Parental Advisory

Hear Ye. Hear Ye. Here we propose to posit prose poetry
forming a form 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 are wrought, and revealed thusly,
each whit of wit written Hieronymously.

Slow Down!

Don’t take offense. It makes sense when I say
‘Retard’ is a verb, and it means ‘to delay’. 
Slow down! I have found that the sound of the word 
“Retard” has been guarded against, but that’s absurd. 

You’re going too fast, and this is your last warning!
So, before I go, please let me say, Good morning 
to you who may heed what you read here. In fact, 
once you’ve been retarded a while, please come back.
...

Entropic topics tend to be more 
caustic when social faucets pour 
streaming data. So beaming faces 
space out here. Of all the places 
we could be, here we see clearly. 
As I write, you might well hear me 
say hooray! I'm so glad you're listening!
It’s as if your beams were glistening 
here where nearly no one comes, 
because I paused to sound this dumb. 

I think I like my bike with wheels,
because ... [a pause] ... of how it feels 
upon my bum, like some big hand. 
When paused, I’ve cause for a kick stand. 

So, paused here, kicking not; 
withstanding blowing winds again,
I’m demanding nothing more or less than stress.
So let these provided syllables caress
where collided thoughts are brought to fruition,
pending the ending of this writer's rending. 



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