Everything, Three

the great

Monkeys, chips,
other problems of the back
Powerlifters be advised, be careful.

Curbing significance is a futile effort.
Finding the sweetspot in a bag of sugar
is some incredible feat of humility.

Gotta keep that pimp hand frail.
Gotta keep oneself
from masterbaiting to oneself,
from time to time.



“99 yards without the touchdown”
(for eating my cake without icing)
because I have the smaller iphone,
is precisely why it is depressing.

poetry trap

If I could clear my chest
or speak my mind at once,
short of explaining
examples of microcosms,
I would do it every time.


somebody stop them

Thoughts In a Mask
Guage of my thoughts
Old phases,
jumping to reactions
Pulling responses
out of a hat.

one more thing

Sometimes the foolish aren’t.



Boom Roasted, Three

You’re in detention, that’s where I put you
No more talking for the rest of the day, okay
Mr Luke is pissed off, my little morning stars.

You’re a child singing a song that never ends
without ever knowing the mission is impossible
You’re a talented musician, hence the triangle
I love your ideas, it is why we raise hands
Let us all play a game, call it hide-and-go-sleep
And for the record, I can beat up your dads.

Who eats more anyway, you or the vacuum?
Good call on washing your hands, there
then immediately picking your nose
and blowing your hands, then touching me.
How is it like living one-hundred straight days
on capri suns, mini crunch and spaghettios?

You got the penmanship of a seismograph,
need that pencil box like I need a tampon bag,
couldn’t draw between lines to save your life
You’re vaccinated for cooties, suspended for lice

Congrats, you’re advanced, in taking naps,
can eat ants-on-a-log, loop swoop and pull
and now, a master of safety scissors,
can cut and mislabel three different shapes.



2 thoughts on “Everything, Three

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