Epigram ‘n Aphorism Samwiches

Wait Until Whatever Tomorrow

Wait Until Whatever Tomorrow

There’s a book, a book, a book
I say, I dawdle, procrastinate over.
Now there’s four of them, or five?
Accumulating as poetry popcorn,
as sardines smelling cloistered hell
where words jumble, tumble
out the brain’s mouth into parlor,
or squalor. How shall I serve them all?
Wait.
What am I doing this for?
This self-collaboration in internet,
inherit incognito innuendo
indefinitely interlopes ignorantly
indefinite, infinite, and infernally.

I started all this for a reason.

Seasons change as my mind
goes a-wandering after lolly leaves
into snooker snow piles s-sliding
down,
free-form 
spring-sprung, tousled tulips
serenading summer, seething-sensuous,
‘til tumbled, careless castoffs
over and over and over
mount mounds colorful, as I (should)
dive within. And, would you look?
A poem.

Do I really want to do this
again?
Wait until
tomorrow.


1.6.23

At this point, the gray matter pretty much doesn’t compel the machine anymore, but monkey that learned tasks by repetition until he couldn’t multi-task the Enguish langwage aneymore.

Haven’t completely lost…lost…lost… *looks around*

it
it was what I was going to…going to…goin…

Wrote in dark, without glasses, on tablet, no talk to text, as she snores and snorts bedside.

I won’t link/share in your newsfeed. Don’t worry.

NOTE: at this point, felt an imposition by those wanted me to impose, heard me, talked over, ignored, and I backed away. Sensed the ‘where is he going’. There’s no explaining to gaslighting narcissists who want your soul like stuff from your pockets, act disgusted when you’ve been shaken upside down by your ankles, expecting your lunch money, at least. They are the new bully, who points at me, if I speak up, not PC, take my rights, boot stomp, cry for all the other red-headed banshees to herd up, buffalo stance, expect me to yelp, try harder, go away. Knives, arrows, bullets at your back, wouldn’t you want to silently, unnoticed, slink away from the purveyors of sunshine and candy? 💩 sorry, that was supposed to end with a period. I had mine. Theirs is ongoing …………….. has it been that long?

Note add: 8.11.23 because I’m an idiot with my time. Nothing I write is preconceived, except for a notion, burgeoning words that sort and slot into sentences that seem worthy to further pursue, until cornered, no bombs to break me out of alphabet logjam.

Blah, blah, blah…fuck me, apparently. What are my sins? Can it be that bad?? Got in the way. Oh? A simple move, or play through with us would suffice. I’m on the ninth hole (beginning, middle, end, or restart…playing through a lightning storm with a reverend. And I was doing so good? Even the high and mighty can be full of themselves, but what am I? Not on the green.

Gawd, would I just shut up?! There wuz more alphabets piling up before the screen freeeezzz…