the pyrrhic triumph of a taxonomy gone awry

i. can a minor struggle with a major classification go unpunished?

meanwhile, the electro-magnetic pulse is not a timeless adjective,
just a simple case of seeding the wolf before the wolf seeds you:

I shall never use it again,

unless, of course, it is required by your trowel point of need.

a papa-oom-mow-mow
a papa-oom-mow-mow

I shall walk now on haywire splinters of golden intent,
but, perhaps, more erstwhile than my careful voodoo friends:

there was something in the gumbo that defied digestion.

ii. reversing into paranoia has a calming effect

your every move is being watched by stalking eyes
that are alien to your nature because you are alien to their eyes.

there are periods of disgust that rattle the stalwart mesh
of blacked seamed matrix knots and the fish that got away:

I hear this sound everywhere I go.

iii. vanilla creams on a curb pebbled rose and gray

she plays her last hand of scarlet trump,
happiest, as always, when everyone else is not,

and delivering the pat percolation of a demonic smile-

beaten soundly by muddy hands into muddy deltas,
the inopportune chirps of the downy fledgling
could not hold the day the day that we imagined:

it was the funniest sound that I ever heard.