The poet as more than that is real. Outside the private elitist world poets engage with reality. This is nothing new actually. There nothing is real, nothing is true. Its beautiful and weird and has a fine net. You fish for meaning and it makes sense, till the critics do it again.

The show must go on, or will it, with so much sound and fake fury, the stage is nearly ready to collapse, the voice of truth rattles a death note, as the medics dance in cirles, they find only a leaf, they see holes, mold and wonder, is there a real cure?

Men to reveal chiseled chins and arrow like noses while wearing trendy jump suits.

Entering the ranks, they flew fast into the enemy lines, bones rattling with iron wings, she is like an iron wing, bearing a broken wing, the plains are ghost towns, the wind is haunted, out come the owls, wisdom has gone foul.

Russia does not understand the Ukrainian Military, and that will be the deciding factor.

If I fade on the net, I am passing though to new science.

I like my legs and feet, to walk, to see the trees and lake, no flowers then, they point the bloody gun, but never am I undone, never a machine, I still move with passion, forward run. Your friends cheer you to freedom and transformation, We can work it out or die trying, perhaps the summer of love, the end of factories and behavioral schools, and I wonder if progress just shreds numbers. Suddenly the dark tower falls with a land of goodness moving into Utopian vision of humanity.

Time travel has happened in Russo-Ukraine war. This means the world might have time jumps for a long time. Science fiction or bs? You decide.

With all these new sexualities popping up the new one is; HOT FOR CHOCOLATE!

There are better places for crazy dog, but I haven't found him. Perhaps he is outside, eating grass, and vomiting. Later on the dog turns into smooth jazz, and perhaps God?