Wednesday, September 13, 2017

Yappi issues are not sport

So, dude, you egotistical genius of sport,
mmmnnn, yea you're fucked. You lied an
cheated to the little people that you hate,
and now you are a dead giant beached.

Gabby squealed... (yappi if you're indigenous).

There is nowhere to run and hide, the caverns
are empty and champagne is nowhere to be found.
Your fancy yacht has run aground. Dratzo, ratzo.

So, have you thought about living amongst the riff-raff?
We have ropes hanging from our windows, slanted in tandem.
Oh, don't you love a good noose... crazy goose. Soggy
bottom boys are sleepy in the galleys, Mayhem is mayday
with no man at the helm. What? you gonna cry now?
Sail on sailor... Celon is waiting for the Sri Lanka version.

That your mama should slap you coward of The Sport.
Be a good sport... no, be a good egg. Fragile. Question,
Challenge, and Wonder... the ropes are slanted outside my
vision, two in tandem... I could pull you down easily.

I'd rather smirk and watch... as you assess the window damage
you created. You know me... i'll not be a sore loser. Dude, my
yap will not cease. Your ropes are a long lost metaphor of
the sinking ship. Man overboard... mer-people gaze as the
innocent dance and sing, hitching a ride on the cloud passing by.

The meek will inherit the earth, the worms will dig deep
in their unearthly mirth. Life carries on for life's little sport.

Yappi's throw words like sand in the face of life's meaning...
a rope thrower ship that's a sinking disgrace. Dis-Cern,
yea it's bleeding all over the place. God-spark is Unity
all over your face. Like a good egg. Not easily erased.

I rest my yap issued case.



Thursday, September 7, 2017

A strong woman is not a wimpy man

...here comes Irma, hot off the press. packing a mean and mighty wind
185, can you give me a 185, yes, devastating and heading for the mainline,
like a hot load of junk.

she's a doozy before she ever got started, drying up the water supplies, and ply wood and things of the trade... for gruff men who know how to secure the
borders of this land ... Merica, sounds foreign and feminine, but whatever dude.

She's coming like the devastation that is the female ilk... and she's the enemy.
Isis, and hurricanes and wimpy men hurrihims... like andrew, and harvey. Member floyd? not manly enough. Not a mention.

Now Irene I remember,  as the tennis courts became my water front Venice
thanks to a river named Raritan. And Sandy, wow, what a blowout... the winds were as evil as a crazy bat blowing a cigar from hell. There was praying for the
sport of that one. The boardwalk was ruined... but hey, we still got Ice Capades in Jersey.

No, those were true rages and here she comes again. I am watching the warriors and the hype, and weary weather girl who has seen enough and will not comply. The men are bringing it home, like a sporting event. Water in bottles everywhere, but  not a drop to drink on grocery shelves for the riff raff. Moms are pissed. We see the manipulation. Not on our watch soldier... she would slap her own son
for such a perversion of justice. Yea, she would.

Irmageddon is coming all ye of little faith, God is pissed off again and having
another tantrum. Please ladies, stifle your giggles, it's not funny. No it's not.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Our children are watching, and it really isn't nice to try and fool Mother Nature. Fool. Take off your wimple... you look ridiculous poser man.