So Do You Have Rickets?? I have ROCKETS!

Testing, Testing 1 2 3 Testing, Testing 1 2 3

Sprockets packed with the finest little tinsel to splay the wares, where to go? Being bringing the of course, non-alcoholic wine, that’s fine, and subsequent to fray the floss of a mighty red lip gloss, clean and gleaming so ever so steeply luminous what the Cardinal Pink, it doesn’t stink—no in fact its flamboyant fragrances of fine trimmings all around, feet toughly trouncing the below, the low, so soundly solid—I drink the Oil of Olives—for real, its zero “carb” appeal, sinking the slurry liquid oil, the lubrication on the tongue, gulp, and then it’s done, and with to tell you, NOT FIBBING—I remember filling my mouth with the “Extra Virgin” olive oil, the freshest apple in the yard, and this Apple MacBook Pro—yeah it’s fast and yeah it’s quick, that the video I watch the most it’s thick, and I feel those lovey-dovey emotions of raw skin within, so Sultry, the breasts look lovely... I’m all about nipples, and have you ever heard of “Tribbing” ??? I forget what it is, this while it’s probably filthy!

Gritty Getty Gasoline—93 octane octangular with October’s silver grams—that’s in ounces, call it $23 per ounce I go through https://www.jmbullion.com for my precious metals, like flowers with easy ’n’ breezy bank robbers heisting gold bars—I have three—of 1 gram per bar, a tiny trinket like what I keep with me, a gram of Platinum or Palladium—I forget which it is—that Palladium was previously the most expensive but not anymore, I call upon the Senior Señor el capitan to take it to the can withstand massive amounts of $Bitcoin money, hunny bunny, perfected pieces of instantaneously calibrated computer mechanics, with a big shout-out to Israel and Palestine, they’re at it again

Like “Oh man!”

Christian Sands (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tmcOFp5__jQ) when the oil be flowing, Trump’s “Drill Baby, DRILL!” And let the fossil fuel breathe, huffing Duster like Dave, no way-  as I pave my path with something to float on, like a Raft in the lovely locality of Charlton, MA with Mom and Dad and being of Baker Pond — so call the Baker and call THE BANKER, slim vim (my Portfolio: https://seekingalpha.com/account/portfolio/summary?portfolioId=61281262) CALL MY BROKER (D.B.) it’s him I want to see and feel his miraculous powers—candle-stick stocks for trading) on and off the “Label” of blue Johnny Walking waking and morning sunshine shaking hands with the wifey—maybe, what might be?—I think so as I snuggle up to one of my many Ho’s I knows I keep them handy with figures of granny panties showing lines, me so fine, and elated with the hockey puck, or me, the Honkey Fuck (!!!) sayeth the man of skin-tone darkness, to grab the harnessed energy of what-so is to be-  more modern day on a Monday, 24/7 slavery! (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mQ2-SkLfldk) and sadly the African folk need to feed, need, mixed with 18th century drinking “Mead”—being an early alcohol... different from XXX “Moonshine” so fine, wheat and mixed in starch, like I was born in March #20 days into the first day of Springing into sunshine—forget I mentioned “Moonshine” for it was shown to me while it shone ever so bright, I saw the light of a need to get SOBER SINCE 2016!

Mom and Dad and others, I’m sorry I was a mean drunk—albeit I’ve always been a Hunk—summertime shucking corn on the Cobb (Tuning WRX) better be buttered, the old man stuttered while getting Welfare Assistance, and the insurance upon a junky old Oldsmobile that could use a tune-up, I say, when what are you doing today? That bright Southern Sun ( ) of who’s the junkie now? Don’t have a cow! buzzed haircut to timber those falling trees, D.’s knees doing push-up’s when what I say adds up, piddle paddle, hop in the saddle while feeling good...

It’s all good in the hood—but not Africa... Rev. A., yeah I don’t want my money feeding minorities except the Domestic dark skin, dark soul, drunk drank, now SOBER SINCE 2016! I’m so glad to say, because bringing in alcohol 2013 to 2015 that got old, and the drinks were someone’s times warm or cold, either way I’m sold, Soldier, (SOBER) to drink Diet Soda, my counterpart on the counter’s top OR in the refrigerator—1% chocolate milk—see ya later, go fitting into those jeans, fighting them up the legs, males have a “peg” on what of Peter, I didn’t let him smoke my reefer MMJ from NETA being now for DELIVERY—that would be one of my dreams—to have ample smokeable THC and CBD “Flower”—that green stuff, have it? I must first leave “Averte” where I am now and have been, call it here, call it my legitimate ownership, “John Deere” Stocks—I squawk and bullshit walks and I speak every day of thine week—with me fairly strong, but never singing a song...

I have this book here which I choose not to read it now—because I’m running a little late picking up The Qur’an I’m 7/10th’s into developing the vim to finish it!

I wrote this poem:

ConstantGardener

I drank the sea

I drank the sea

it did not stir

it did not spin

or send its white horses dancing

there was no spittle on its evolving tongue

its language was my own

its wandering was my own

we sat we rose 

      together

and by the shore we waved

by the shore we waved 

👋