Atomically Getting Together OR Dogmatically Getting Mutts Madder

 

               I was floating along and I saw my friend, The Photon.  That Photon sure is Analog.  And he is a Photon, not in anyway a Proton.  He ain’t Pro Nothing.  An Astral Provider.  Arf Arf.  Here we are.  The Photon and The Dog.

               He may be Analog, but I thought he can’t be Digital!   This question ain’t Analog vs. Digital.  If I was musical there would be an Analog whose verses were Digital.

               I buried a bone.  But in burying it, am I doing Geology or Biology?  Whatever it is, I sure am against Lie All Oh Gee.  I just want you to Buy All, Mikie?   But not My Key!  Digital or Dig It All or Dog On It Al!

               I sure think you had been there and done that.  Or were you a Bean there who Dumped that?  No, you sure are a Bear there who is Dumb and Fat.

Just look outside.  It is a Hell of a Sunday.  There, at my church, I just ran into this guy who calls himself “The Jack of All Trades”  But he is just the Minister of Nuns.  It was good for the world that I ran into him.  Me and my Ford were just putting along.

               My buddy, Ralph, tried to scare me.  As I was getting rid of that guy, he pokes my shoulder and says, “Is that the Police I See?”

               I whispered, “It is just my Policy!”

               Ralph then declared, “Oh!  So, it is another Injust Policy!”

               That’s when I said, “So, Bullets in my shoulder make you happy.  That sure makes my work a bulleted in board.”

               Ralph replied, “Ich kan nicht verstehen because I cannot do anything but make ravens.  And although I can’t stop my cravings, there is onlyThose Kookoo dumbs who  Kookoo do.“

               Then I told Ralph, “I can’t go to the library for you.  My schedule is already booked.”

               Ralph then said, “Well, I can’t stab you right now with my sword.  My sched duel is also booked.  Maybe I could have you sword dead in tomorrow.”

               Being The Dog, I asked, “Ralph, that tomorrow.  Is that the day after today or the day of my after life?”

               Photon then broke in

               Both slinging and singing:

              

“My Ions lie under the stars

My Iron flies around the comet belt

My neutrons loose over that plasma bank

Oh, binge back

Binge back

Oh, binge back that Pulsar to me

To meteorites

Oh, hinge back

Sling back

Oh, sting back that laser on me.”

 

               Then I barked out, “Is there  metal all over this place?   Or is it just that there are mentals all over my face?  Am I now monumentally disgraced!”

               Ralph then asked, “Coffee?  Coffee!”

               The Photon asked Ralph, “Do you need something to wake you up?  Or are you such a Cow Ward that you call yourself Calf Find?”

               Ralph moos at The Photon, “What other kinds of fees are you charging me?  And is it those otters that are more kind than you are to me.  Ewe are.  Hue ark.   You are the Moo lark Key.  You just think you are a  Huge Tart.  Change that ‘t’ to an ‘f’.  And I don’t mean that you are ‘Tarf’.

               “My cane just fell.  I guess I will have to dwell.  You say cicada, I say cyanide.  You say invader.  I say, I just lied.  Cicada, Cyanide.  Invader, I just died.  Let’s cut my whole head off.

               “You know, if I were a tree I would be getting my energy from that sun up there.  But, if I were a meteor, some sun would be getting fed from me.  But it seems that you are a thinking being and you are being fed up by me.”

               Then Ralph went his way.  And his way was that he Pick Bucketed our Frenemies from Atlanta to the Specific.  And boy, that Vladimir sure think’s  he is strong.  But he is not strong.  He does not think.  He is just Wrong.  And he ain’t even or ever Just.

 

               He sang along his way:

 

                              “ Min

   Min

   Missing in no Action

   For Those Fat

   Water Rats

   Just look at that pool.”

 

And I told him, “ That’s where I sat.  I sat there and now it is sure saturated.  It’s where I sat my ant bunch.  Sit, Sit, Why did I Sit?  Well, first you sat.  Then I sat.  I did that because It was my Sat Turn.”

              

Ralph then sung on:

 

              "Dig Dig Dig right into it

Dig Dig Dig it till you make it a Digit

Some Might Dig It Less

Without their Might they  Must Confess

That’s when you’ll see a pumpkin by some neighbor’s backdoor gate

And it’s going to make him late

That’s while he dodges another Dog Ache!”

 

Ooh! Ooh!  Brass Nucleus.

All Right, it’s just another electron pulse about that Accountant who needed a crane to filament  into his Solar Truck, and for lurch dives through those Mitch McConnells.  Getting their uncoupled Brass Cracks.  Using  astro flies, and a baryonic which skives to its nearby potent flake’s which are sparking  to that canceled time zone, the “Grade School Girls of Sonar Comets.”

My Photon Friend butted in:

 

               “When is your health not for your own good?  Religion?  Politics?

The planet of the Bests

Best Blondes

Best Brunettes

Best Wit People

Best Bosses

Best Politicians

Best Sons

Best Brothers?????”

 

               Four cosmic rays then exploded themselves on me, The Dog.  The one in the grass keeps going towards that tree stump.  She knows where she wants to go.  Nothing will stop her!

 

But Dogs out on those ancient civilizations found in the originated magnetospheres.  How about the Caves in Enceladus and Europa. Theirs recovers disappearances, and they can’t find any cosmos pulsars now.

It is just the Comets and the Meteors including those Meteorite Motion Detectors.  This is just a metal rock’s story.  See Them?  A miniature, “These two humans are driving me Kuiper.  They keep coming in here and pulling me into their magnetic worlds.  I got to show them what’s orbiting by pooping in my profound fascination.   Disc and ranging in my composition of my deep carbon.  It is more than an Atom.  It is more than a Chemical.  A Chemical Nation.  A Halo.  A Halo Sea Nation.

I got propulsed into some neighboring asteroids.  And they keep turning water and organic compounds into critical life.   So, the nucleus with its frozen gases got excited ions and chemical constituents.   I just told it, “Get some exersize by straightening up the shavings and putting the Ceres in place.  Boy those 30 to 55 times the distance from the Earth to the Sun  are hard to reach.  And that sure is Exersize because it makes you a Galaxy Bigger.  No Exercise could do that.”

               In the back of those comets, my rock, Osirisly, placed its Arrokothicallies out of my way.  He knew that my blands were full.  I was told to distance three other things. So, I will do this Aerospace Exploration  later, when I get the chance, and I will continue solar-powered imagery this afternoon.

 

               Three years later, covered with gloves and a hat and forgotten interest.  I finally began learning.  And now I’ve dispatched a lander to the surface.  And that surface is dust.

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I Claimed That My Life Was Sew Riveting but It Was Just Pivoting

 

               I am a recycled consommé.  You may consume me more as I flow through the cycle, sickle, heckle, something anyway.  And I am a man, so I flow, I am not Flo, but I am on the Floor a lot.

               That energy hitting my skin encourages my walking and looking.  But it does not encourage people to look at me.  To see you I must use the peep hole. 

               Energy elates.  No wonder I am so late.  The flushings along the shore called me a Latte.  I heard it over and over again.  It must have been a call drone or a caldron.

               Ions give me strength.  When the sun goes down it becomes my Ion Night.  I would say “Good Night”  but I was turned into a Wood Knight.  It happened because I thought that the Star asked me “Wouldn’t You?”  But, in my reality, it was the stares, not on the stairs, and he said that I was a “Wooden Shoe.”  You people are always shocking me, or at least mocking me.

               A collected muck of Ions and Protons bunched up beside of me.  That was the UP Press.  The Hydrogen Angle called himself “Your Hydrogen Angel.”  Then he welcomed me to this Commute entity.  I thought to myself, “If he Commutes and she Commutes, they must be a bunch of Commutists or at least Communists.”  Such a Community of Con Mutes.  I sure wish more of them were Mute.

               I always try to use my phone, even though I have no friends to call.  That stalactite that formed for that Hydrogen Angel just kept foaming at me.  That was while he connected with those Axises of Electrons that were swirling around him.  He’s lucky.  I always got a bunch of Axes swirling around me.

               Suddenly a Robot became as good as a Pig to the Lying Man.  Well, I admit that I Lie, which is a Lie in itself, so they began calling me an Alien.  And my Comets sure are Suited. As my Comments ain’t  very Sweetened.  I don’t know if it suites you, but if I saw a Girl in a Purple Suit, I sure would Purse Suite her right into my Suite.

               I think I’ll just swamp here until the End.     And that is my End, not Yours.  Not even Years.  Since My End is on an Not Even Year, it must be 1913.

               And that was when I heard him proclaim, “Human!  I Tear!  Run!”  So, I just Bull Frogged along.  I don’t get very much afraid anymore.  I am more of a Freight.  What comes out of their mouths are just a bunch of flies and fleas so you don’t see me flee or even my fleece.

               “Tell me!  Don’t Sell Me!”  I said that, because I know I am Cell Meat.  I must be in Cell Meat Ala Bismo.  I’d just looked at those clouds in the skies instead of You Clowns In Disguise.

               Oh, just give Peking back to the Pekingese.  I’d rather have Peking Geese instead of Peking Duck.  After all, I’m just a Spinster Man, a Spinster Man.  I eat my lunch from a Garbage Can.  Minister, we sure could use a Ban on J. Edgar Hoover again.

               And you thought I had taken off after that Bride of Frankenstein.  Well, well.  Your friend asked you, “The Kikes!  Are the Kikes ready? “  You sold him about me, “He wants the Kikes!”  Then he told the rest of yous guys, “Now off with the Kikes.”

               Which caused me to just tell them “Ich bein ein autor.  Ich bein ein Geologist.  Ich bein ein Computer Proggrammer.”

               I thought I was in a Tabernacle, but I really was at my usual place in the Tavernankle.  I thought you were in the Tavern’s Ankle Quieter.  I also thought we were not in New York.  To me it looked and felt like Old York.  Whatever it is, it’s all a bunch of Work.  Yorks sure terrorist er.

               Did you know that the Adriatic and Half Day roads were named in honor of two  Potosmokinglee Fast-food Chefs?  Adriatic or Aromatic.  Half Day or Full Of Hay.  Hay!  Hay! Hay!  They’ve been saving drivers in Northern Illinois from dining out over about a 5 year period.  Once they were tasted, people wanted no more.  When those rumbling stomachs came back, they weren’t hacked.  They are just slacked.  And that is thanks to the way those Invertebrates help.  Invertebrates or Inverted Brats?  They are just people who were kicked out of the dining room and then put on a reverse faction.

               That’s when I found myself  at a total loss.  My life is out of my control.  First, I thought I was walking down the block.    Then my senses found I was drifting in space with a bunch of Aggies and Piglets who were demanding my exhaled carbon.  That was when one started singing:

 

Der Hann ist tot

Der Hann ist tot

 

And I thought he sung:

 

Your hand is tote

Your hand just wrote

 

To which I replied:

 

Ich kan nicht verstehen

Koko dee Koko da

 

Which to me interpreted as:

 

I cannot be staying

Kookoo bee Go All Blah

 

And then all went dead.  I just could not understand.  Is all of this my bible bubble or is it just your bile babble?   Constantly, Humble Bumble, every boot you shake, it’s my life’s mistake.  What we see is my motivation is to vote for the rich guy instead of for the Nation.  I know we are still earplugging because he is that Lord claiming to be a Blister:

 

Two Girls (Uvanka and Moneyalina):

Who say Nicht if he is not with me and my sister

And when we get gored by that blister

Who says nyet if we don’t say he’s such a man

 

And we really mean that he sucks at being a man

 

               Just remember my fallowing boot is really not.  And it is not a knot.  It ain’t even on a cot.  It is never too late.  By now you should know that my fallowing boot is always in the toilet.  You inspirited me with that one.  You know that after I am dead and gone you can find me in the john.

               Let’s just Celebrate Moth Head’s Day.

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Manager Or My Anger

 

               Okay!  I’m just a guy!  And to me, I am a Just Guy!  And although I do not own the store, where I work at, I am a Man so I call myself The Manager.  I sure wish I could manage more!  Before this, I applied at several places.  And that was ‘Applied’ and not ‘My Application Lied.’ 

               I interviewed at several Nationals.  (I don’t even remember which Nations.)  Then there was Jewel.  (Whoever buys at that store sure has to pay the price of Jewelry.)  While I was in the midst of things, I also got into the mist of things by applying with these missed awful things, and that was such as  Osco.  (Us go here.  Us go there.  Us go Us go Everywhere.)  There also was a Ben Franklin.  (There I must have Been Frank with that Clerk, I mean Jerk,  too long.)  I even tried Walmart.  (Everyone there acts like they are Up Against the Wallet you Redneck Mother.)

               So, or Sow, finally I got accepted at Bill Grins.  You remember their commercials: “Bills Don’t Annoy!  Bills Ain’t That Big!  Oh Boy!  Oh Boy!  It Sure Is A Joy!”

               I was interviewed  by Amber Chandies.  She was the local franchisee of this Bill Grins.  Even though I now think I manage the store, and I interview potential employees (and boy, some of them sure are potent all)  I have to go through the store’s state office to get the one’s hired paid.  The girl at the office I call is Miss DearPayChecks.  Her office is in PayTilVain Iowa.  She never answers her phone.  I always have to leave a recorded message.  When I call, her the device goes, “Miss DearPayChecks!  Oh we pay full.  From Fee to Binding Fee…”

               A customer came up to me the other day and said, “I’m told you are the Manager.  You must one of the least King Bongs!”

               I said, “One of my staff told me that  they leased you two Sing Songs!”

               He complained, “Why must you keep trying to get along wrong?”

               I answered, “I do what I need.  You’re the one that keeps prying with your alcohol and your bong!”

               He shouted and left, “You are always swinging that wrong gong!”

               I then said to the staff member following me, “King Bong! I wish I were in Hong Kong.

Then I would claim I’m King Kong.”

               And he agreed with me, “That guy sure smelled wrong.  And he always spells wrong.  Couldn’t he see how his ions swell wrong?”

               I said what I felt, “ Lord deck that fister who threatened me like he was Sonny Lister.”

               My staffer then said, “We’re sure bored regarding those twisters, who keep trying to prove we are so damned.”

               I told him, “The next time one of them comes along I’ve got to  start getting my fist ready to keep hitting them.  When they’re a burden, they should disband.  When they come in a bunch, I should make them my lunch.  I’ll just tell them to shush.  Then they’ll  go to the bush.  Some might claim they are ahead of my rivals.  But they  are just trying to behead my survivals.”

               My salesman then told me he had to get back on the floor.  To give me a goodbye he said, “May the long horned be with you.”

               To which I replied, “And also with gnus.”

 

               As he rounded up another customer, that got me to thinking:

 

                              “Road skulls for field trips

We

We

The number of we is so small  that there is only me

May this fist first hit you

And slam all of you.”

 

               At that moment the business owner had us play a recording over the speakers:

 

                              “But my snore will never sleep

 Unless I see you with something to pay.

 My snore is your snort. 

 In court. 

 Police Escort. 

 And you bums should try to buy a bunch those albums that I say are worth. 

 This will be harnessed

 And this is not in jest.

 Why not Just Buy Our Lead?”

 

               I wondered, “Am I in Rigor Mortis or does everyone here just have Pig Gourmet Toes?  That sure sounded like a real Rasp Song, not what the owner thinks is a Rap Song.  I just have to keep telling the customers to ‘Don’t forget that the door hit you in the butt or bulbs or whatevers and think of  this as a bus door so when it hits you imagine that you are Bus Door Kicked On.’”

               I sure would like to quicken  things up with Belt Conveyors.  Or, at least, combines and balers.

               But when I tried the salesman, Germanal Workhater, yelled, “I can do zat! I can do zat!”

               And I said, “Germanal Workhater, I’m sorry.  You must think you are a Captain.  Or maybe the Chaplain.  I never met a god before.”

Germanal Workhater smirked, “Perhaps you have heard of the Russian alcohol, Vodka?  If the liquid’s liqueur, drink it!”

Then another customer broke in, “Look at these coupons I brought with me.  10% off steak and ribs.  15% off chicken.  Then finally, 20% off my whole order.  And what do I get?  Chicken, instead of 6 ounces        for $5.99 I only get 5.1 ounce.  And I like Steak.  But, I pay for               12 ounces, $13.99.  What do I get?  10.8 ounces.  This $157.00 for a bag of groceries.  In it there is only half the eggs.  No bologna!   White bread instead of rye.   And water instead of soda!”

That’s when I realized that I have my own beliefs.  It must be that I am an United Masochist.  While I was trimming plants, I decided that I like my methods.  We can call ourselves United Mentalists.  No Honey!  That can’t Bee!  Well, when I have you trim a tree, you might eventually will realize you can trim a tomato plant this same way.  So, then oh, you’ll start trimming your other plants that way.  Then you’ll think you don’t need to work for me since you can grow your own food!  Stories with solutions, Help!  Instead, it is stories in solutions, in water!

For years this store had been selling all types of employees at Bach Rotten prices.  Since then, we have began renting contractors instead of selling them.  And now we are making bunch out of that.  Recently I also started selling a flag so you can claim, “Weep the People.”  And another couple banners I got have “We’ll fight if you stand!” and “I’ll shoot till you fall!”

              

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My Star Warts Fade Into The Shed At Night

 

Will you Wake Up and Smell the Coffee.  Or at least Wake Up and Cough from Smelling Me!

 

Being Male or Female may not mean anything to a person from another planet.  Anyone can be counting on everyone.  And if they are, just admit that it does not hurt to pray for a person more than once.  And that is pray for a person, not prey on a person.  Look at that guy over there!  He claims he won him a million.  But there’s a ton in his rat trap instead.  Is he failing?  Maybe he’s flaming.  No, he’s a Filet Mignon.  Or was that a Filthy Minion?  I see he’s lost a faulty million. And he bought it in a rat trap instead.

Back on the toilet again.  That’s where your poop’s coming out your end.  And your urine floods look ruined.  Because you don’t smell like perfume.  Just get back on that toilet again.

Get off your heroin.  You’ve got to let that hero win.  That hero called the Chicken Man.  He sure is:

Unpredicated

Prepredicated

Unprestidigitated

Unprecistant

Unpreserary

Unrepresentated

Uncresentdented

Unresented

 

I know that you stated that I still act sick.  But please note your hatred was written by our fool president 45.

Is politics Religion or Region or another Raygun?

The wind feels good on my arms.  The sun assists this wind with the feelings given to me on my arms.  The air smells good.  There are animals here.  Not just ants.  Not just flies.  Bees . Spiders.  Squirrels.  And Robins.

Robins, how about People?

Some People sure are animals.  Some eat what I provide.  Some eat what I don’t.  Some sure eat meat.  I’d bet some would eat me.  Some should also eat wood.  That must be how I got this ache.  ‘Ache You.’ 

And I’ll answer ‘Cousin Tike.’

You did know that water has cells in it.  Water as in a Well.  Well, my blood has cells in it.  Me and my neighbors are in a cell.  And there always is somebody who is also trying to cell me stuff.  Sell my stuff.  Sell me bluffed.  And calling me stuffed.  They claim that I buy it.  But I am just trying to get by.

My life sure is not at ease.  My life is just another disease.

Welcome to my home.  This is where my buffalo thinks is Rome.  That is because his beer and his cantaloupe are plagued.  He’s where so soon it is heard that I disgusted his whole herd.  And their minds get so spouted each day.  Our home of the deranged.  Where my rear plays that tuba all day.  Oh, those flies come quite near, and are creating my fear, since the price of my life is discounted all the way.

Didn’t you know that Bees are Queened by a Female.  I think all worm slaves are also Females.  Even though science fools us into thinking that one side of the worm is Male so the other side must be Female.  That means that few males are allowed to make any females for that queen.  Ants are similarly Female.  That makes me ask, ‘How are other insects with the sex of their companions???’  Beetles?  Cockroaches?  Praying Mantises?  Praying Mantises!  They mate and then the Female eats the head off of that Male.  They are really called ‘Preying Man Dies Sniff.

We keep going from day to day.  From land to water.  From what we know to what ever.  What has happened to life?  Train part bulge up in those thrown pile.  Some parts grab others and the forces of artificial intelligence artificially form all these communities.  The Bodies and Bowls and Bowels become our species of life.

What happens when my wife is dead!  Or maybe I am dead?  Who will pull the plug on the one who is alive?

Three times I mentioned boots.  I was totally cemented up past my ankles.  Was that an Arc or an Ark?  Some string threw me such a strong thought.

I guess I read Kafka because I read Sinclair Lewis when I was ten years old.

But there I am, In My Car.  In The Store.  Watching TV.  With My grandkids.  And what do we see? Defend, fender bend, offend, mend, send, tend, send, trend, lend, rend.  Or is that a car, a bar, so  far, such a star, who is charred, life is jarred, I’m sure marred, living in tar.   I’m not late. I’m in a Lake.  Blake, cake, wake, rake, stake, take, fake, make, quake, sake, brake.  So how can I live.  I want to be alive, strive, drive, hive, dive, five.  With a wife.  So, I just got to hop, shop, bop, crop, chop, mop, pop, slop.  Instead of my cart, fart, dart, heart, mart, part.  But, again, those children, intend, pretend and of course offend.

Some people claim that they are religious and they state that you should not celebrate your birthday.  They quote Ecclesiastes 7:1 “the day of death is better than the day of one’s birth.”  I feel there are many ways to interpret that quotation.  An important one to me is it does not tell me or anyone not to celebrate your birthday.  If a dollar is more important than a quarter, does that mean that I would end up fine if I threw away all my quarters?  And how can the day of your death be more important than the day of your birth?  If the day of your death is important, don’t you see that you could not have the day of your death if you did not have the day of your birth.  Your birth is needed for you to die.

 

It is the date to better yourself:

 

May my Fist now hit you.

 

May that Second May kiss you, and make you drool.  .

 

May this Herd live with yous, and poop around you two.

 

May the Force be with you, and R2D2.

 

May this Fifth be drunk by you, and make you miss the street too.

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