grievous immoderation ,
satiric and fanatical .
their tenaciousness can invite
inflationary feminization ;
hallelujah !
voider
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • August 3–9, 2026)
the tenaciousness of civilization is fanatical and inflationary ! I tippytoe through .
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • August 3–9, 2026)
footless from fanatical factual feminization
I invite immoderation into increasing inflationary integer
my meditation melange momentously moresque
tippytoe through those twisty tulipa
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • August 3–9, 2026)
Expertly I sit down,
the recliner jumps to my command.
The friends of George Washington are here
they come bearing paw paw and cloud berries.
I am a native morning in Appalachia,
there, where all is fair,
peace tailspins out
as two plastic flamingos mate
in a squeaky rubber pool.
I tune in to watch another mind.
King Kong is bouncing up and down
using my brain for a trampoline.
Yesterday's wine bottle is empty again
I pour myself out;
sip those sweet red puddles of existence.
The founding fathers are protesting
the inflationary cost of saltpeter,
the flying fusty powder of their wigs
makes King Kong sneeze.
George Washington is taking
a well-earned nap.
The recliner rears up
ready to get going somewhere -
anywhere will do.
All wars are local now.
If across an ocean
a butterfly dies in a hail of machine gun fire,
a moth here expires in the light.
Oil gases-up inflationary angst.
Cocaine lines grow longer,
Fentanyl funerals explode.
Mobs move up to the front line
where the mindless
scream their battle hymns.
Most war-mongers could not find
a war torn Ukraine town, or their local
V A center on a map.
Hawks gather to pump up pride
then hide
when the fan drips s...
A Russian conscript writes home
“the locals’ hate us” he tells his mom’.
His mom lives in a shack in Vladivostok,
it’s still too local,
she sees the ripple effects
of burning tanks in her dreams.
~ In these inflationary times ~
Some are into precious metals
Others, out of them
Even poets face tough times
~ unless they write a gem
Talking head simulation
Paves my road for me
Posing plentiful blessings
Preaching a truth I must come to....
Im rotting on the wooden precipice
They want me to clean up their lawn
I'm deteriorating from lack of integration
Because love is inflated with clown faces
Reach into the pockets to prop up the game
Fortune is all self-gain
Humanism is self-ideology
Newly authorized to sell toothpaste to minors
What became of community bridging effort?
Did it collapse under the weight
Stip mining, then outsourcing for foreign tongues?
That cannot see the workings of this heart
I had to pay for a new pair of shoes
When I went shopping today,
I asked politely but they refused,
To freely give them away.
I guess that’s just the way of things,
And everything comes with a fee.
It’s a shame about the strife it brings,
Because money don’t grow on a tree.
But what if it did?
Think of the inflationary implications,
When the leaves begin to drop.
And all of the economic ramifications,
When the falling leaves won’t stop.
Why we’d be ankle deep in currency,
Enough around to burn.
My Maple tree would carry me
There’d be no need to earn.
There’d be a line of kids around the block,
Just wanting to rake my yard.
I’d keep them moving around the clock,
Then bags of leaves I’d guard.
I’d take my leaves to the bank,
To make a deposit at the local branch.
They might think that it’s a prank,
But I’m saving for an oak tree ranch.
Donning his bright yellow rainslicker slow
For it was wet, cold, and wind did blow
That old slicker was a gift from an ol' employee
The other side looked like the Marlboro cowboye
The provider felt a strong sense of responsibility
So out into the elements and night he did go
Bills to pay and Christmas presents needed, so
Shoulders bent against the wind one more day
The job he faced again, struggling against
Cost of inflationary trends, needs the job to end
Our deficeit getting higher, prices still rage
Elderly though he be, he loves his family
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