Certainly, certainty retains the truth, holds back the whiteness of candor.
Even to make a joke, the double entendre in etymology
Recalls lost memories, lost but not forgotten, buried under red leaves.
To speak of the hidden, in oracular tones of the cryptic is sage.
As sagacity is neither fact nor fiction but something in-between
In between the silk sheets, past the velvet curtains, beneath the parquet floors
No crime was committed, no, not against the law, it wasn't enforced, yet.
Law is not make-believe but anarchy observed, watched over and dealt with.
Yes, anarchy exists everywhere but it hides in shadows and echos.
Certainty entertains the possibility of both fact and fiction.
Entertains both science and the fabrication of the laws of science.
Reproduction is art as an assembly line with workers as artists.
To say a Ford Escort was a work of art is a joke on a grand scale.
Art unlike anarchy needs someone to let go of the reins of control.
If someone confuses this poem for a work of art, God may just fart.
Not to give up the ghost or give away the game, God points at all the cows.
To admit to ourselves, there are too many cows would make the fat cats weep.
Yes, a tall glass of milk with steak and eggs at dawn is sound to a banker.
Retention holds the truth in a pool to reduce the force of rainwater.
Entertain the reader with wit and invention less than full fathom five.
Tenacity grips balls until they burst, the force makes tennis hard to learn.
As to leap over nets is solely for the brave, full of courage, no brains.
Insanity runs in my family as my aunt spent time in a convent.
Not to joke, she was mad, split-mind schizophrenic, but I never met her.
Still, sometimes I wonder if she was my mother and my life a fiction.
To speak in riddles is not to poke holes for eyes in an old paper sack.
However to say 'sack' in the North to women is ungentlemanly.
Even though spending time in Memphis, Tennessee, where everyone says 'sack'
The truth of the matter is women will complain to disguise their contempt.
Run around in circles and run circles around mean two different things, no?
Underneath the rainbow is a pot of gold or a wicked leprechaun.
Truth is the leprechaun is a fabrication, a cock and bull story.
How we came to accept such warp and weft of yarns, the textile industry
Honestly cannot say, they may withhold comment, or wait for God to fart.
Old legends make-believe such stories to evade telling the truth frankly.
Lift up the skirts, the girls don't mind if you look there, underneath the tables.
Dabble in illicit material as jokes elicits no guffaws.
Sold to the man in black at auction, the silence made my face turn crimson.
Back in the day, I played drums in a garage band called Crimson Silence, no?
As Brian tells the tale, or told the tale, you see all time is the present.
Conditions may apply as tense creates meaning in language to lawyers.
Kiss your contract goodbye, but we never had one, we were not Nirvana.
The cessation of smoke from the candle blows out the flame of suffering.
However puns point out the flaws in our logic, to think badly is fun.
Endlessly suffering lifetime after lifetime, a game of Saṃsāra.
Whiteness is not in truth historically the Good as we read in Plato.
Humor me a moment as I walk a tightrope over a sheer abyss.
Infinite emptiness to fall from either side as on the razor's edge.
To develop this line is nothing new to thought, but thirty years ago
Entertaining scholars chewed at the bit to chomp on the flesh of whiteness.
Not that Europeans didn't know they were bad shipping human cargo.
Entertaining rapists may not have understood the gravity of crime.
Still, this is not to say white people were crazy with power...or were they?
Still, this does not excuse the factuality of my Portuguese name.
Of course, I am not white but lost in the brown skin of South Asian descent.
Forget DNA tests, at this point, I don't care if I am Cro-Magnon.
Cut my filet mignon into small bites a child can chew on in his mouth.
And/or God could just fart again for climate change or for Republicans.
Not to dismiss their faith in the big lie bought in the name of trumpery.
Dismiss the cows, their gas, methane, the atmosphere, burning forests and floods.
Or buy into the lies, sell out stability for the sake of coal mines.
Really, eleven years to cease to elevate rising temperatures, yeah?
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