When plunging headlong into a sea of blue
cocooned courtesy amidst
abed of undulating
fielding nascent stripes
flapping in the wind
while amidst abed analogous
to roseate dawning early light
inconvenient truths
find me comfortably ensconced
all the while earth in the balance,
yet approaching a tipping point
when missiles fly
wreaking havoc upon civilization
and its discontents where Albert Gore
did allude to about a quarter century ago
whereby the madding crowd
distracted courtesy olfactory aromas
issuing forth from culinary cuisines a
scrumptious soupçon in the kitchen
but...broth here whar art thou
echoes within the sounds of silence
cannot arouse rapt supine body of mine
cut from the same cloth
as forefathers/mothers
ripped from the scarred enslaved
innocently chaste (and chased) souls
lacerated with blood red stripes
stitched into the fabric of vested gentry,
nevertheless I cannot stopper laments
courtesy abhorrent nightmare scenario
haunting spectre jimmies
spooky ghosts in the machine
rampaging analogous to malware
quiet riot of naughty bits
running amuck haunting spirits
of grateful dead souls
courting revenge to sabotage
in cahoots with grim reaper
mad as Sam Hill for diatribes
and genocide of storied
glorified white washing.
Analogous notion
of my former Caesar salad days
waning physical energy,
(and slowly but surely
inevitably ebbing peppiness
becoming an old fart)
compared to the scenario
as Old Glory herself
gets tattered into shreds
while weathering a battle
for soldiers of fortune
to lay claim
to a stake of some wasteland),
where victors risk life and limb
to plant the flag pole
into patch of fought
over heavily bombed turf
laden with land mines
suddenly tripped a figurative wire
within me noggin
how easily and quickly
I get tired and weather beaten
yours truly felt after
walking around the perimeter
of the Spring Valley Y.M.C.A.
(accompanied by an assigned
Recovery Coach from Creative Health)
found yours truly winded
and at sixty six years
my body needed to sit down
about halfway around the track,
and begged Abigail Quinn Selbst
to carry me the rest of the distance.
No way would this trooper wannabe
be fit for the outdoors
such as climbing every mountain
cuz he would fumble across the scree,
but I would go bumpity bump bump
upon me scrawny hi-nee even
after quaffing a glass
of extra fortified Nestlé,\'
which surname based
on his family\'s coat of arms
features a bird on a nest,
which references the family name,
meaning \'nest\' in German circa 1868.