• Kara in Analogue

    Against the almighty grain,
    we abstain from anything actual, but
    in all actuality, amazing things arrest all.
    Beatniks breeze by, brewing berated banter,
    brimming brownstones, blurbs, blogs,
    containing nothing like the clever canter.
    Don't dog downtrodden degenerates, disarming
    everything is everything, marked in everlasting
    eggshell,
    easing everglades worth of everlasting empire-swell.
    Forget forbidden passages, passing forsaken
    fruit, forfeiting flag football, for fathers
    forgoing fine futures.

    God loves god-willing, go getters
    that get graceful,
    gleaming glory by the plateful,
    while the heathens heat debates of
    haunted holidays by the hate-full.
    Ignoring inevitable irony illustrates
    irate inane idiots,
    justifying jugheads juggling disjointed
    Jezebels and false Patriots.
    Klan members don't get kites stuck
    in such mental strings,
    lingering, languishing, laughing about
    the words between.

    Morning makes mad mothers
    duck beneath the covers,
    no naked Neophyte nipping,
    never nay-saying another.
    Otherwise outdated outsiders
    can catch a foothold,
    possibly paralyzing people
    perfecting parenthood.
    Question my motives,
    quantify all of my queries,
    resign rhetoric, rightfully,
    righteously render me ridiculous,
    silently slithering, slaking, stating
    my hand in all that's set before us.

    Take me to the tarmac, tied down,
    tested, and true.
    Underneath umbrellas, undone, and unglued.
    Verily, I wait for valediction
    from a vocal, vexed, verbose,
    vox-populi, vehement
    about my most certain demise.

    Without worry, we wait,
    wanting wordsmiths war-bound,
    x-ing out the failures,
    yet yacking yards of young-truth.
    Zeroing in on a zenith, wide and clean,
    while I scream your name
    atop this rusted mezzanine.