That Election, is it Coming Up or will it be a Comedy Flup

 

Flop Flop

Hiss Hiss

Oh!  That was a Vampire that Bit

 

               A political supporter came up to me and asked, “Did you know that my name is Eric Henderson?”  I looked back at him and said, “No!  It is Air Wreck Hinders Some!  Are you saying ‘Vote For Me!’?”

               Then he complained and said, “You’re another one of those many people that act like they listen to me, and you keep claiming things like I said, ‘Marijuana is my medicine.’  But what I always say is, ‘Marijuana is me Medi Sin.’  And you try to claim I am admitting that . ‘Marijuana is my MediEvil Sin.’  Why don’t you just take that with my politician’s  pints and smoke em?”

               I said, “Your politician sure is my Quartzilla.  Because Quartz is my God.  And your group are really a Silly Cone.”

               He then said, “Why don’t you Join Me? Give me the Money!  You can be, like me, ‘Mr. MAGOO’!”

               I said, “I am tired of you people who ‘Make Americans Grunts Over and Over again.’”

               He told me, “My Presidential candidate wants, not was,  a Draft Digital.”

               I asked him, “He is a Daft Dogger, along with his phony doctor’s excuse about bone spurs.  Doesn’t he constantly want to get Reimagined, but in reality, to him he is just  Reimaged?”

               He told me, “But the loveliest of his call was his Uncle’s Porn.”

               And I said, “That old guy’s life died several weeks ago.”

               I continued, “When you tapped me on the back, you!  It was like you saying, ‘This is a garage sale.’

But we all can see it is a Garbage Sale!”

               He commandingly sung to me, “When you fly to that five pointed dark star,

                             Don’t block the Universe

                                                                         Don’t block the Universe

                                                                         When you overflow as I’ve told before

                                                                            Don’t flock to leftists first.”

 

               That made me say, “What about your health?  Mental and otherwise.  And you sure are not wise!

       That comet

                                                   That spin

                                                   That 23 of May

                                                   Since your temp is that high

                                                   You should wait until it’s the Trombones in the Big Parade.”

 

               He then told me, “I want to quote, about you, from Star Warts, ‘Fluke!  Eye Jam You Farter!’”

              

That just made me sing

 

                                        “DJT

             Go Away

             Go Away

 

              DJT

              We have to pay

              We have to pay

 

              DJT

              You’re such a Gump

              You treat us as we are chumps

              You’re such a big Rump

              And you’re convicted for felonies you Trump.”

 

It sure makes me Think about:

 

               I hate it that things go this way

              They are taking our democracy away

 

               November’s a great big Democracy Crash

               Putin keeps paying out all kinds of cash

               The Supreme Court is deranging

               With this and things keep changing

               As my head keeps getting bashed for this election day

 

               They are trying to throw my voting rights away

 

               While that GOP keeps telling us their lies

                And they treat us like what attracts flies

                We all see Putin buying tRump another girl

                And none of them listens to what we say.

 

We’ve got to stop the help of that old Putin to dent our president.  The reality we keep hearing him say is “I’m Stalin and I can’t shut up!”

 

The owners get richer,

And the workers get poorer,

And the common people get taken advantage of,

That’s the gory of,

That’s the maga magic of tRumpsies and what tRump seized.

 

               So, what about:

 

                              Some say Melody

Some say Music

We all know You Are Sick

Melony

Melon Lie

Allonia

Melania

 

Donald Trump, you hear the claims of

Donald Trump, you cause the blames of

Donald Trump, you deserve to be in Jail!

 

 

 About Donald Trump, his life should end in the can.  His supporters say we are better off with  Geothermal Energy.  That GOP harms all Energy.

 

Why don’t people realize, “Scheme you all!  Scheme Heil!  That Hassling tRump is incarcerated.”

 

He keeps raising his fat faced dimples

He wants to claim all our votes, it’s simple

Donald

And he wants

His rapes to be our rapists too.

 

               Such a   Lying Man

Lying Man

He Claims whatever a Liar can

While there was a birth from his bride

He slept with whores on the side.

 

               It is not ‘Do Not Mistake.’  It is ‘Donut for Steak’  And ‘Meow my Donald.’

 

               Oh, this humid air I feel on my arms is like cotton balls rolling along from elbow to wrist.  I cannot breathe when I see those orange back drops.  My eyes close when that man keeps walking past carrying an empty, clear, plastic bag.

               Why did I ever walk into this place?  My ears feel the push of mercury around the sun.  And that’s not even my sun.  The gravitational rings around my home planet smooth out the question asking if we are all ducks from those cords over my head?  And what about the chores around my throat?  Pinchon is a wax in order to seethe my children.  If that cauldron was so blight, my remembrance would have a sock on his left ankle and three cicadas, all on its right knee.

               What’s right for him is watt’s kalamile in his neighbor’s palmetto.  Medow here and Metro there.  Hear a mellow, theirs is bellowed.  And whatever the bee shall see.

 

               Grab my wrist and enjoy while my finger pulses your soul.

 

                              Head Ache

                              Body Ache

                              I got such a Lie, Fake?

 

 

I told that Ladder Boy Flue, come blow your Farts.  You said you were an ally.  Or did you say that as a lie?  Your life is a facsimile of allies.

Are you menthol?  Because, if you are metal, that is alloy I know.  I do know my group is small.  While you complain about “All you minimals!”  It is your followers that think you campaign for the aluminums.    

 

I sure Hate when this all began

He should be sitting under the can

He’s such an irregular pooping man

 

Donald tRump is not a Doctor

He needs a Doctor, not a Donor.

 

He had four wives.  Were they living all together so he could send them out on loan?  Then there are all those days when that father stares at his daughter.  We all know it was much more than a munch.  They kept getting, all together, As they continued to be the Donald Bunch.

I know you hate it, but you are such a Right Winger, that that makes you a Leftist Generator.

 

                                                                                If you had fun reading THIS                                                                                                                          You could have fun reading some of THESE

Not Particles But Partial Leptons

 

Honeymooners in Space

Universe 12, Planet 35

35th Chapter of the Stellar Bus

 

 

               Ralph Kramden’s radium powered, atomic particled Omnibus had entered specific rotating neutrons and other named remnants.  Those remnants, in order, or at least by orders, are to pick up several, or is that sever all, scheduled, and deluged passengers, or is that passing gas, from the official Vela Pleiades clusters.  Those owners of the Abu DooYou Oil Company, Eatasalats, and other, or otter Shameful Lawless paid Ralph’s managerial company to tell Ralph he  has workers, partial cals, and other owned impressed as living concoctions which, or wicked, need to be moved from one location to the next.

               His stellar bus started picking up from various and vague luminous places in spaces.  These included the Hawking Radiate Ion, along with the Schwarzschild Randomus, and  several Collapsed Emits from specifically named Hadron Particles.  Ralph was told to deliver these so called people to named and claimed Primary Cosmic Ray Hadrosaurus, the Landau–Pomeranchuk–Migdal, and an engulfing of PeVatrons. 

               He was ordered to pick up not the Lost In Space, but a Lots In Space.  And he sure was told that there were a Lots of them In Space.  Or maybe, instead of ‘told’ it was, ‘You are too old.  And you are almost a disgrace.’   He interpreted  that in his usual way, and with not understanding  he has now gone to those planets he thinks that are owned by some Rich Men In Space, in order, and by those orders, to pick up their workers, crews, and more than a few things that various Rich Men want to keep Sending To Space.

               At the assigned pick up areas, Ralph landed his wonderful, or is that wondered at, bus and broadcast to each entering group, “Good boarding, and I hope not boring, unless you are a snake and then, by nature, you must be boring into the ground.   And for those of you with  stinking or is that thinking heads, mine is not thin but it is a king,  good tomorrow morning.  I’d like you to believe that we are making certain you are safe and comfortable and you are going to get to where you were ordered to go.  To be committed,  your comments are my commits.  But it is feared that  any scapular  particles go where there doesn’t appear to be any bondage among you.  This altitude of  anatomy had reached a final edge of vinyl fringe participations.   Ed here does  enjoy that refringerator.  We hope your altitude will  also reach the eleventh strap to a terrace somewhere.  We want you to claim ‘That resists nowhere!’  Anyway, departure should be sometime soon, once time is converted.

               “Please enter using our walking steps.  A surveyor belt will soon be available for those whose wish for insulation.  Thank man’s claims.

               “Since we now got that all straightened out, you may call me Ralph.  I am your independent driver of this group of Omnibus Diverter operators working for the United Field Hyperbolics fleet of mass transportational devices.   That liar you may have heard me talking about is Ed Norton, whom many of you have never met, along with his wife Trixie, and my wife, Alice.   And yes, I had met Alice, and that is ‘Alice’ and  not ‘Some Mice’, however, at times, I feel she gives me a munch of flies. 

               “Welcome.”

               When each individual group reached the ship’s users’ aisle, Ralph, who had them loaded, along with his guns, he kept telling them to keep going in.  Ralph finally dropped his microphone and conversed with his resting and waiting co-workers:

               Ed Norton, who was reading from a comic, not cosmic, star ship map, as he held onto Ralph’s compass, “I do not possess a dwarf galaxy in bellarix, a inmarsat, or a string of starlit obscuras.”

Ralph smiled and said, “ I'm glad to alkaid... a sting of starlit obscuras? Where do you algol that?”

Ed Norton frowned  pointedly, “ Right there... a hexagram of obscuras!”

To which Ralph responded, “That's a mintaka of starquake subplanets!”

 

Then one of the clouds of Auroras boarding Ralph’s Bus poked Ed in the back and said:

 

               “We’re old and fat

  Well, how about that

  Cayce, don’t you panic

  Out of the sky

  Into the flight

  When we solar storm all right

  We’ll need a radioactive mechanic.”

 

               Ed Norton then smiled and said, “Sure as shootin.  Everybody’s put in. I am your Celestial  Mechanic.”

               As they faded away Alice said to Ed, “So.”

               To which, but he acted like it was ‘to a Witch,’ Norton asked back, “Sew?”

               That caused Trixie to ask, “Are you going to Sue?”

               And the jaws of Ralph shouted, “Sidereal!”

 

               That caused them to shut up.  Afterwards Ralph and Ed sat in their bus’s workers’ seats.  At that time, Alice and Trixie went to Trixie’s kitchen in order to relax from Ralph’s friendly reactions.

               Back in the passenger area, in one row of seats, sat the Recount Nation.  In back of them was the Recur Nature. A seat seat here and a seat seat there, here it sat, there it sat a member of the Recongregation.  In some cases, it was a membrane, not a member. One aisle got filled with Read Conversation.  Over here and over there you could hear the Recongratulations.  And, off course and of course, many were Recon You Late Son.  Or were they Suns?  That’s because the bus transporters were not that bright.

               One of the passengers beeped Ed.  When he came to find out what was the matter, whether it was matter or gas or some substance that has mass and takes up space, the passenger asked, “Are you Star Light?”

               Ed said, “All Space.  Coronal Star Light.”

               The Cosmic Dust passenger glowed at him and replied, “Poor little Procyon.  We all know you ain’t good for nothin.”

               Upon leaving, because he did the launch, Ralph decided to go eat lunch.  Sitting down and staring at his platter, he asked Alice, “Do you want my alpha centauri to emulex out?”

               Alice then frowned, shook her head,  and said, “Your  magellanic cloud couldn't in any way osiris out!”

               As the bus flew on its route, Trixie and Ed laughed and sung:

                                            

                                             Solar Ray

Night or Day

They Say They’re A Star Ship Cruiser

In The Way

No Matter What May

We Know They’re A Bunch Of Losers

Today When They Pay Here

It Will Slay With A Laser

And They Claim  They Are All Snoozers

But In Reality

They Should  Say Boozers.

              

                                                                I hope you liked reading this                                                                                                                          Here is some more you can READ

              

               ,

Hue Art You?

 

               I know I am not like the guy in the cubical next to me.  My skin does not match his.  My hair is straight, in its own natural way.  What I consider natural anyway.  Maybe other people have their own considerations for natural.  Some people have no consideration at all, for many people.  His hair has what I claim are waves.  Others have what I interpret are curls.  Even though we both speak English, the general verbs are different, some times.  That seems to me like a lot, but then, I am interpreting that.  The nouns are different.  Or when they are the same, they sound different.  One of us puts ‘S’ at the ends of a lot of nouns.  I noticed that one of us uses ‘O’ for what I feel is ’OOO’ and that person puts ‘OW’ for what I thought is pronounced ‘OU.’  ‘Pronounced’ has that in it.  He actually noticed that and told me.

               At first, I felt like he scolded me. Sometimes, it seems, he told me, that I ‘Colded’ him.

               But after first hearing from each other, and attempting to understand each other, we got along.  He works on some things similar to me.  I work on things similar to him, sometimes.  Sometimes we work on the same thing.  Sometimes I have to change something that was a part of what he worked on a week ago.  Sometimes he has to correct something I worked on a couple of weeks ago.  I, he, they, whoever, don’t ever totally agree on what ‘Correct’ means.

               When I grew up, I got to know my parents.  It took some time, but I could not avoid it.  And I eventually began talking to my brother.  After a while, I began talking with my brother.  Finally, we learned how to answer each other and then even speak to each other without the other one of us questioning something.

               When I read about where, over many centuries, certain people came from, I got to know, or at least vaguely understand, my grandparents.

               Then I took the chances of and on interacting with my neighbors.  At times I thought they were of different races, and/or and from a different country.  The more of them I tried to talk to, and eventually with, I noticed some from even different continents.

               That was when I noticed that my Aunt grew up on the West Side and that is why she sounded different from my Grandfather who grew up Down South. 

               I found I had a group of nephews who lived and worked and put up with the sun.  Our sun.  Everyone’s sun.  Their skin tones resembled, in different ways, some parts of some groups who my parents called ‘Races.’

               When Kindergarten started, I was abrupt and shut up.  By first grade I knew, was taught, taught myself, agreed to that we were neighbors, even if we did not live next to, and it grew to, near each other.  Blond hairs, brown eyes, yellow teeth, deep voices, walking in step, bending your backs, noticing none, noticing some, noticing all, admitting it, proclaiming it, hating others, and getting along.  It is all different.  It is the people, places, and things.  What are things.  We, and the air, and the dust, and the rocks, what is in our veins, what is in our souls, what comes into our eyes, what comes out of our mouths.  It is all different.  And in some of our realities, it is all the same.

               I looked at that dandy lion.  It had dark roots.  The skin on its tube coming out of the ground was white.  That skin supporting the green complexioned leaves that surrounded the sweet smells of its yellow flowers.

               My neighbors, my classroom neighbors, my grade neighbors, my school neighbors, my neighbors neighbors, my relatives neighbors, my unknow, far away, occasionally passing each other, and next to each other neighbors.  They have all different tones, tones of what, tons of what,  and different hairs, if they have hairs, and different skin colors.  And different wants and needs and knees and feet, and features of one type or another.  Different ways they treat and different ways they approach their next door neighbors.  And those neighbors that came over on a boat or walked, road, hinged onto, were dragged, were dredged up, as they were or could have been or might eventually travel from one continent to the next, whether or not they were content, or weather their contempt and collecting all that was around them that surrounded them, those sirs and stirs and sires and buyers that they walked on.  And walked over,  And those who walked over them. 

               The stars in their eyes and the steers in the skies that kept giving rise to their mercury and forced colonies onto Mars and Marks and Marx and Sparks and Remarks and Venus.

               I am not you.  I have a different hue.  I sound and rebound and we all hound.  I am bound and glad you were found.  Found?  You Fountain!

               My cells share your cells.  Some of us are, were, or will be in cells.  Some of us boat.  Some of us vote.  Sum of us to both.  And we all have individual things that we are devoted to.

               I saw a thing.  You sawed that binge.  You have your thinks.  Many circle this ring.  Ralph will soon bring the King.

               Altogether, the dust and the air and the animals and the electrons and elections and rejections.  All of that, we light and we like and we ignite Life.

 

Is that a pterodactyl a Dinosaur or a Dino Soar.  He sure  gave me a Dino Sore.

Are we in a Nursery or is the News Eerie?

 

               When I was growing up, my neighbor was Mr. Behr.  He named his son, Timothy.  When we first went to grade school, as he walked with me into the playground to wait for our classes to start, as I introduced him, everyone around us yelled and ran away.  What they yelled was, “Tim Behr!”

               In our school, in the seventh and eighth grades, we had gym class.  At the end of the hour, we all had to take showers. On the first day of Seventh Grade, and then again on the first day of Eighth Grade, someone started yelling, and we all had to get out.  They yelled, “Tim Bare!”

               In a few years, after we finished school, when we started working regular jobs, my friend and I would go to a neighborhood saloon at the end of our shifts.  So many times, he would be sitting on his bar stool.  So many times, he would gulp down, lean backward, and fall off.  The bartender would just look at him, smile, and yell “Tim Beer.”

 

                              And here,  I thought that us Humans were the most advanced species on Earth.  In this solar system.  I thought we were Universal.  Then I learned to scuba dive.  After petting a couple dolphins and going in the opposite direction from a school of sharks, boy that school sure taught me.

               I was directed into a coral reef.  It, they, all are not just made up from one individual.  Or even just one kind.  There were shrimps and lobsters and arms and eyes coming out of the coral.  Clams, eels, and so many others. More others swimming around, eating, cleaning, and protecting themselves from me.  Many kinds sure are kind.

               Us Human neighborhoods, it is hard to find a working group of houses inhabited with more than one race or more than one continental origin.  Here, fish, corals, snakes build and mountain and maintain and they are not just in a corral like we did to those horses and Indians.

               These guys built with what’s in the water and what they dig out of the ground.  After ten or more visits, I realized that it isn’t just one reef, or even several reefs.   But I began looking on land.  I saw bee hives.  I saw ant nests.  I saw groups of turtles and gila monsters and snakes and more living together, working together, building and caring for each other in the deserts.  In the sun dried canyons.  In rattle snake burrows.  Everywhere and everything.  If they are alive, to stay alive they know they must work together.

               The wind.  The grass.  The streams.  The coasts.  Salty or not.  They take care of themselves without the hatred that we love to share.

                                             Oh! Oh!

                                             There’s a Duck Duck Here

                                             And a Duck Duck There

                                             Here a Feather

                                             There a Feather

                                             Everyone Bares Their Own Feathers

                                             That’s my conglomerate module shouting its alarm

                                             For My Swear Ego

                                            

                                                                  I hope you liked this                                                                                                                                      I hope you see if you like                                                                                                                              Any of THESE

Flies In My Heart, You Rang My Melody

 

               Beets and Bees are in my way.  I tried to yell but I didn’t know what to say to summer chill.  It still will stay.  I am a Feldspar observing my children becoming buildings.

               I was afraid, at first, when a “Geologist” took his spiked hammer to me.  I saw that he had two of them clung to his belt.  One for sedimentary, one for metamorphic and igneous.  I felt he was going to saw after me.  I sure am igneous.

               Stuff along my edge and further out eventually got chipped away.  Even now and tomorrow and the next day there are and will be chip, chip, chip, chip.  But in your life, there is always chimp, chimp, chimp, chimp.  And when enough tons of me sons, mesons, ions, my fronts, and my bisons.   They sure got chipped away and shipped away, shipped constantly, continentally, contently, and consistently.

               Instead of taunting, they taught me to create aluminum slidlings along with their other students creating groups for their course cores.  You think you taught me.  I thought of hues.  But not all of hues, I didn’t go to prism.   This course, of discourse, that chorus had too high of a horse.  And more?  Have you ever herded a horse?  Some of you never even heard of anything worse!

               That all puts me in remorse.   Some of me gets sentimental.  I sure do keep getting sedimental.  As I leave, there are  streaks all over the place.  This place.   Displace.

               One of my kids is the base of the Eiffel Tower.  Another one forms the face of the Leaning Tower of Pisa.  If he took a bigger step at that time, it would be the Leaving Tower of Pisa.  Pissas.  Pits Itss.  My boy sure would be leaning less.

               And how about all those people in those neighborhoods that took my grandchildren side by snide.  They sure got took in.  They aren’t even asked anymore, “Wooden Hue?”

               Neighborhoods should not be hoods anymore.  We don’t want no bark kings around those houses.  No one should be steeling apartment complexes.  Convexes?  It sure is getting complex with all that fiberglass all around.

               There used to be windows.  They sure became such a pane, for those wind doughed widows.  Douched Tin Too Mass.  Debiting Too Much.  Debut Two Mush.

               I am a rock.  You grow hair and yours sure needs conditioning.  The Rock of Gibraltar?  Is that your altar?  What do you alter?  Just brush away my old hair.  See how much I owed there?  I want to be and  am, instead, the Rocket that spouts and sprouts air.  Air is one of man’s many things.  Some of us are nitrogen.  If you drink enough of our gin your night rates gleam.  You’ll get visited by my glycerin.

               You guys keep claiming that you want more atmosphere.  At most, what you breath is what you get.  And what you bereft is what you fear.  What I breed gives you a steady floor to walk on.

               Have you ever thought, “Water you’ll do for me?”

               If it’s not too much, it is just Mere Curly.  If it is my aged son, it is an Old Ceon.  Do not a salt me with your water.  Zip up your pants.  What you do do do really won’t help those plants.

               You claim you provided for a bunch of ferns.  But they were just fossils.  Rock and Role.  Your Role is Your Foggy Soul.  When you get faster, you’ll see your foot sprint in this rock of garbage turf.  When I got my fastener, I ended up between a rock and a magna place.

               “So, lead is my like?”  you now ask.

               The irony now is, this is Ferrous Rockslides Day Off.  Him and I fight all the time.  He thinks he is Ferocity Ferrous.  And to him, I am just another Feld to Spar with.  

               You may claim you are an Angel but an Angle Turn is what Putin meant.   Now are you using Probiotics or Pro Robotics?  You sure have Artificial Intelligence!

               Someone told me that a permutation is an ordered combination.  Combination?  Combustion! Combine?   Come Bust My Nation! The number of permanent mutations of n objects taken r at a time is determined by the following formula: P ( n , r ) = n ! ( n − r ).  Instead that is a rat, at anytime. 

               Communist Nations?

8X7X6X5X4X3X2X1 = 40,320 combinations

 

Elections 

In  their

Outer

Sell

               What the hell we meant                Meant for all

 

1             So Sell Em                                         Sodium Chloride  Hate Light

2             Imagination                                       Do It All Night

3             All you minimum                             Bought Right, or Fought Night

4             Silly Con                                             Quirks

5             Foes For Us                                       Your Appetite

6             Sull Swear                                         Jail Any Of Ya

7             Choring                                              Pyro Mania

8             Again and again and again            It is me, Feldspar

 

               And I just ask myself, “Can a Bee live away from her Hive?  For a few days?  For a week?  For a Month?  I don’t think Bees live for Moths!  What is it that Bees eat and drink?  Are there people that make pets of Bees?  Do you Pet Serve or Pester?  Why don’t you  find another insect a boy can make a pet out of?”

               Waddle you bee?  Is there a Hive Hive here and a Hive Hive there?  You are looking up a tree.  I am a rock made of minerals and I am in the ground.  You don’t think I know about Hives down here!  What do you think that ants do?  They live.  They work together.  They have colonies.  They have their own Hives down here.  And they eat away at me so they can live.  They make some place they can store and protect their families.  You have some place you can store and protect your families.  What about The Earth and The Moon?  What about Saturn and its Rings?  What about our Solar System?  Just because you have skin cells doesn’t mean you are better than your neighbor.    He has them too.  Just because you have skin cells doesn’t mean you are better than the otters.  They have them too.  Just because you have skin cells doesn’t mean you are better than an igneous rock.  We have minerals.  We have crystals.  We have ions attracting ions.  The quartz veins pushing through me are no different than those blood veins pushing through you or those meteor showers pushing through Neptune and Pluto.

               To you, alive don’t mean anything.  Because if you understood alive you would know that comets and quartzites are just as alive as you are.  They exist.  Thoughts exist.  And we all exit.

                                                                                   I hope you enjoyed reading this                                                                                                                     Maybe you will enjoy reading THESE

Froggy Mountain Stye

 

               You’d better get it better, or if you are in a casino, get it bettor.  If you need to call the Frog Man for help, use the Frog Horn.  When they hear it, he and his buddy, Newt Grin Rich will come Flying at you.  They probably also will be Flea ing for you.

               There was a frog in the back yard under the evergreen bush.  It told me, “Yeah!  The flies do not swarm here, but I am not here to eat.  I am here to breath!”

               And that’s when the neighbor’s kid took out his tricycle and pedaled past the tree.

               That frog then told me, “It’s a good thing I wasn’t following my eating feelings or I could have been run over by that plastic tire.”

               Then the sun dried the dew off of the lawn.  A dandy lion flower bent and dried in that daylight.  It went from yellow to white and the breeze blew its parts out, all over the yard, and into various neighbors’ places.

               That was when that robin lofted down and pecked out a worm from some pile in front of me.  There was a pebble next to that worm’s hole, sparkling with some quartz streak.  We saw it because our sun poked moving across the ground, fighting with that cloud adrift over head.

               That frog then told me, “I plan to eat that ant now and then burrow under those dried twigs.”

               Life sure is gone.  I am forced to know it because I am alone.  No one cares that my arm is flattened by that falling branch.  I thought I saw someone I could tap but it was just a pile of dried mud. And you sawed the branch of that tree.

               The frog then yelled, “My pals call me Bog Food.  Where does Bog Food go?  What did Bog Food do?  Bog Food, we’re glad we ate you!”

               Oh God!  I know it ain’t the end of the year.  I know I have to work.  You people don’t know that I hadn’t been drunk in fifteen years.  Hell!  I haven’t even taken a sip of alcohol in seven years.  Just because I put up with all this frog stuff and noticing flies.

               I do my job and people around me should do theirs.  Yes, I will talk to people.  And No, I do not put people down.  Neither In Person nor In Mentioning that Person to someone else.

               I know I used to lose it.  But you people around me used to lose it just as much, at times. I got so ashamed of what people saw of me.  Saw of me!  They Sawed At Me!  And now I have changed.

               I am thinking now.  I take a breath.  And I think.  I appreciate people who do not obviously hunt other people.   But I do not have any friends.  I’d hunt for them but that hurts.   Forty years ago, when I was in college, I had my best friend.  I am a Man and she is a Woman.  We were not physically attracted to each other.  I found out during our long friendship that she is not attracted to humans.  Because of what her commander did to her and her crew.

               She encouraged me and encountered me and engineered me to ensemble her.   After I effected I ensembled her, and others.  I sure do miss her.

               Ten years later I had my second best friend.  She was like a mother to me.  A good mother.  Her family acted and felt like a real family to me.  And those feelings were to me.  Definitely not like my real family was to me.  My second friendly family wanted me to be me.  They wanted me to be safe.  They wanted me to exist and be able to grow.

               Fifteen years later I met my third best friend.  We were not that close but we accepted each other.  Like a frog and a toad.  We almost lived together.  But one of us was an amphibian and the other a reptile.  

               However, back in college, I had my fourth best friend.  We were pioneers.  We were nevers.  We were nervous.  We sure were envious.  I miss her.  I did not want her to give up existence for me.  I did not want ions and protons to be personally embedded and yarn wise knitted in order to take care of me.  We departed and now we are disputed.

               In grade school I had my fifth best friend.  We were not very close.  But we matured, a bit, together.  Because of that fifth I began to drink a fifth.  Several fifths.  I am not fifthy no more.  But I sure want A Friend.

               Then there was a time when, instead of friends, I had some buddies.  My buddies, Tom, Dave and I. We like the Three Stooges.  Dave liked to tell us what to do.  We’d all think he’s Moe, including Dave.  Tom played the Tuba.  Because Tom made, and still makes, mistakes along the way, we just followed him to instill his tries to get him to follow orders.  Dave called Tom, Larry.   They both called me Curly.

My Life Story is really The Legend of The Sequel

 

 

               This is the story of No One.  Was he being directed to bring two types of animals and his family to a boat?  Was that to save life on Earth?

               Anyone can see or reason out that where ever Know How was, he could not have access to all the animals across earth.  And even if other people or groups or leaders did evil things, would not there be some humans there that should not perish forever, just because they existed.  What about children?  What about New Borns?  What atomic bombs did they commit?  Is it your fault that your Kind was Medieval?  What voice do you have?

               Maybe “Earth” was just the neighborhood, country, or kingdom that Gnomes lived in.  Maybe Gnomes were discredited because they rounded up animals for food (cows), for work (oxen), for entertainment (birds) and possibly the “Two by Two” was inserted into the surviving texts way later.  Maybe No One ever rounded up people. 

               Maybe we were not rounding up animals, per se, but people we could put up with.  People we wanted to rule or colonize (a colony, any colony is usually ruled and the people there do not have much of a say so.  Maybe that was a colon instead.)  And the saving grace of the flood was an Un Known ship.  Was it a slave ship?  Just like, were the Puritans slaves, were the Pilgrims slaves?  A slave ship going off to some supposedly uninhabited region where that Gnome One was going to start his own Kingdom.  England calls the slaves they placed away from freedom in Australia criminals.  Were they criminals or was that a way to enslave them without peoples’ conscience demanding correction.

               When the food waters subsided, what plantlife, what vegetation for fluid would be left?  That Ache Arched Ark would have to have to start his own life before caveman type began dwellings.  He would not know what to eat or how to live.  Rivers would be formed not only afresh but also anew and they would wash that Gnome’s homesteading away continually until those rivers structured and secured themselves.

               Think, there was No flood subsiding, instead there was No One At All landing on what he claimed was an uncolonized continent.  Do I want a King Tut that would round me up like I am an animal and take me away to a never ending future of slavery?  Just because Heathen Gnome was not an Inca Troll at his beginnings.

 

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