I light a Marlboro Red and pretend to disappear into the seams of late show talk
On the screen, puppets for complacency dance…ever so near
I could fluff the pillow to a higher state
However comfortable, I could also, puncture what it is…
I stand for
in and out
out and about of this,
A catatonic, petrified
be safe…leave no trace
Bare ass, I lay down to stay up late
Searching the cushions for loose change to purchase an empty plate
Hate has no home here!
Can We live without the Death Penalty?
Are none of us as…we appear?
From country meadow to north country butchers…who dare not sleep…to urban sheep.
I could place argyle socks over history…
I cannot disguise my cruel feet.
When I pigtail my banner…’does all good intention freckle my deceit?’
Do not answer me, the signature will hurt.
For me to petition diversity…rancor must have no common ground.
Do not advise me to…not Act Up.
To do so would hurt.
Every good intention…a twilight to conventional curse.
Blame for the blameless, one could suppose
cats in trees
fish in a barrel
akin to ‘train-wreck’ dogs.
Descendants of, ‘I am sorry.’
Boulevards of attrition.
Dare I cross the alley?
Tripping over fault lines, should I make a fair-haired decision
What of these…
fruitless linear revisions…
two squirrels for one dove
a common bird for a cardinal’s love
Comeliness beholds beauty in a rainbow’s spectrum
Essence travels on in its constitution.
I believed in what was said
Thou I wished I accepted less of everything
This book of gospel seeping into rabbit holes
Trifle left accept gritty, grains of falsehood
Reeling from inclement pavement
Reeling from obedient hearsay
My becoming, a clay footprint, fragile, breakable when placed upon such an erroneous display
My first impression out…
A caged animal sedated nonetheless alert
casting the shackles away
to which I held the original key…to what women say
Can humor go too far? Is a ‘good’ joke wasted on a particular few? Those few who seem to have missed ‘punchlines’…when god was handing them out.
Personally, I love a good slapstick. And, my wife? A good (I use the term loosely) rom-com, is her shtick.
I discovered …Vet Tv
…as soon as the project got off the ground, critics honed in on what some called tasteless or downright toxic humor, raising questions about how best to reintegrate America’s ever-growing population of military veterans back into society. Are rape jokes and other gross gags crossing the boundaries of respectability really doing any good if they’re increasingly out of touch with the mainstream comedy? What kind of obligation does a network targeted at a narrow chunk of the population really have? And how much of content on the network is actually resonating with the country’s relatively diverse veteran population?
However, a long ago era, just before my time: offering not only ‘Cinnamon Girl’ by Neil Young but…the one and only Lenny Bruce! There had been the same heated debate about comedy going to far!
I believe, as many do, in this #45 era, all that can be done is laugh. Laughter combats the anger, the confusion. It makes us all feel human again. Does it really where the humor comes from? As long as it helps us take life less seriously.