The nadir of insanity, is engendered by a
controlling
Humanity, who on impulses of awareness
of mortality in all fairness.) Does
Propulse their very thinking.? And with efforts always plinking.' Whilst in despair and never blinking, dazelled by much lighting, and daubed in cosmetics..Its all rather frightening, and might well effect actions of health and thought connection.' Always dealing and extruding confidence
As precluding any workable continuam there is great proclivity, to? To? I'll term it
' turbo-binning ' as the waste of all their intense-ity.. biights earth and heaven with monstrosity's there is no
end to in truth; just 'oddity's' A 1970s car i'm told fired away.? I
Fail to see there beauty.. Rather insecurity its somewhat sad.. I sense, just some thoughts today.' As lost in denial.' Of reality (and certain files?) Not to mention trials.. They tinker with vials..Containing whatever.? Will make them. Younger;
ever clever clever.? To me its real alien, and why direction is failing.'
Its a loop despair ' and deep fear it seems that that drives them to eventually no-where.'
Legend of the 2JZ
The Supra roars, a mythic beast,
MK4 legend put to the test.
With 2JZ heart, a symphony
of power unleashed, wild and free.
The twin-turbo whispers, a hungry growl,
as horsepower surges, taking its toll.
It dances and glides on asphalt ribbons,
a silhouette fleeting where passion resides.
The JDM icon, a cult’s desire,
A legend forged in automotive fire.
From street to track, it reigns supreme,
A masterpiece, a racing dream.
The 2JZ whispers a song of might,
a testament to engineering’s light.
The supra lives in every gear,
a timeless legend held so dear.
Go away! Go away! I'm never letting you in!
You're nothing but a walking, slimy, horny ball of sin
You let drugs use you up 'til you're bouncing off the walls
You're 21 years old! I'm 39 years old! You're killing me, Smalls!
Go fvck with people of your own minuscule age
You still have to play with baby witches - I'm a fvcking Mage
You're barely older than my own son
I'm way too far out of your league, hon
Didn't you get it the first 50x when I didn't answer for you?
You're creeping on me - being a proper stalker, dude
Seriously though, I haven't notified law enforcement yet
How about my entire existence you just magically forget?
I even paid you $25 to fvck off, once!
Go sit in that corner, child, wear that hat - DUNCE!!
I have no bloody use to ever see your pathetic face again
No, "AKA. Turbo," I don't want to be your friend
You're the kind of little boy who screws his friends' moms
Gross - "AKA. Turbo," everything about your existence is wrong
No wonder why you're homeless without a home
'Cause you won't respectfully leave people the fvck alone!
Global comfort risk adverse hesitant
Company pauses before launching investment
Robot arm responsive reset to turbo
Fills tanks in fish farm where millions will grow
Oyster opens to slime slicked pearl
Brave imbiber swallows storm sky striate urchin
Rocked on troughs, crest of ocean
Covers dubious with smooth smile caviar lotion
Second of February
Source Funds
Substance or alcohol abuse,
Number one.
Joins a gang and carries a
Gun.
Makes bad decisions,
Impulsive.
Appears nervous,
Often disruptive.
Irresponsible with life
And finances.
Takes a lot of risky
Chances.
High emotions, no emotions,
No in-between.
Always in trouble,
Can't get clean.
Inability to process the highs
And lows.
Running against the way the
Wind blows.
Completely shut down,
Overreacting.
Filled with doubt and
Self-loathing.
Inconsistent with no
Motivation.
Often ruins the family
Vacation.
Full blown mania,
Deep dark depression.
Super funny then
Full of aggression.
Takes everything and makes
It personal.
Always combative and
Confrontational.
Have problems paying
Attention.
Shows resistance to
Intervention.
CHILDHOOD TRAUMA SIGNS
Turbo 1904 ?
Florida is definitely in the USA
I’m kinda worried because Milt will soon be on his way
I found a map and studied it and found a ‘Melbourne’ there
I hope he gets the right plane or he could get quite a scare
So if Milt disembarks the plane and gathers up his clobber
I hope some Shiela doesn’t ask him, ‘How ya doing, Cobber!’
But fear not, Milton, if it happens, you’ll know what to do
Just dial zero, zero, zero, option eighty two
That’s should get a special secret agent sounding man
Just say the coded sentence which is simply, ‘I need Gran.’
Turbo Gran will meet you in her Speedy ice cream van
Her secret code will be to wink and say, ‘I need a man’
You say, ‘I need chocolate sauce, for chocolate sauce is best’
She’ll take you and your luggage and she’ll drop you at Key West
From there though, you’ll be on your own, for I must tell you that
They’ve got crocodiles and they’ll try to eat her cat
But Nitro-Cat will sort them out for he’ll know what to do
Which means that we can only hope those crocs do not eat you
Happy holiday Milt!
Turbo Gran’s Zimmer is right by her side
Her head is tipped back and her mouth open wide
Time was she saved every human alive
On land or in flight or a deep ocean dive
The armchair recliner impossibly old
Just get a new one, she’s often been told
She never spent money on night cream for wrinkles
All her spare cash went on sauces and sprinkles
Kids loved her ice cream, they also loved Gran
They barely believed that she fought like a man
But now she lies still, with the cat she likes best
Turbo and Nitro, two heroes at rest
But when her phone rings and it’s screen comes alight
She opens one eye and prepares for the fight
Thus, when the call comes, she stands firm and steady
It seems then, Dear reader, she’ll go when she’s ready.
12/3/2021
IF you think,
you’re a loser then you are,
IF you think,
I got this, then you’re a rock star.
IF you think,
I can't do this, you won't,
IF you think,
I will give it a try, then you don't.
IF you think,
it's all a waste of time,
IF you think,
your loyal to the ties that bind.
IF you believe,
there is a way out'
IF you think,
I can, then you doubt.
IF you think,
you can win you’re a winner,
IF you believe,
you can be saved then be a sinner.
IF you think,
you know, you truly believe,
IF you think,
you will, anything you can achieve.
IT all starts,
as a single thought,
Give it a try,
TAKE YOUR SHOT.
TURBO 1904
Menopause uggg
Adam was given work for his sin
Eve was given the privilege to produce kin
Never once was menopause mentioned
Who created this invention?
They say get an ablation, it’s the best thing since apple pie
You’ll stop bleeding and you don’t have to try
What they don’t tell you is, it doesn’t always work
But heck, the no cramping is a perk!!
Whatever!! It threw me right into the change
My life seems a little nuts in exchange
My kids think I’m lazy but in actuality I’m a lot crazy
I don’t sleep, and I stay wide awake
My moods are all over so the niceness is all fake
I wake in a pool of sweat
Only to later freeze, throw me the net !!
Oh the hot flashes are real
It’s great for sex appeal
The man says you must be hot for me
I just roll over and say no, I gotta pee
Weight gain is going at turbo speed
Chocolate is the number one need.
I just want to be left alone and not bothered
Give me peace and I’ll be honored
Don’t wish for periods to end
You’ll never be right again my friend.
I walk down the streets of my kasi with a face of fear.
My mind, soul and body are full of scars
Beyond my imagination I see no reason to live.
Pains has become part of me, that I do not feel it anymore
What have I done wrong to my fellow gender!?
My cry doesn't cross your heart,
Nor hit your conscience.
Have you forgotten that I am a being too
I am a hunted human.
I am a women after all.
Mark shot his arrow on Saturday
It never returned, just sped away
It took a wrong turn –
turbo afterburn
Maybe it will be back on Friday
Depress gasp peddle
make jest mettle, mannequin IQs
easy to steering will move
Simple-minded plan acceleration,
night shift flux be
turbo stupidity
Oxy dark vacillation
speedily end in
moronic wind tunnel termination
Pulse crash dummies
swerve change rational lanes
dash bored recklessly
Cranial balloon buffoons
always gon fail
those lobby pop quiz pitch tease
Stooge sputtering cartoons
fatally skid sail —
Icy ad vice was a lemon squeeze
Vacuous palpitations
ventricle bend:
Idiotic windy flummox sensation
Pulse crash dummies
defective air bag manic brag
of vent kill mentality
Empty parking lot feelings
are plastic bosom empathetic tested
Accidental findings be fume ingested,
poser belt fear unfastening
Sift through the scattered remains
of collateral crash dummies
Tik-tok stamp the carnage strange,
ventriloqi emotional debris
Sure it’ll be easy, said Mrs. Computer McGower.
Zipping along at a hundred miles an hour.
Thinking she was instructing us with her turbo power.
Actually jet planes have flown slower over my head.
Some of us grew up on outdoors and nature instead.
So she started again, so full of vigor and pep.
We were copying down instructions, some missed every step.
We added the apps she told us to add.
Some zipped away, except those who had already shut down big and bad.
I guess you imagine that I was one of those.
You are not wrong, I must disclose.
Today I had to figure out the task all on my own.
For I do not do well with instructions that fly, flew, or are flown.
I have to hear them slowly, and more than once, no fuss.
So here I am today, feeling warmly without having to cuss.
When we went to virtual school, everything changed a bunch.
We are learning computer programs that we have to crunch.
I am learning more today than ever before.
It is a quarter to four, and I am not out the door.
I am finally getting the hang of some stuff
That I wished I had caught on this morning without all this huff.
Feel the compression rising
on my combusting engine,
like a turbo button pressed
by the current happening.
The brain then fireworks
into chaotic overdrive,
kick that drops me almost
face down on rushing ground.
In that split of a second
that lasts a horrid century,
I force back the reins.
Focusing this flood of energy
into the eminent task ahead
that assaulted my head.
Neural toxin transmission ...
duel exhaust verbal emission
Cold hearted con-fusion engine,
fisticuff fuel injection tension
Hope asphyxiation accelerator ...
bad brakes, karma crash creator
Metal lip kill switch —
femme fatale depart spark ignition
Speed dial turbo eraser itch,
carbon monoxide vapor condition
Poisonous rearview speak,
foul vow peek under a cobra hood
Leather tongue con-vertible,
gaslight soul with the crooked bosom gear stitch
Methane mood reverse reek;
silver chrome clutch fingers, so roulette wheel no-good
Neutral tone shift ... cruise control hostile:
Death dealing driver heart hot-wired to a kill switch
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