Parental Advisory

HEAR YE. HEAR YE. HERE WE
PROPOSE TO POSIT PROSE POETRY
FORMING FORMS OF CONTINUOUS CONNECTIVITY
TO COMMUNICATE CONSIDERABLE
CONTEMPLATIVE REFLECTIVITY.


SIMPLY PUT, WE POSE THIS WHERE
PROSE POETRY IS WHAT YOU’LL HEAR
WHEN WONDERING WHERE THE TIME WENT
WHILE READING SUCH RHYME WONDERMENTS
AS OFT WE’VE WROUGHT, AND REVEALED THUSLY
EACH WHIT OF WIT WRITTEN HIERONYMOUSLY.

Hi, My Name Is


Call me Hieronymous. Make me famous. If you can,
tell the world about this really silly little man 
who writes for self-amusement. You can use these words to show 
exactly how he’s acting, so your audience will know 
how stupid such a cupid-hearted person should be viewed -
as having no sense of tenseness, like some righteously relaxed dude.


The Garden

Read words written softly for those hearing hard. In 
a moment, a Man, naked, runs through The Garden. 
Okay, so the truth is he isn't quite nude. 
He bears boxers, briefly, so as not seem rude. 
The Garden is properly private, in a sense, 
but of course it’s quite easy to see through the fence. 

If you look past the fig tree, through timbered split rails 
you will see little dogs minus most of their tails, 
and a man running still, on his hill, talking silly. 
Look if you want, please don't point at his ... Will he 
or won't he? The question remains 
regarding his guarding. The Garden pertains 
to all the odd things a man can't compromise. 

This much is certain, you needn't surmise 
there are things without which a man won't do.
Kept unto myself as I give mine to you 
in a word, just a whisper, this quieting sound:
For those hard of hearing, it’s hardly profound. 

We live among bandits, and burrowing hogs. 
Relating that extends this ideologue 
to show how we know to dispose them as such. 
We might not mind them, except for how much 
they damage good stuff; all our veggies and fruit. 
Were it only a few, we might not give a hoot 
but it isn't that simple. Excuse this small rant. 
THE HOGS AND THE BANDITS DESTROY THE WHOLE PLANT! 

So, rather than complain or get all intense 
resolve is our answer. At first came the fence, 
but that wasn’t enough to keep all varmints out. 
To find resolution, again, there's no doubt 
that is why I'm writing, so you'll understand. 

Protecting our garden, I’m only one man 
with one clear solution to rats in our yard. 
If you've followed along, then you know it's not hard 
to keep unwanted critters away from out back 
when you believe in Dog. We had three, Russells, Jack! 

Faith


All Brassica - brown, black and white,
grow wildly when exposed to light.
Imbued in each word you read
is a very small seed,
as I sow with my left hand, and write.



Testing

TEST. TEST. TEST. Is this thing on? 
Can you hear me? Have I gone 
completely, neatly, out of my mind? Did 
you see that right? You must be blinded 
by the shining bright lights. I see 
you blankly are staring back at me, 
just glaring at the words I'm writing 
here, saying things like this; inciting 
riots in the minds of those who 
choose this message to oppose. You 
might be one. I'm done with suspecting 
if my gift for interjecting 
such as this perverse dispersion 
is a left to right Conversion 
Table. Able minds will tell 
whether or not this is done, Well? 



Understanding Trump - The Fool

The English word Trump derives from the Italian word Trionfi, a 15th century Italian card game derived from a 14th Century Italian poem, I Trionfi, by Francesco Petrarch. The Italian word Trionfi derives from the Latin word Triumphus, which means 'triumphant victory procession'Trionfi was the game for which Tarot cards were designed, and the numbered Trump cards in a Tarot pack depict a 'triumphant victory procession', the kind of 'triumphant victory procession' about which epic poems, like I Trionfi, are written. They also make an excellent House of Cards.

-0-

When people say, 'This Trump's a Fool!’
please forgive them. It's just not cool
to jump on Trumps. It’s essentially senseless,
since such shows Trump wit defenseless.
Depicted here as Tarot’s hero,
so you’ll know a true Trump Zero:





Portrayed as empty, a simpleton in suspended reality,
he's a co-conspiring victim of synchronicity;
like Janis Joplin sang about in 'Me and Bobby McGee',
so Foolishly prospecting for possibility,
while trusting in the mystery of providential divinity.