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We who have ceased our childhoods choose

To put such childish things aside

As self-indulgent bad-for-yous

Like put-down jokes that slur/deride

And drawn tobacco into lungs

That bystanders will breathe as well

To climb adulthood’s ladder’s rungs

And make a Heaven of a Hell

.

We also need some leaders who

Are not to parasites beholden

Which parasites suck killing goo

That turns the beacon sun ungolden

We need to oust denounce unseat

The big shot bully would-be kings

That growing up become complete

With birthing Mother Earth Who sings

Today is my brother Harold’s 73rd birthday.

I talked to his wonderful spouse Terry earlier this morning. The plan is for me to meet them tomorrow at the Olive Garden nearest where they live. It will be there and then that I present Harold with a small gift bag containing these two ceramics works of mine, one functional, one whimsical.

Harold doesn’t do social media to speak of, so I have no fear that I am spoiling the surprise. It tickles me to think that people in the Etherverse will know in advance that this will happen, just as if this were a surprise party and they were hidden in the living room waiting for him to come home.

Happy Birthday, Brother.

we are as decent and honest as our leaders, God help us

so now we are neither decent nor honest

we are Hellbound

with blooded hands and dreams of the malnourished children we knowingly abandoned

the weight of our recent myriad sins

heavy as a calving edge of Antarctica

sliding into the cold sea

some of us fight

but ineffectively so far

our waving signs no match for the punches in the face delivered by mayhem-gleeful malicious, masked fools and goons

who round brown folk up

for the express purpose of fucking them up with extreme prejudice

it is true that we would be better off without a small few of them

but the powers that be act as if due process is a mosquito

to be waved off or smashed

and so they scoop em up and ship em out and see what happens

.

fight harder friends

stay decent and honest and unhateful

undo this doom

before it is ratified

we are in the twilight of manual labor

and the work i do slicing tomatoes will dry up sooner or later.

but till it does I put on six gloves–

vinyl, cut-resistant mesh, vinyl–

and with my left three-gloved hand I pluck a well-washed tomato from a container,

place it stem-orificed down on the runway of the nonmotorized tomato slicer,

and with my elbow tucked in, in the manner of a boxer delivering a body blow to an opponent, ram the tomato through a parallel set of blades remindful of open venetian blinds,

while my right hand waits on the other side of the blades

to catch the freshly subdivided tomato.

that’s the plan, anyway. in a perfect world with ripe yet firm tomatoes and a slicer with new blades, it is a lovely process.

today was unlovely.

all tomatoes are not created equal. most in a case i was slicing were overripe. more than one of this batch also had skins cut-resistant enough so that the imposed pressure of blades-ramming caused a rupture, jamming the tomato in the blades and spraying juice and seeds.

one tomato had the temerity to spit in my eye.

halfway through my shift i changed aprons, the sprayscape looking like something done on canvas by one of the lesser abstract impressionists.

i finished my shift, drove home, and shed tomato-redolent clothing, but would not be surprised if my hair retained some of the plant-based fragrance, even though I wear a bouffant hair net on the job.

but it is honest work…declaims the Tomatoman.

some Republican lawmakers were gloaty yesterday

they thought they had won

because what they called “the big, beautiful bill” got shoehorned into american history

.

they failed to realize that what they won

was future ignominy

shame

scorn

.

they voted against we the majority of people

and they voted for the tawdry gimmegimmegimme of those who think having more than they could possibly spend in five lifetimes entitles them to more

they have trampled on the flag that represents liberty and justice for all

and historians will note this

.

The America of Liberty and Justice for All IS Beautiful

just as those who have forsaken her are u g l y

Tomorrow a “Big Beautiful Bill” will be signed into law

It will enable parasitic moneybaggers to continue their bloodsucking behavior

It will take food from the mouths of hungry children and elders

It will make the attainment of quality healthcare suddenly nigh-impossible for more than ten million American citizens

And it will provide bonus incentives for mercenary kidnappers

∆∆∆∆∆

Its signing date coincides with the 249th anniversary of the publication of the Declaration of Independence, a date traditionally referred to as Independence Day

And it is generally accompanied by the ignition of all manner of fireworks

The noise makes some dogs trembled or hide or howl

The burnt gunpowder adds tons of Particulate matter into an already-befouled atmosphere

It is a glorification of explosive incandescence

And tomorrow it will be celebrating the full and wretched rekindling of tyranny

∆∆∆∆∆

It’s hard to watch fireworks when your head droops

With grief

A Serious Look at Language, with a Great Deal of Inadvertent Giggling and Smirking, etc.

The popular Scrabble-esque game Words With Friends

Permits many F-words,

But will not allow at least one.

Now, DILDO is obviously sexually connotative

But Words with Friends, as demonstrated above,

Allows its use.

I confess I blushed as I used it,

The more so since my opponent had a female name,

And I doubt if I have ever met or talked to her

In real life.

I have a real-life female friend

With whom I play WWF on a daily basis,

And sometimes our use of sexual words,

Though always strategic and never gratuitous,

Seems downright flirty.

The current President of the United States,

After having dropped bombs on faraway Iran

Without Congressional approval,

Dropped an F-Bomb while knowingly in view

Of recording devices, including video,

Because two countries were not doing

What he wanted them to do.

This may result in an increased proliferation

Of F-bombs amongst schoolchildren

For whom POTUS is, if not a role model, an excuse.

There is a book that permits me to call him

And his “Big, Beautiful Bill”

A thief

And his satchel of burglar tools.

The book is my Dictionary.

if you save up nickels in your jarred garage

to sell on a cruise–that, my friend’s, arbitrage

as long as the buyer’s sufficiently dense

as to give you per each in excess of five cents.

.

when acorns reach soil and there find safe harbor

a sapling may soon be enhancing an arbor

and if that safe arbor is somewhere in michigan

could it be an ann arbor arbor? we wish again.

.

a rhubarb’s a colorful stalk or a beef

in baseball when coaches and umps yell their grief

but both may be settled if they chance to try

addition of strawberries: sweet rhubarb pie.

.

the pluck of a syllable from its word-origin

may not be the best vessel to put your porridge in

but sure as my namesake’s a drummer named gary

it makes unchaotic the once…arb-itrary.

***

Life-historical note: I was named after a man my folks picked up hitchhiking in 1954. He had a pair of drumsticks with him and was demonstrating his drummer’s skill zanily in the back seat as he introduced himself as Gary Fromer the Drummer. Mom had a bun in the oven, me, and Mom and Dad found Mr. Fromer so personable and lively that they memorialized their encounter with him by naming me Gary. I later found out that he hung out with Lenny Bruce and also was briefly in a Stan Getz combo.

The bustard’s an exquisite fowl/With minimal reason to growl/He escapes what would be/Illegitimacy/By grace of a fortunate vowel. Winning entry from 10,000 entrants of a limerick contest judged by Isaac Asimov

sixteen pieces in a chess set but for color

and four and four and four and two and two

and sixty-four

and the answers of multiple-choice tests with perfect scores

but it is the near-identical

the not-quite-identical

that gives a field of flowers charm

that enriches speciation

that makes one coin worth a penny

and its near-twin worth a mint

ah mints

junior mints are corpuscular

andes mints are sandwiched planks

and there was a place called Luigi’s on sixteenth Street and Glendale fifty years ago

a delicatessen that sold french mints

and i would get some for my then-sweetheart

because she loved them and i loved her

.

isn’t it startling that a group of vastly different people can have identical names?

isn’t it more startling that you can view a group of vastly different people with identical names within seconds by conducting a search on that name and selecting the Images subset of the search?

or that by changing a t to a d

you change Mint to Mind?

and then ditch the d for an e

and you become Mine.

bwahahahaha!!!

(near-identical to bwajajajaja!!!)