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Onoff the Cuff

I believe that poetry is and of is was were have has been of as one pretenses a 
poetic practical pompous, pro  (p) ransomedramatical  postenses
pretending to prose promise a 
predictive premise primatory practicum politicallty
polishing practcoriam process of primary  
preliminary postures pragmatic promulgates
telling the ta ta tumultuous tillo tales of tawdry 
banal blog lists calling me to quali-quantify the reso-resolutes
resounding in resilient quo quotients that bear a 
breach bridgeborn badge billed
barometer bearing broad billboard
catatonic catashrospies creating caustic crill 
coffinistic coiffures canonizing
socio unsettling  leo linguistic lies in a somewhat
lovevoid  livid liquiditoria regal
ransom based regalia resonating
rawbone residual retinal real time 
tombosoties transitioning with
toying transient trio tide tooth
crass cavity craino creep mandibulo master mildew 
mold molecular mamsy-pamsy sillopsuedo master of 
ever me present I , me , mine, maestro 
sitting back and looking at the world as a place to be
not to be, hope to be, wish to be, be to be, in the 
proper primer of humino yesnomenclatureculture of that which is u 
me us our belief sem radical of our prim-ordeal sociodiscontentselfevident
irrelevant mean fullness, to countercure our quick/quack quotient
umbrella upbringing to say do write feel text tank athink
all that is emo exit everpresent to keep the fecal faces free of 
founding father status inquo man although time is time in place. 
Mindfulness is a mute place ill unattended by sociocrap everlasting. 
Treasure travel inviting innate needs netherly nodding to the primo positive
practitudes of acoustic ancillary annotated awareness,  allowing all annuities
ancient archaic to willfully wind wind waveringly wish away intrinsic id-ideas.
It it is what u want it it to be, say, scroll, live, plural, self to self. Use it, lose it, 
share it,  beware it, con-cure it, it. Know it  it's criminal capitol is wary for before
u know it it, life it before it its u, and  will its it and
ego ale all eek out the precious profit of its itdom idiocracy illusionary in its 
illogical inness so mad made as not to gravely gravitate ungracious griefs
upon your its it.  
scary huh. Karma it, Big Daddy.

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