if you stocked up on toilet paper. . .

or invested in toilet paper stock. . .

you’re

s*ittin’ pretty

right about now. . .

I consulted flower

oracles

—petal’ing hope—

peered into polished crystals

— factory-formed orbs—

scanned sky & stars

—horoscopes imagined by better-paid staff writers—

flipped cards

—playing tarot solitaire—

asked young people

—who didn’t have to be nice—

and old people

—who did—

I agonized over monosyllables

—chapter-length in analysis—

believed in belief

—then didn’t—

forged faith

—then couldn’t—

dreamt darkest dreams

—in dissolution—

and in that abyss,

fostered

—reason—

Apocalyptic horses

have left the barn

–too late to close that door!

Gates, too

proving once & for all the daily  Apple

didn’t keep spin doctors away after all

–with the exception of PPO’s & their fabled live receptionists–

and the ultimate Abyss looms

(already woven in time)

as the World churns

–social media froths–

glutted as Romans

disgorging from vomitoriums

–en masse—

strapping on

newsfeed

to stress-feed

the populace

–only 1% of whom

have paper to waste

–to throw into the Void

(zuck that Fuckerberg, anyway)

oh, what

Wicked

Web

Weaves

(what! what?)

in patchwork of infinite

Bermuda Triangles

–a Nowhere Land

where simply Everyone is. . .

falling in & out of holes

like

so many!

whack-a-moles

–the number 1 question

a Jeopardy stigma-

Ta!

(oh Jesus—not you)

That’s the wrong answer!

Or at least phrased incorrectly. . .

don’t you know semantics are

simply Everything?

(what is Everything?)

–are magic mantras

stirring the pot,

feeding the frenzy,

circling the schools

–Nobody entered,

yet Everyone attends

most fail. . .

are failing

–flailing about in a world gone mad

chased by horses

all too aware

of mystery meat enterprises

–a feat brought to you & facilitated & available for 2 day delivery

(by the Net)

. . .

Yes, that same Net

. . .

that Net that renders

escape

from the Abyss

–impossible.

A fairer day

In Faraday

–so faraway

from web. . .

the weave

that traps

–in bits & apps–

in text &

tweets &

threads

But microwave

in kitchen–

staves

–off EM waves

from soul. . .

inside it’s me

I ask—

not Jeeves

–not Google

or

Echo

on plate

within,

I sit & spin

a winsome weave

unseen. . .

no post nor pin

required—

since

this hotspot

has no screen

and

now new

stream’s

all mine—

it seems

my dreams

are worn–

not torn. . .

in 2 by face

book posts—

in place

just me

(and some popcorn)

she was a story yeller

ONCE!

TWICE!

(and you know)

THRICE!

upon a time

and he,

a hard-to-her

musician

–lyric whisperer

–refrain mumbler

–and mime of melodies on tiny violin

(predating air guitar)

she was soothed by such

&

he inspired

(in the manner of iron lung)

inspired

–dogged attention

to detail most missed

(out of hearing frequency)

details

she played back

AT HIGH VOLUME

–guessing at beat

–tempo

–pitch

and reason

(for composition)

she wove staff

&

knit yarns,

CONVERTING hum TO CRESCENDOS

ever after.

listen my children

of a lesser

god in heaven’s

name what is your goal

posts can only take you so far

& away with social media blitz
 

krieg is just war

after all

. . .

in good time

of your life

lessons are learned

professing them are extra

credit to those inclined to listen

upping the ante

up in the manner of quality

–cntrl alt delete

–cntrl alt delete…

God gives with both hands

–to some–

a select fewer than you’d think

and if you’re reading this

I’m guessing you missed that

blue light special

(God isn’t on WordPress; you can tell by the lack of hands-on help)

To others He throws a bone

–a coupla’ bones, sometimes

(witch)

if you’re lucky

–and tenacious—

–and well-heeled to start–

can add up

(by 7’s)

to a Big Win

Still others

the gifting

(to put it politically delicately)

is delegated

to his crew of elves

–equipped w wings

but less then He–

they’re

><

this close

to flying monkeys

the rest of the Lot

He consigns

to his Doppelganger

downstairs

–a helluva lot of stairs—

and Shades away from Krampus,

He lets that Yang

dole out the goodies

–or would that be baddies?

a little too cute, I suppose,

and those recipients are

anything but

–a lot more than you’d think–

and if you’re reading this

–you have to wonder…