Mrs. Direction

Mrs. Direction
Let us see if a point can be perceived or if a conceived then deceived purpose can skim the surface
Rehearse this
A man gives out gum on a street corner to unsuspecting youth screening truths and screaming sooths later on the children turn old and ultimately die, how does the gum relate to this phenomena can we say indisputably that there is no relation? How does the sensation of this query busting nation station this quotation?
If the same man who gave out gum added the sum of twenty nine clips of ammunition how would this decision affect any derision he would receive from the bereaved associates of the old dead youth?
Question: has one lost sight of the plight of this poem, did you see it, free it? From its verbal turpitude, what is its mood? Preposterous attention retention
Moving again
If one was a just cause for maximizing joy devising diversions, not to cast aspersions, but would this amount to perversions of equality; would we see downcast glee for all of society besides those we raise with on selective propriety. How does this affect those youths, what truths are worthy news?
Problems with poetics, judging by aesthetics, is the gleaning; word cleaning, letter leaning and metaphoric meaning. Start your weaning from those obscene, pristine floors and shores of flotsam phonetics.
Will this bill with its fill of confusion and a profusion of a literary obituary to some stationary turning of observant learning. Abandon all hope that you may cope and wring this rope enough to slope that feeling that your mind is reeling from scrabbling to grasp hold and enfold the meaning of your poetic gleaning
So now the man holds a plan that plots a scan of the surrounding wasteland where the old youth from lines told how the gum was roughly the sum of their degradation; how their station of elation at the realisation that sucrose crusted satiation was grasped and how they gasped their being out, so devout to recount that, that man, fiendish plan, ragged ran them to the ground crunching sound we have found.
Have you lost track of the mans’ meaning? Were you weaning it from this screening it, does it matter? Will this spatter of query evoke a theory that something is wanting from this flaunting of a literate barbiturate?
Suggestion: Curds of words congeal to seal an unreal feel from your mind (un-confined if refined or designed)
Remember the man, give a scan of the piece, does his lease to decease the youth and grease the truth have anything to do with (tell me you sleuth) the true intention of this invention (does my constant chiding and verbal biding seem like confiding to a dying soldier, making fading bolder) now a question that’s older
If one sees that intellect frees a monkey from his cage, where does the rage take centre stage? When the primate starts to salivate and questions fate, brings up debate with his brother will the other return courteously or placate curiosity with ferocity; what atrocity exists in the natural exchange of a corpus deranged (or changed) through wrath and attack of tool touting smack, would you hit back? How does it bind your hands with demands, those civil stands and contrabands upon abuse profuse and clues to environmental ethics of: no ethics in the slightest
Now the brightest among us may perk your ears and shimmy round fears that the careers of the analyst or canonist are within striking distance; push your pistons to reach the breach and please, please teach me what it is that is in this line that is so divine, lest you malign my poor design or will resign to how little we all pretend we don’t know
Won’t you show
Your ignorance off
Flaming moth
Regardless, if we charge this problem directly expectedly we will run into obstacles if our grammar stalls them will that eliminate or simply inseminate the issue, I wish you could see past this fresh true big and blue sky, we all die, even when we try to sidestep, to except this confusion, a profusion of illusion non-conclusion and diffusion among this rabble, will they dabble with gods prods and tooling clods; hack my mods to free us from the kingdom of deadly sum.
Did you forget that man, another scan, his age is past, he was cast a stone, alone. Will you condone, his holy zone of hell, how swell this idea this welling and wheeling flee, flee from obvious glee too bright to see. Please see past the stones we cast, have a blast, on the house, let your brain chase that souse of mind we may find that we have climbed above the maze, wanton craze of thoughtful phase let the plays part their ways with the intellectual ineffectual bleating of hearts past beating and thoughts past heating. Don’t turn back on the one way track, choice is as illusory as any other carry of decision, face derision bravely, make provision insanely, “let us all join hands and sing the-“fuck-off prayer. You left me under stair to rot, you bought me a gift for yourself, left hope on the shelf, serve yourself, great divine fuckery.
Did we veer off the path? Do the math if one motive plus all the confusion (nay, a profusion of delusion) providing the collusion of sensation and relation to our habitation. Again, meditation on origin flaws (gleaning meaning) mindfully claws. Gummed down gunner, let led fly, do your best to truthful ply, sooth say lie, make meaning cry. The world unfurled all its derision, on our decision (make the incision, into the pale, pressed to the veil) forcing wail, and planned derail. Meant to split attention gaze, and motive flays, whittle down the days and all the ways we thought we knew to live.

So where are we left?
Totally bereft? Have we cleft, interpretation from sensation?
Great elation, at the pieces termination?
What of the man, where can he stand, if we did sand his external, revealing infernal deportment or an assortment of the court meant villainy. Distil in me the meaning, this screening will convey, some might say; “There is no way this comes to much, a verbal buffoon with a linguistic crutch.” Maybe those who look too hard will only manage to retard the meaning that I do intend, but let us not ever pretend that plain of face is not to be. It stares at you as it stares from me.

Long twitchy eyes, surprise, surprise they won’t stare at bare reality;
Seeking only the kaleidoscopic wonderment of un-living earths.