smoking is a discourse
setting aside the drinking
my jeckle my hyde
dominant and submissive

i run this old laptop
the young beauties
old refrain
her new huge screen
disc app...etc etc
she ran in top edge
readjusted and did alright

a genetic remake of her grand
impression
the love of her mother

and lately with the rush of advertisements
in north american broadband and cable
highways the pop ups are as an annoyance
like smoking.....
i have to boot out of neo and boot back in
always....

old hardware because im too cheap
to buy new.....
and i love something that belonged to someone
an essence perhaps..little nuances
like ghosts in the machine
the joy of something "spankers" is allright
but i love the artifacts
with knicks and skars
cant say youve lived if you havent
fallen and seen your stars...

i approach everything with lorem ipsum
in mind......walking in the woods we have
some venomous and some toxic things
all the title is is a filler......like a bite from
a reptile or the brush of a shiny plant
its all look alike front.....in this case its font
if it was an object with cyrilic writing or
german upper case.......i cannot go under
an assumption of what content is...

if i was total urban in the south cities
the graffitti and markings would tell
me what desirous area to walk
and where not too

so anyway.......

i run with dominant alpha people
across the levels..
i am sub to these
because
a: i am not as fully intellectually articulate
as these gifted are..
b: i do believe that scholastic performance
is an indicator of the ability to whole
performance although this is not a random
theory of evolution but a practical observation..

c: my work is with my voice....the articulation
factor...and the creative intelligence that i
acquired through a gift of a higher something...
ive seen brighter people fall from the higher
heights and the low slingers whom chose
their routes get blown of a corner...inertia and
density are an exact science sometimes
and speed is everything.

not that i cant rush.....not that i dont love speed
or daring or careless thrills...
i have my scars of which i love
the inside and the outside...

which brings me to the poem\\

reading all this does not tell anything of what its about

i love books that are a hard read.....writers that are wry
and humor laden...its the wit and irony and sarcasm
or the detailing and sagas.....

mine are all vague and sketchy
jumping from scene to scene
i suffer from attention deficiet disorder
dsylexia bi polar and other dark
needful entertainment

thus the stage..

they are theives
an earlier era
one has been struck
wounded with an instrument
and requires mending

the shirt is a value and is being
washed of the freshness of
interchange
repaired with a tailors touch
dripping perhaps by a fire
same soap to sterilze the craftspersons
hands and the alcohol
cheap static from any shop then
to cleanse basic instruments
of which at the time mere boiling
was thought to rid the majority
of pestilence..

a hundred years later an autoclave
for a full cycle is needed

but this story is a story at the turn
of the century...the gas lamps
the cheap natural gas machines
the domes in most cities and piped
like the watermains....coal fired
cooking appliances....
or fireplaces.....

there were more potent narcotics
then......cocaine in cola and labsynthe
the wormwood that gave hallucinogenic
affects
at the corner distrubition stores one can
under the counter ask for the modern
revived version of this for seventy five
dollars....its consumption entire can
bring about a similar affect

in the world there are those whom mere
not get nicked but gambling debts
lines crossed
the rules of the game are more direct
and those with dealt with such
pocket derringers
and gentlemens tools
carried in vest pockets
and ladies handbags were
the norm

the reading of this poem
could apply to autopsie
but no...

but i knew of many who
worked all trades..
their stories i weave
in my works
they did not write poetry
they are the poetry

this work is fiction as is all my
works unless noted

I do smoke too many cigarettes

I like the story of the brandy...
the glasses for illumination

i am trying to meet a kurio girl
at a hock shop..she works there..
good eye contact etc..
they have a large disco ball
for fifty six dollars
i like light wavelengths
i would buy something like this
and use it......

all that for this one little poem...
this is how i think
every
day...

i didnt get poets until i read some great autobiographies...
starting with the singers i liked..some alive some not..
then the poets....
what blew me away was a lot of the people who wrote
poetry come from very high educated and well optioned
people...before neo....and from the books i got to get about
in this poetry landscape of the heart mind and other...

and the very dirt poor poets just dug in and never quit
writing...or those that wrote and never published..post
life..their works got discovered and published..

i write because i was always writing
after high school...during all the women times
and non women times..jobs no jobs
etc.......

i read this site often
and comment where i can
and when

thank you

pretty much sums it all up...
Thank you emeka ozurumba!