The Buffalo Shuffle-o

The eternal search for perspective
controlling anger before I speak
is a lesson in turbulent flight
and look up after
I leap.
From wayward songs
to hometown blues...

Massive entrepreneurship,
a subsidiary side of enmemberment
is a tracing this realization back to  
the prior realization of what ‘gone
to from the house of Castor Troy.
Face Off between the highest
of park rangers to the Forrest of
Gump managers and then
coming to The Faint realization
that Tainted Love comes from somewhere
underneath.
Between our legs in where the world spreads
her wings and sings, sings, sings.
Between our sheets is where we dance
and, in dancing,
become one with the worlds
as we have always been.
Who kills The Killers? Fun.
Fun and triumph to the winning
side of the sinners race
to follow whatever came
and, from whatever came,
ask whom.
Gamut registery, the Winnipeg man,
in the dinner-box-sunshine to
the inner drag queen.
Fucking can’t queef on cerebral traps
but the minute man leaps,
the flaps then flap.
Juxtaposition: the word of the day;
damnit, dumbass, the words can’t play.
Full of a fraught sent sense of mobility:
the ill in me is the skill in me.
So I take her to bed once more
to even the odds and oddity the score.
When tweens hear sounds on XM Radio
they think, “What the should Show show go?”
as the inner glow goes
"WoOOOOOooooOOOOO!"
Can’t carry on, so just carry through;
havoc ensures (then have it ensue).
Bravery ways leis and stays to
maven shades of gaze, but
haven’t herd the Buffalo; shuffle, though.
Cold, stone creamy boomerang sang
when I lifted it off it’s pedestal.
And now I’m the king of the poor
old folks front mill with a
chink in my armour still;
holding a gold gaze to a corn made maze,
going to graze like horses.
Hair grays: 50 shades.