sometimes i just wanna babble

and it used to be, once upon a time and all that, that i would just do it cuz i wanted to cuz i knew everything takes forever so there was no rush, or something like that... and then the ridiculousness would take over and the mind would wander where it will go through holes and slides and calliopes and fire engines and graphic pornography and rabbits and bunnies and kitties and puppies and waggy tails and pussies and all natures of beasties and burdens and bordens and and gortens and hagen das and kaleidoscopes and crayon drawings drawn by kindergarteners and elder gardeners and chauncy gardeners and level headed leprechans and while out there losing my way i find another way and say hey way, way to go today aye to reciprocate the ambidextrous raisin hiding at the bottom of the cereal bowl mixed with hemp and nuts of ravenous variety and crackers without polly and dates without eharmony and oats and grains of a different feather and the odd shell from the pistachio people and an occasional chocolate bit a hot bit of something and pea pods and pod people and (would you be surprised to know i actually ate this mixture, drenched in rice milk, of course) and did i forget the fruits of the bushes and trees?...

but i don't do that much anymore...

there's just not enough time and too many other things going on, like this communication with some long lost stranger from toronto who has me why she can't just say what she want to say without the dance around the maypole and consultations with jung freud and old so crates and the logonberry (or loganberry, for that matter) twins from left of the falls who spent last summer wondering why the summer before was so hot as the seasons didn't seem to change much anymore and the cali continuum comes and goes like spirits in the wind with zen party mix made of rice crackers of odd colors and sesame sticks and green peas that are not always green and the rare appearance os a nut and wasabi peas but sitting only works for so long before i've got to fly and stretch my wings and legs and other protruding body parts that long for movement and companionship and like ego, stroking, but why me is not a proper question for a hand to ask the body, so we continue in rapture and the illusion of confusion just cuz it's easier than admitting what we might truly want if we stopped pretending we did not have a choice and all the double negatives multiply exponentially until nobody knows which side of the coin was flipped first or last and the mushrooms grew in spite of the sun while the dish and the spoon ran wee wee wee all the way home...

mooooooooo...

there is an obvious (to me, at least) influence of recent motion pictures in my brain and while the babble does not pay the rent (how easy do you want me to make it, come on, and all the laughing lassies ponder the complexity of it all), but it does release the frogs and pasteurized grapefruit juice so the eventual everything will be better lubricated at the moment it finally arrives and then what?...

why there's only now, of course... z too, and g, and j k l m n o p (and all the other letters and numbers too) and even if every great tale starts with y (or why) it just as easily starts with t, so don't let's everybody not get too comfortable in the pockets of strangers cuz you never know when you might find the hole and enter a world you never expected to be in, especially not hers, because dreams maybe do come true and it can happen to you no matter how your heart measures time, but the lint monster is always lurking just around the corner to suck you into the void of oblivion where the pink panther muses over your fate in patches of dandi lions and bisexual tigers singing hosanna hay santa have you any wool in seven part harmony (cuz the eight was eaten by a passing whale who wasn't really hungry but just happened to yawn at the most inopportune moment and it was too late for eight who got ate for a fate none too great with no plate or dish or spoon cuz they could not find their way home and fell into a fire swamp, or a parentheses, for that matter) while the timber (as in trees) sang the song that was the answer blowing in the wind all along...

it was a day much like today, only it wasn't, because wisdom and common sense tell us that there really is no day like today, so buck up my little broncos and fillies and fillies who ride bareback broncos and verses vices without cream or with as non-dairy seems all the range in the housewives clutch but the flavored creams still reign supreme in the fast food convenience marts where you can eat yourself to death or simply hang out and try to be one of the cool kids in town...

so never look a gift horse in the mouth for you never know what sort of infestation the teeth can carry around and then you forget shit like that when you lick and kiss and suck and fuck like george carlin used to say before he went off to nowhere or wherever he might have ended up if there is an ending up or some sort of existence beyond the life as we know it and then again, maybe that's not the ended up end either so carry on because, as we all well know even if we forget, everything takes forever...

cuz...