Yesterday and yester-year brought the John Deere stocks I paid for in cash, oh dear, my John Deere stocks!
My found dough of double-vision causing MENTAL nuclear-fission, on this my mission,
In the Missionary and DAILY love-making of the past (yesteryear…) like smoking grass,
Mowing alone, in the lawn, to Rook a Pawn, down with the piece, the game is long,
Rarely inept and every morning Erector sets of curls for the girls, like Ember, craving conversation!
Taking me for a walk down a hill, oh the thrill- but, she hides her butt, when turning around, her squeaky sneakers make a busy city street, Bid on a Biden buzz to the brain, his CRAIN eeeee yummm — do you see me, or do you see THEM? The white label cassette tapes sold in sidewalk-stores, the homeless, Biden he implores, SELL YOUR FISHING LURES! Profits abroad my William Mahoney handling my Tesla stock, him on the phone I voice a PROD, with Dad’s fishing-rods, Todd, a Toad to toast dinner… a roast, of SPF15 un-protected toasted skin with Hawaiian Tropic at that radical store “Hot Topic” as my Topic: Bitcoin, which stirs my loins at Longhorn Steakhouse, so go in your House little Rip Aunt Ida so heavy with her resting in peace, upon swallowing Sirloin… adjusting my groin, and keep the silly-bidness in the bedroom, 1980’s Max Headroom for a visual buzz, the CGI of a man’s head, instead of MTV where the music videos displayed joyfully, with a stuffed belly of the bunk hunk at the Summer Beach of topless hotties undressing the bow, oops that’s naughty, and Nature of the precious rainforest all lit up on satellite pic’s, cigarettes (I DON’T SMOKE CIGARETTES OR CIGARS!) of Double Diamond lights with the lighters running low and $1 each, I’m a peach, touching the one of my Hun when I lived at HOME (I’d like to buy a house I can easily afford in Charlton, MA!) Come to the residential private road along Baker P. A money-maker I be… You see, it’s me, and my stocks rising so dramatically. JC pays for his son Lee. Wearing Hilifigger baggy jeans, the Melanin residing residue within, the welfare-recipient, David, and dead instead of getting help with his heroin, that Hermoine represented by Emma What-son?
Ask my Dad, not bad, not trash, I put in a new GLAD bag in the receptacle- hard I’m a spectacle, and not near sad! Put the pieces along the pussy-cat that Matt was fat and Justin had his pot-belly, now him smoking too much P-O-T with the P.O.W’s released from mental hospitals (5 times) dropping dimes on the bar’s surface, drinking dumb and sitting on my bum, leaning on the bar, across the street (years ago, SOBER 2016!) them delinquent drunks slurring their words, whispers of bartenders I heard, then, at Day’s End of mainly caucasians, the Oxford hicks driving their cars, not far, really = feel me, Grey Goose pricey IIRC, I preferred the Fruit of the Lomb with a Prince’s Tomb, at the end of the womb, Burrr-th to death and victims of a “set-up” my time is not UP!
Like Pixar’s cutesy movie, seen in a theater, with Justine, sitting near side her- alongside her happy kisses on the cheek, and Bill Gates is a great Humanitarian GEEK! Smoking GACK and injecting CRACK LIKE PETER DID HERE AT “AVERTE” so now he’s gone and done spying on me, telling the staff he didn’t like me, so he punched me, and FRANKFURTERS ARE WEINERS, like Mr. Anthony in government, meaning it the wrong way — although I think it’s funny there’s a Mr. Weiner — my spleen, and HER, the bending at one knee for the shorter hunnies, the Playboy Bunnies of Cinnamon Spice on Easter Morning with the Rabbit, dag-nabbit…
Ribbit-Ribbit the bullfrog DOZES does a dozer to grab my Hoes and rub it on Ally’s toothbrush, but not much, feeling only a glass shard of her, frightful this girl, she is no longer in my World, my Universe I reached beyond Him without a Sin, of Sinning Asian “massage” after reaching to a restaurant, waking up at Dawn A.M. “Dish Soap” Afloat in the real realm of Mother Hen with a chipped beak, the corn kernels Roosters eat, and who knows the ALPO chew, Teletubbies for you, to hold and make a Mold after scraping off the green stuff on baked bread, PB&Jeffrey and Ben at Jerry Seinfeld’s stand-up “Show” brightly berated Broadcast with a shattered elbow, oh no… and ut oh- think and say, all in Ukraine!
Michelle Moon with a Wiggle-Wiggle as I let out A BIG BANG OLD LAUGH FROM MY BELLOWS, EACH LUNG, the Latin Kings should be Hung
their big black units — their GUNS — Atilla of the Huns — I saw a nigger here today by the entrance, wouldn’t it figure with the figurines
using the war-time Latrine’s of Latino’s so rowdy with lowriding lowriders and Honda Civics, the street-racers are mimicked- beside her
hair over there across the shoulder of length long luminosity — a website I trained my Traumatic Brain Injury with — a monthly fee and quicker thinking to be seen, by me, in the month of May this Day in April on Facebook, I take the hook, while seeing no ads, I’m glad, my payment worked, like a Twisted Fork, with a lifted truck getting Gaylords of plentiful papered plastics and polymers — oh Golly, beached whales sanded with Sandy, the maid, with me giving her gifts (while sweeping) I’m awake when she’s in my apartment, when I don’t have Dr. Candildo, you know?) not this week, to him I speak, like many years with Dr. Kent, my money in my wallet is present, a present, and not yet SPENT!
My Hilfigger jeans — not Tom H. — Tommy Hilfigger or Tom Hanks, Thanks, a girl’s booties I… ponder the crescents of Crest’s Breasts- the curves, when I don’t have The Nerves to make a threatening motion, the Ocean of back and forth — pornography I shun, but only Magazines! And Trojan’s terribly beaten Horses, with Grammy’s Nurses, leading her in her Hearse(s) of the Marquis grave, a Tunafish fish reeled in by a Bermuda slave, the balsam suede Salve to rub ones hands, in the Tub! Me poking females’ “chub” around the waist, lose that bodyfat, Justine, POST HASTE!
Toothpaste by Crest (and a mother’s breast…) reeking like Menthol — cigarettes are disgusting! — Bloomenthal Brother J-Man at the Restaurant 99, practically all-the-time! Spending $10 on 2 big beers pre-2016, when oh when, I would sign Disability checks with a ballpoint pen, Everything Zen! And When? Heads or Tails, I despise the Ale’s, Troops on the Ground and them Aling for Ukraine to win, Zamanskyy is Pale- like a pail with a pal at the Beach = To BESEECH again, I have few friends, needing Peter to communicate with, I can explain, I feel no pain in my back, that I was in the Sack- for five days in a row with a hurting back, to try to get up vertical? I’d go splat!
Spinal Tap the drum with one hun, my Justine Aragona — I LOVE HER! — Justine is special, she is Pristine, no longer a teenager, her Mom did what I said and bought her a pager, for a brief time, I don’t drink any wine, for a long time 2016 I quit drinking with A.A. only twice, that I knew quitting drinking alcohol would be NICE, and appreciated by my Parents, scoring Par, hitting the golf balls very far, driving my car a Subaru for Mom! YOU KNOW WHO! At the Driving Range Rover now Sober- oh the monkey off my back, I didn’t have a heart attack! Tick. Tow. your boat along the Medieval moat when visiting a goat on a farm, wearing a yarn sweater, Aunt Donna is so much sweeter than most, she’s a Host… at a Hotel, The Most Host with my upcoming house in Charlton, MA — her visiting us Marquis’es and I’m fully vaccinated of COVID-19 “Variant” diseases, at easy breezy weather girl Bri Eggers, on TV at breakfast, with such some ease, be my Instagram friend, oh please? Thanks for the add while subtracting Twitter, as Fox News says “Elon” my friend, he said, “Yeah sure, I can be your best friend, every day if you want” – 2005 Facebook
Trolling a swore sewer rat in the seeming tranquility of the waste-line pipes of THE CITY!
SMH = Shakes My Head using JPMoran instead with Latin I in 7th grade, I graduated to Spanish 8th grade when my Dad’s custom plastics were made!
Ripley was Spayed
Hopefully having a neutered kitty-cat kitten soon, Earth Mother Moon, seeing ice cream with a spoon!
When I wake up at noon, I drink the 1% chocolate milk very soon (before my Meds, gazing upon Ember, I try to swoon, even though she’s a mom, I don’t try for long, the days of Carissa — oh how I miss her! Arriving early and leaving soon after, there’s a Barn nearby with tattoo’d rafters,
When the poem is done, I have possibly a lot of mine money in TD Bank, where I don’t know the sum… of my wealth and my health and big chest a la the pushup’s I can do like 20-30 in sets, leaving me bereft up top- wearing thong flip-flops to the toes, who knows?
The poem comes to a close!