Bd3ftH&rsing.

How to
write poetry
and
not
get caught.

A poem.

How to lie; still, and nobody's looking.

Dennis Christopher and Dennis Quaid starred in the cycling movie Breaking Away.
Kevin Costner and Kevin Bacon starred in the cycling movie American Flyers.

Coincidence? I think not.

Especially considering Kevin Bacon, it seems he's separated himself from this one.

But, ho-ho. David Christopher is the missing man in question. Two first names, can we trust him?

If it rhymes, it's fine.

David Christopher, you're history.

Bottom 20, universal best David contest.

The Horo. The Horo.

I'm not a spiritual person. I'm not a superstitious person. I don't even believe in luck, except as a way to describe a series of positive events. The horoscope, isn't based on anything. Chinese year of the tiger, Greek astrological sign Aquarius; I don't care. But I do believe in birthdays. January, it's August and July when I feel like a stranger in a strange land. Heat wipes me out. My steely eyed, cold weather plodding is stifled by the waves of sun. Skin bubbles at the thought of all day stuff. I get sick every summer, to kick it off. All winter though, oxen like energy, voracity. Well shit, can it be matched by anyone. But all these damn January births are like islands in a sea, and like Pangaea we're not getting any closer.

Besos\d+1

expensive cunt
i.e congress
stand alone
fuck up all our share of this doom bringing the damning green smell rusted with dullness brown
without birds metaphoric forever pieced jabwise of found infinite false uplift,
still perhaps,
shit could go, baseless like your mind
do unbias the text of the spine,
only if she's deconstructing
these
hits.

Tesu/b-0

Expansive Curt
W/o context
can both
suck up all the air in the room leaving a looming gray taste dull with sharpness black with wings metaphoric with aplomb bob to find absolute true down,
but maybe
it should be based on appearances
don't judge a book by it's trope,
unless you're building
that
shit.

Earthflight.

When we leave Earth
Everyone will feel the way

I feel nervous, alone, cold, alienated
But we don't really need to leave Earth

To feel connected in that way.

Cold at the Core, Conglomerate Shit.

The moon is arguably the least hospitable place on Earth.
If you get hurt, there are no hospitals.

Despicable.

Pure Lunacy,
unless they discover a need for no atmosphere,
micro-gravity will never
catch on.

Candy.

Ah, gobstoppers.
I've lost the will to push pedal
metal
rubber
1 speed,
5 hills,
4 miles,
30 minutes.

It's good
car exercise.

That excuse'll do.

Priapism of Metaphor

One of the greatest lies I've ever told is that I am the author of "The Gadfly," written in 1897.

A Poem written in line.

Morning Rep.

Hiding its shame,
the sun undressed,
a morning unprepared,
brother a bother overcast.

Rainsly Lewis

Condescending water flight,
I could of done better
and
I'm only 70 %.

Spa che'

The earth is a terrible place to lay your eggs,
space chicken.
Far too watery;
you ain't no water foul.

He Stun

Compact florescent suns won't get as hot, will cost 4 times as much and if you break one you have to air out the planet for a few days; ozone hole, thank you very much.

Prodigal.

The sun is for idiots. /

Just 'gonna burn itself out.

/ 500 billion year lifespan.

Shit, I could do better.

/ Wish you were a blue giant.

_-__----

Blue Monday, Prodigy Son.

His father was an early 80's Bombshell.

Youth Suffragist

People don't believe me when I say I'm a Youth Suffragist. But for serious, I remember being in fourth grade and thinking, "Hey, this is bullshit, I should be able to vote." Wasn't I warranted in thinking that? I mean I was forced to go to school all day, I think I should have a say in that.

Then there's Warshington DC. No taxation without representation. Well if that were true then I still wouldn't have a vote. Income tax? I'm on the poverty line with two degrees. No voting for the poor and unemployed.

So it's like, let the childers vote. I promised 8 year old me that I'd feel that way, and that's one dude I can't lie to.

Handsomely Done.

Mugs,
Grizzled and Cut
From Steel
And Brass.
Iron filings,
Peppered Soul
Lording Precosious
Puberty Silently Comes,
But Years of Wonkyness
Feel Forever Milked.