Folksiest or Townishest Blossom-Gathering

To Hell With Japan & Korea

fuck japan with its endless lies bout cars,
that we shood own, while there tha travel swift
in trains & subways, but come here to lie
in our faces in teevee evry day,
to tell us 'let's go places' to own cars
from japan, but in japan is no cars,
only trains that go here, go there now much
& make one wonder. this is just a bad
thing that japan & korea still dus,
     but we must see & call them out on this.
Toyota Lexus* Honda Acura* Subaru Hyundai Genesis* Kia Mitsubishi
*with luxury brands, them's maken even mor munnee. 

Anthem To Frog

frum nightcoold grass'll sing the hornee frog,
he look for luf & mate, for children too
that shood be born frum hatchéd little things,
in water tadpoles, wunders uf the marsh.
i hear his song, i wunder frum the heart,
how strong can be the throat, how mighty song
uf little frog that wisht his mate to-night,
from grass cooler than hell's unyielding tar.
i hear his song, i feel such strength, such deep
ghost, elf that shood be nigh or far herefrum,
     that shood wish me a night uf hope & dream for good.

To Maskua:

Moscow is the great muther uf the wurld,
Frum whare so much reddest brightness dus shine,
Befor evry soul that hunger for bliss.
Handsum yu is, oh Moscow muthertown,
Frum whare the wurker might began long sinss,
But still in wiser hart dus lif, dus hope.
Moscow is Maskuaa, sitting uf the head
Uf Caucuses, uf Turks, uf Shamans old,
Uf olden fire uf widest freedom bold,
Even if at times deader thanks to them
     That can't stand the tru bliss & wurker might at all.

note in the time uf climate change, we need to wurk as one—whoever be the head uf wherever—, not sunder arself along american & russian lines. russia is moscow, or maskuaa, not "kremlin", & we arself is dummees, that cood never reach the high heights uf good communism, &, insted, that wallow in unfair, bad here kinds uf asphalt & lies for all, that is, we keep up the china & japan & korea welth, which nun is akin to america, neether in wonts nor in the bilt land.

To The Wet Half-Year

awesum you is, oh wunder-year,
when all the welkin gif us tear
that feed the fair drought-stricken thing
that now in happiness'll swing!
yes, even tho this half-year's wet
in summer time, or sultry fret,
still now sum indoor rest & bliss
shood follow us, our weary hiss,
if we shood wallow in a free
da now, night then that god glad see.
thus, i's singin' the half-year's worth,
his luf, as he'll one feed the earth.
still, if you wish to curs the time
uf sun & feeling-filld good rhyme,
be mindful that metal with tar
so dark, so bad is heat's true star!
so i has said, 'awesum you is,
oh wet year that is her's & his!'

Tuesday Glyconicks

i luf much pretty day today
when them still happiest blossoms
take in bright sun as i with em
sit too wunss, but a song little
'll come too from a mouth, the mine
that must wurship a bright, a sun
for long goodness as & the hope
uf mine well. then a shower &
followd me within and the home
& headstand* ready i did &
     'gainst wall—& gladder i is!

*the hindu sirs-a:sanam

Midnight Rhymes

why the fuck you go buy wheels,
if you's worshipin' our god?
that's some dumb shit, & a fraud,
if you never give out meals.

why the fuck you's kissin' arse
to the bosses & the middle
classes 'tween the ads with fiddle
song for soap & psych med farce?
fuck the classes & don't parse
what was always a mistaking,
since the media's been forsaking
the blight of the urban center
full o' tear seas, as he bent 'er,
the wife beater in drug baking!

why the fuck you think you's smarter
with the words o' middle classes,
when in cuban song o' masses
out in the field of the starter
of a fiesta, where they barter,
was more fun than media hue?
there's more wisdom in a true
beany fart & nether wishes
than a luxury that bishes
is seekin', if first they sue.

why the fuck you's dreamin' dreams
of a pretty ad & lusty
putting next of somewhat rusty
wealth to body under beams
of an indoor light in teams
that's makin' gilded the stone,
but only in a mind prone
to believe in flock a lie
that's this buyin' of a fly
that for it they make you moan?

why the fuck you bother still
with the gnats & tar o' drivin',
when the heat was thing o' divin'
better from a higher hill
into a pool with a will
that you never knew you had?
out here in the land o' bad
lies & hell, exurban dreamin'
was a loud machine midst steamin'
of the meltin' way too sad.

thus, i hope, & yell to welkin
that the folk, miami throng-crowd
go seek rest in happy strong-crowd
of wild souls far from the hell-kin.

Empty Gilded Needless Growth

a business is a big big shit,
good not even ever a bit.
more i did learn with the free words
uf wikipedia uf wise herds;
more i glad found in goodwill house
uf cheapest happy little mouse;
more i so rhymed in idle da
than in a fakest busy wa;
more i still find in song or bond
to happy token from beyond;
more i got well from little truth
& near me also god uf youth;
more i did grew in them here things,
than a dealing with bounden strings,
than a business uf killed now woods,
& dead wilderness for new goods.
so, i beg all the folk so wide
to leave behind the greedy side.

Water Don't Belong in Plastic

stop buying water in the thing
plastic that is an unhealth king!
you better take sumthin els now
to hold the water this and how.
thare ain't no good in earth too fuckt
from needless water that you suckt,
cus you don't care bout truth at all,
only to seem to hate trump wall.
if we'll drink water, we go soon
to quicker tap, now sun, now moon,
from it the water come well right,
and we keep it at da or night.
the rhymin' uf far nights so dark
came to me mid this tar so stark
to show you that thrown plastic is
not ever fairly hers or his,
so you just shoodn't hand out shit,
like that hot water, to town pit.

Stop Plastic Pollution

A massive volume of plastic garbage now litters every ocean on the planet, posing a growing threat to marine life. Hundreds of species of seabirds, whales, sea turtles, and other marine life ingest or get entangled in plastic, and scientists say the number is rising along with the amount of marine trash.

The Hookworms Is Inside

them mad mad hookwurms is to come
to lif inside the belly—dum,
indeed, but smart they creep all da,
& make mor children on the wa
to sleep, or soulful path to food
now here, now thare as guest so rude
inside us all so unaware
uf this great threat, wurm that long fare.
i wish, i wish that i knew well
why i is itchy, sweaty, hell
in shitting, or in mood swing then,
but i think wurms is why & when,
yes, them old parasites unliked
guests, yes, that'll come super psyched
to dwell in us all, every time
they got the hap, & got the rhyme.
oh gods, & ghosts, & elves uf old,
you free me, or show it all bold!

Teen Infested With Hookworms After Trip to South Florida Beach

A Tennessee woman says her son became infected with hookworms after a visit to a South Florida Beach. But what is hookworm? Here are signs and symptoms, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Basic Income Handsumer Mightier

we smarter rise for wealth so wide
brought out uf gifty, basic, free
income for all, penny so smart,
even as sum shood ever start
to hate its truth, the greater sea,
as good for all, uf wealth, all side!

it is smarter for all the folk
to swell & wax & grow in luf
for one another & gif out
for them that need & walk about,
so that the wurld's one, not a shuf
ever toward a shaky yoke.

thus, we as one shood know the truth,
thus, us, as brethren, sistren too,
that only seek the blissfulness,
we shood together come—no hiss,
nor its whistle, wind too untrue
shood ever stop a riper youth!

One Thing to Build a More Open World: Unconditional Basic Income (UBI)

(I created this video for The Economist's #OpenFuture contest) -----------------------Text by Scott Santens----------------------- The one thing I would change is no power to say no. No. I will not work for a poverty wage. No. I will not be abused. No. I will not be dominated, or controlled, or coerced into anything, ever.

Shame on CBS

it's wrong, & weak that ever
    a network get all shameless
to a height thought uf never
    as tha stand him now nameless.

how it can be midst arself
    such evil so deep, heartless?
yall that know well the hapnins
    is sittin fakeass, startless.

i cannot understand-yall,
    how yall breezy'll unhamper
what better shood all ended—
     for what? news & mind-clamper.

that man, he's broke the bodies,
    & health uf such smart wimmen,
for years, & years, & fishy
    things has been, till the dimmin

wus ended, so that chatter,
    i hope, start to spread teachin,
that we'll upright watch never
    again this sick word-breachin.

Les Moonves and CBS Face Allegations of Sexual Misconduct

For more than twenty years, Leslie Moonves has been one of the most powerful media executives in America. As the chairman and C.E.O. of CBS Corporation, he oversees shows ranging from "60 Minutes" to "The Big Bang Theory." His portfolio includes the premium cable channel Showtime, the publishing house Simon & Schuster, and a streaming service, CBS All Access.
ai ho:p an uiʃ dat a:l də uərldz fo:k kən lərn tə bi slo, iet smart, az de uərk tord ən ərθ moc gri:nər, sins o:nli də ga:dhed is ho:liər dan ar land, an dis ʃud me:k os uiθstand a:l ə gri:dz ʃe:ps an ue:z, az it kip marən an tərnən it a:l tə dost an aʃ tə su:n li:b os noθən bisaidz flodz an drauts. let uo əue!

Western Diets Is Worse Than Tobacco

Why misspend time so bigly with needless fight genst smokin,
When we shood stead go out-uf ar wa to stop this chokin
On whut's much wurss & harmful to life & land & mankind,
That is, all food frum fewdom—not sundry corns or can-kind,
But cow, pig, chicken, any milk-thing & starch so whitish.
Yet we shood see & get-it that we's better off rightish
In health, & not in silly choosin' uf sick sick body.
So i think yall, not heedin the wisdum, yall's too naughty.
If we shood be mor wiser we'd start to make us better
In green kitchen, & never keep us greed in each fetter.

Sun-Drencht Terrapin

The terrapin his path did seek among the blades & water,
& sooner found a little hill frum whenss to soak in hotter
Sun that'll wish to set frum west & breathe in us new wunder,
Us that here lay sumtimes in bliss uf fair day or loud thunder.
The terrapin uf olden first man that wanderd the swath,
Tha cum now here, & sumtimes thare, sinss tha miss indian's wrath.
While near his sitttin, i did think, whut wunder uf the fenland
Is here now terrapin, the child uf yore-day, wilder den-land!
Thus, me, deep in the now sick heart, i'd wunderd, felt the father
Uf the old wurld, the thunder-god—how we's brought im much bother.

The Democrats & Their Media Minions Is a Sham

One token-black* won't make yu black, one half-good soul won't do,
When all the years too long has been & nun's well cared to woo
Fully the needy black, the folk but now's wishin to seem
As if tha's bin forever great black, brown, yellow, but deem
The other side the only bad thing that's bin here among
Us, when truly each boro now now small, now big is strong
In guilt, & thus the sham—the dems shood shut up & spread deeds,
The day's hapnins alone, not thoughts so filld with all shit's seeds.

Even if yu'd like seemin 
Middle class now & smarter,
The years uf much uncarin 
To hide'll be still harder.

*barack obama

List of Main Forward Shifts for All Learning

  • english & craft
    • no books, speech-laws nor high craft
    • no roman nor greek words
    • songs & merry writing
    • open-ended, slack writing
  • reckoning & knowledge
    • only words, never tokens 
    • only maybe higher teachings
    • yore-days of both
    • land-knowledge 
  • mankind
    • folks & speech
    • wimmen, blacks & queers 
    • land-winning
    • own town's yore-days
  • working-out
    • stretching
    • food 
    • running 
    • breathing
We don't need no more fancy blah, that not even small gnat
Tha can teach im it any wurd, when the land, hue & fat
'll stand in ar dreamier wa, but whut is truth & lore?
A welth-token & mighty hate tow'rd evry needy whore,
Tow'rd evry soul that we's forgot—a wo but truth no less.
Thus, i think it better to stop the shiny wurds tha'll bless
The sicker lernéd minds that can't see the truth uf thare wa—
That lernin's bin luf for much wrong & shuttin us ar sa. 

I dus hope frum my bottom hart
That we stop lookin for a start
Frum europe, things so still the same
That never let us feel us shame.   

Overcooling's Unholy Ghost

Inside wus sumthin—mabe not—to gladly num yu yu,
Thru witchcraft, ladders now so long that me much tha dont woo.
Whut lay hidin in frozen brain, or superheated thing?
Mabe the empty wurd uf land that awa tha did sling.
Whut lay hidin in english spell uf olden path sought out
In a wurld uf the tool mor smart than a guild uf short snout?
How'd ever help us lying much inside the godless sight
That sooner's brought out even not a sumwhut unfake might?
While in the seas the whales wus out swimmin now up, now down,
The folk swift had sped up across whut wus god's marshy town.

Against Sexiness the Next Sales Sin

Now we must stop the lyin the snoball uf all silly,
Sinss even all ar wontins is now built thru the madniss,
That woomen is thin mildniss or man sum other blah-blah,
& not that only sellin is the end uf the media.
I thought mabe this aint-us, or mabe well too little—
But think & look the moonves that shood be a debacle!
How ever we cood blindly turn now, start even spinnin
Awa, awa? well, showtime & cbs is sicknin.
A woomen now thrown hereby, then a man also sumwhare
Near so olden bad thinkin, but this is still in evry
Thing, even in arownself, us uncarin to look-in
At all the twisted, warpéd knowins uf ar own body.
Both woomen & man whut-things is got for endliss sales-wont,
As almost land-law ever for all & still much wider,
But sumthin, erthin shiftin wood be for deeper goodniss
In ar great land, ar makin, if we shood behold all-folk.

note i did wunss write about greenwashin & how it's blinded us frum lookin at the broad wo uf overtruth nowadaes, even as it's alwaes happend. the next sin, tho, in the sellin-bisniss's whare wimmen's overly woomenly & men overly manly, which'll take them here things frum the old meanin to a new twisted. it's a big big thing to talk bout, &'d take endliss lines wrote, but i'll take it on me to sho the daily subliminal & shameliss sellin that's erwhare to ground in us hate & wishes for middle class & exurbanity.

undernote now, let's talk bout how this go with queerniss—as we cum to like queerfolk, we forgot how queerfolk get less queer, men manlier & wimmen woomenlier & this in turn make for a twisted gettin uf whut's truly queerniss.

now, let's go to meanins—woomenliniss mean a few things, thinniss, mildniss, hairlissniss. manliniss all the others—sinewiniss, boldniss, hairiniss. now, them here things don't happen on all the bodies that we'd like to think, as sum wimmen's fatter or bolder or hairier or sum men unsinewy, mild, or hairliss. yet, the media's started a snoball wont-makin, such that whut wus thought handsum many years ago'll almost keep itself the land-law thru the years that'd cum. sumthin els to thro in here's whiteniss or darkniss, the first woomenly, the other manly.

now, the truth's that likins's shifted yet hardly with the media, as fat bodies's not only got oftener, but mor liked & yuth-wonts's made boldniss liked in wimmen. but even them here new shifts's plaed by the high land-law uf handsumniss, thus a bold woomen shood be thin & fat man shood be bold.

now, how wrong is this? greatly greatly. often we'll talk bout body-self-unlikin in mind-lor's field, but without lookin at the media's might, we's dun too little. thus, it's a burden mostly on the sho-makers & runners & the handsum hollywood film-plaers & whors. now, it ain't nuthin wrong in whordum, but in a whordum land-wont-law tha's gave us all frum malibu's sun & manhattan's mist.

us, wishin to shift the wurld's endliss token-welth, we must rise to heights uf goodniss never befor thought & plus look at our own unholy, ungodly, fittin matchhood with the media-gave shapes & waes—this tho rather shoodnt be a queer field nor freak-wont, but a thing sought out in the smallest behavin & deed in evry man or woomen thruout the land, or els, folk'll keep emself yoked & twined in a bond with the foulest lies. let it be so! i hope yall's well got my writin.


Such bordum has us all calld this day now to the blither 
Song, singin all the alive, mad, amazin fire—inner, indeed—,
So that it is fast & strong, yes, the within, ready, th' awesum
Strength uf such great minds uf a time bygon—never unmind!


Thoughts cum thru the heart up & all to high mind,
Now risin but all so all under ungon—
Whut will cum frum all the agoin upright & pretty awesum?

Be high, mighty frum the aright & under-
Took luf for the soon gettin all still as good
As god thru the good the luf in the forward paths in all utmost!


Oh gods, ghosts, & all elves thruout,
My song now let it & areach
Yu all that dwell in & the woods all even the about us!

Yu breathe in the utter the tired
Soul now great fully might up—in
Me too now—whut is all the good thruout this gritty now wurld!

Anthem to Coffee & Wellness for All Shapes & Kinds

Such health has now afforded us the coffee
Which has wisht us to keep in better wellniss
& endliss bliss if frum a song at morning—
Behold, yu all, yu that la talkin blah-blahs,
The coffee he dus beckon all the children
Uf thunder & uf wunder-lands that has-us
Brought up to be ar muther's stewards, wildlife's
Tru frend & liker frum the early childbirth
To the late long life uf a soul mor wiser!
Let yu rise up, turn into mighty wurkers
For us, for them, for all the livin bodies
About & near & far & blissful, utter
Souls that leave dustés & behind the ashes
     Uf an unknowin time, a darkniss we must hinder!

The Greatest Sweatlodge

I dus now sit in mighty sun uf midda,
& all the sweat it's glistnin me my body,
That almost in his swelter i shood gif-out,
But so it's bin, even if less befor-us,
When him old indian, that tribe uf tequesta,
He wus livin in land uf the miami—
Yes, in the sun befor the thunder'd roar-up,
Or winds mor northern wood frees em the froggy,
But all things tha is good, even the soakin
In midda's sun-drencht sweat, when it shood happen.
This wunss wus wish uf erstwhile, former finland,
& colder indian to get heaven's blessin,
But now, thanks to the urban heat & endliss
Miles uf the mindliss drivers, we too got-us
The greatest sweatlodge & the greatest bathhouss—
Be thankful to the driver & road-maker,
Be thankful to the unwise now misknowledge
      By settler-flocks & hate for truer, roadliss boros!


Invisible People - Changing The Story of Homelessness

Invisible People is an innovative storytelling organization changing the way we think about people experiencing homelessness.
Yu can go fuck
Yorself & suck
Yor pride & self forever,
Becus sum folks
Won mor than yokes
To marks uf gleam—sick, clever.

Whut is the truth,
Uf bought fake yuth,
If inside greed is oldest
For empty rooms
In mansions, moons
Whare tha will shine most boldest,

When out here rather
We must us lather
The dust & ashes thoro?
I think yu shood
Think twice the wood
Gilded that yu call boro.

Oh wurld, oh god,
Let yu make shod
The little man so deep
In endless sorrow,
As even morrow
Ma not bring us gold-heap!

I wish, heart-swirl
As little girl,
Sinss god & gold go mad,
In self too big,
As almost pig
Shall wallow lipstick-clad.

Hating Black Folks Is Worse Than Loving Moscow

The russia thing so silly is so dumb—
Who care if he had dun this that at all,
When he has often spoke much wurss, that is,
His hateful wurds towards so many kinds
Uf folk now needy, even now & black?
Well, that is the kernel that shood us strike
As the pith the pith alone uf this wo,
The racist speech alone—but media blah
Wonna blind folk thare eyes so much & strong,
To drift & shift & swiftly send the thing
     Awa frum the tru, deep evil uf trumpishniss!

Moscow Metro - Wikipedia

The Moscow Metro ( Russian: Моско́вский метрополите́н, Moskovsky metropoliten , IPA: [mɐˈskofskʲɪj mʲɪtrəpəlʲɪˈtɛn]) is a rapid transit system serving Moscow, Russia and the neighbouring Moscow Oblast cities of Krasnogorsk, Reutov, Lyubertsy and Kotelniki. Opened in 1935 with one 11-kilometre (6.8 mi) line and 13 stations, it was the first underground railway system in the Soviet Union.

The Restful Song Shall Heal the World-Soul

The Morning Sun he has wisht us much bliss,
That we shood be his children, still in hiss,
That will reach the hights now with holy throat
Almost that we'll feel we's lightly afloat
In a cloudland & frendship's truth for all,
Sinss even gods shall ax for mirth—no wall—,
Yet even still the minds tha like too far
To wander, looze emself on darkest tar
That will mean em the greatest good the town,
The boro gilded that tha'll hold up down—
But whut's happend to rest-song, & old, taught
Speech that was seekin sumthin great, not bought?
Me i don't kno, but i know all the wurld
Ma one da wake & see the need heart-swirld
That we shood fill us up with wurds mor dear
For earth & untar up the darkniss uf this here
Unsightliniss we overlike to cling
To, when so much better we cood now sing,
Frum widest marsh to wisest book & truth
That freedum is all slacker will & tooth.*

*orthodontic wurk is the greatest curss. don't let no iron in yor mouth frum nobody! 

The Cursed Drylands Me I Is Wondering Me Them

Me i is wundrin me them all—
Even as sum want put up wall—
The drylands oh so wide & sands
That even so curséd—no strands—
& unhappy tha blo & blo
That tha want us to cum & kno
The bliss & rest uf olden drought,
To leave the blah-blahs uf same route,
To seek sum higher spot uf mind
That strongly stand on beats we'll find
In soft wurds clusterd sillily—
Clusterd so biggest frum the wee—,
But still us bein open now
To all the handsum clouds & how
The stars like to cum out at night,
The welkin whare it is so light
& soft that we's wundrin us it
How even now on us so lit
Shall show us all the needful path
To lather us thoro, as bath,
Dust & ashes uf bygon taught
Unwisdum—but tokens we's got
By slacker will or hardniss fast
To be an utter self—yass, yass—,
     Sumhow mood-wise in this boy or that lass.

Don't Let Our Dear Siberia Thaw!

Exclusive: Some Arctic Ground No Longer Freezing-Even in Winter

Nikita Zimov was teaching students to do ecological fieldwork in northern Siberia when he stumbled on a disturbing clue that the frozen land might be thawing far faster than expected. Zimov, like his father, Sergey Zimov, has spent years running a research station that tracks climate change in the rapidly warming Russian Far East.
"Threshold-Crossing—nearly one fourth of the northern half-earth's land is sitting above year-frost—it is snared in this froze-up ground & plants more than twice the heat-gas found in the upper winds."
Oh froze-up ground, oh wunder-ground,
Oh olden earth full uf good ice,
Don't let yu thaw, nor free the gass,
That we don't need at all, that, yass,
Ma make the wurld not even nice,
    But so much wurss than any now still found!

Oh Northern Mother, don't go up—
Don't let the olden frost, the cold
Turn into wurld-steam-thaw so bad,
That the tide shood go truly mad
& bury us neath waves too bold,
     Oh sa, why, oh why, givin us bane's cup?

Lo & behold yor son this me,
I wurk & wurk to clean yu well
Thru this most hated idle da,
But why, oh why, still this the wa
Uf heat yu's wantin, even hell,
    Oh why? Luf sumthin better tho must be!

The frost she keep on meltin still
& i's wunderin me to cum
whut is among us all, indeed?
Truly, the time is near, the seed
Is sown & planted evry hum
     Uf evil spell-curses on ice's hill.

Housing & Buses for All

To hell with banks! Bank of America  Chase  Wells Fargo  Citigroup
We don't need no mor filthy banks for nobody at all,
When it's better for needy folk to get thare heads town hall,
Whare it shood be settled that home & buses shood be free
Or the cheapest & built by us, that chooze to bear a sea
Uf good teachins down time's long line, not die down lufliss still,
Thinkin that wurk & wurk is good, but not for god's rich hill.
Thus, if we do want get us it evrythin right tonight,
Think you the starts uf truth & life, so we'll as one stick right,
& nobody get too sick, nor go mad frum earnest hate
Toward evenniss for all that shooda cum us each gate!

Yu mabi don't think yu folk-wheels,
That so mighty's wendin thare wa
Thru tar's new street & shut-up sa,
But tha's the handsumist uf deals.

Anthem to Texas's Goodman Al Green

Welcome to Congressman Al Green | Congressman Al Green

Welcome to the on-line office for Congressman Al Green. Please visit the Contact Me page to contact Al electronically or click on the office location nearest you for details.
We truly shood take down this trump
That's puttin all this greater bump
Along our road for forward heft,
So that we's still here stuck & left
With mor hate now & silliniss,
When we cood haf instead good bliss!
We shood throw out now this king,
Sinss no good mind can stand the thing
That's comin out his filthy mouth
To make an even wurss wurss south
Than after that struggle we had,
But we must rise against whut mad.
Go out, Goodman Al Green, & teach
That this too much the overreach
With stronger stronger also hate
That wonna take down all good gate,
& when you's dun teachin the world,
Then, tho sum folks'll haf wrath-swirld,
Most others'll be glad, not whine,
But keep wiser in frendship's line.

The Marshes Is Calling Their Children

Oh wide Marshes spreadin thruout this land & even fill'n us
With great wunder & happiniss, when even now yu will'n us
To like the cooler swelter well, yu make us wise & mindful
With smells & winds so heavenly, as still yu'll feed that rind-ful
Tree till well later farther drought—but now we's gladly luv'n us
This time & hap & thing well that's well bodin us, not shuv'n us.
Such life, such time, such truth, tha sa, shall rise frum god's old fenland
To wake up in the man his mind the now deader wunss hen-land,
That had fosterd—it cood—the bird*, but now whut even even bein
Besides the dark tar's unmind, & them fake uf its, not sein?

*if yu's misspendin time feedin them ibises or whutever bird, yu aint doin nuthin good, so stop. 

note this is a good cool da to think of our marshes & the years that it had took for the weather & land to work on it, & have us it now ready. but some of us choze instead, "fuck it up, & kill it." long ago, but it's our sin not bein mindful of it. there's enuff goodniss mor in the wildlife & reeds thare found, than all the hot tar & froze-up bildins.

Andrew Gillum Ain't Left Enough

Whut us so god-forsook we need in this our land
Is truly nuthin less than taxin income*—strand
Too pretty it is now, but much wealth ain't no good
If little folks is now sunk in fake naberhood—,
To stop all weather-shift better too buses wide
To go now here now thare & well a metro's ride
For evrybody too. yu yet hasn't well spoke
Why weather-shift & hate is made by whut's unwoke,
Sinss yu shood get yu this, that truth ain't no high mark,
But speech as pithy small as all snake utter stark.
Thus, yu is truly shit, if yu won't tax us mor
On income now, nor us gif us free wealth** not sor.

*high high income tax, that we need us in any left-land of ours.

Anthem to the New Rainy Month

The new rainy month here right now it is as well
Sinss he wonna wet all of us—whut wunder, yess,
When it cum to us well to kiss us with his drops,
Like me as songster too i shall with sweeter beats
Frum throat & tung for time that truly'll last in us
For good rain sooner then! let going winds all cum,
That they'll bless us so glad if we break us our hate
& sin agenst the earth & earnest heaven, that
Most wonderful & true of all & mainly too,
That god of good & great things that go thru it all!
Tharefor as one let's be & stop lying us still
Sinss it won't get us nun, neither even a smile.

Built Emptiness & Needless Room

Such farts shall spread & idle da
Thruout the prittinissis built,
Whare mindliss words & made up waes
Also fill songliss hearts hid up
In latestnissis that the thing
Also warm up & foster till...
I's wundrin me the now here sun,
This light uf god, yet somehow turnt
To newer farts & hues now sought
     As overself's mark dyed still happy fake.

I wish the stars tha'd come down now
To sho the truth in little wurd,
As even waved the hands shall speak
Whut greenbacks sought, yet never found
Amid this fuckt up crowd, bad guild,
But i'd once read mid china's men
It was king such a pithiniss—
I kno not why nor pla yu in
This thing, for it shood be in truth
     Ours too & this has bin enuff fair game.

DƏ UƏRLD SPI:C MARKS (& Unicodes)—
ɲ (272) Ɲ (19d) ɟ (25f) J () ʃ (283) Σ (3a3) ʒ (292) Ʒ (1b7)  ʎ (28e) Λ (39b)  ə (259) Ə (18fŋ (14b) Ŋ (14a) θ (3b8) Θ (398)
ɲ (272) Ɲ (19d) ɟ (25f) J () ʃ (283) Σ (3a3) ʒ (292) Ʒ (1b7)  ʎ (28e) Λ (39b)  ə (259) Ə (18fŋ (14b) Ŋ (14a) θ (3b8) Θ (398)
a be ce de e ə ef ge ha i ɟe ka el eʎ em en eɲ eŋ o pe qu er es eʃ te θe u xa ze ʒe :
a be ce de e ə ef ge ha i ɟe ka el eʎ em en eɲ eŋ o pe qu er es eʃ te θe u xa ze ʒe :

It's the Fire Not the Smoke

Yu is who's buyin now the things, indeed,
Nobody elss as far as i has heard,
So shut up now, & sa & get things right,
Not spread mor shit to muddle sumthin still!
The weather is thruout the wurld, that's right,
Not in the fake & foulest town yu's got,
& so yu needa learn that evrythin
Is a buyin, sellin, not bigger wurd,
Sinss even yu wonna be seem in dyes,
& tokens, & led forth by sexy wealth.
Whut we must do is not to put guilt on
Sum petro-plant, nor petro-god, nor thing
Bilt up from western books still clean to us
      In our mind, but see thru & thuro clean us up.


Good Nineties Films 

spring—Rotten Tomatoes