whereat the subsequent lines

lack any relation to the title

but like most every poetic endeavor

immediately becomes tangential

re: irrelevant to main subject of discussion,

digressing to unrelated points

characteristic of my trademark

swiftly styled and harried tailored,

and failing to return to original idea

with embedded symbolic logic

to better confuse the unsuspecting reader

which remaining written material

best understood after quaffing inxs of xylite

a liquid hydrocarbon

found in crude wood spirits,

or it can describe fossilized wood

that resembles brown coal

a natural sweetener

about 60% as sweet as sugar

often used in sugar-free foods

and beverages, such as chewing gum,

candies, and mouthwashes

distributed as door prizes

after elbow grease applied

leaving the inside

of the refrigerator

spick and span.

Not one square inch

of the once pristine

inside fridge no longer white

the wife begs to differ, whereby

even the pestiferous vermin

did protest and unite

against the glop and goo,

plus she claims

to be selectively color blind,

and thus defers her husband (me)

to tend to arduous

back breaking task tonight

since she knows how much

I like to bend over,

but actually on my hands and knees

while reaching with scrub daddy

(courtesy the famous cleaning influencer

Auri Kananen strong as an ox

a professional cleaner from Finland

popularized and touts said product),

but yours truly experiences back pain

that radiates to the sacral lumbar,

(and thus while reduced to crawling,

maneuvering left and right

on all fours, or tabletop position

I pray for Mary Poppins) quite

who hopefully can catch

the next umbrella express outright

and show up before night,

where dark shadows from

the outer limits of the twilight zone

within the bishopric of the king,

there once a pawn a time

accorded quite a bit of might

and as his mentor

lived a tarnished knight

essentially his incognito

cause at heart he claimed to be a Jacobite

stood about 182.88 centimeters in height

a rather diminutive chap,

and the proud papa

who never liked to quit

despite being diagnosed

with Parkinson's disease

a chronic, progressive neurological disorder

characterized by accumulation

of a protein called

alpha-synuclein in the brain

where respected researchers

suggests that alpha-synuclein

may trigger an autoimmune response,

leading to the destruction of brain cells

since questions arose about his death

a funeral director, a forensic archaeologist

or anthropologist, a medical professional

(like a forensic pathologist),

an Environmental Health Officer (EHO),

or a specialized exhumation firm,

depending on the circumstances

and jurisdiction his body electric

exhumed from gravesite

exhibiting more than one odd tick,

and new breakthroughs did excite

the biomedical engineers

discovered his essential tremors

perfectly synchronized

with Foucault's pendulum

and thus allowed, enabled,

and provided an excellent opportunity

for the author of these words

to surpass his prior appellation

linkedin to questionable supposition

he got erroneously hashtagged

and mistakenly reported

by Walter Leland Cronkite

an American broadcast journalist

who served as anchorman

for the CBS Evening News

from 1962 to 1981

unwittingly and accidentally uttered a faux pas

back in the day as idiot savant

now referred to as savant syndrome

or, in some contexts, autistic savant

nevertheless when here along,

he did rank (cull) as king of blatherskite.

Because society has us zipping along on our heels

From one sale to the next, until we finally keel over

With our tongues slack from our mouths,

And our ever clutching fingers

In an unhealthy confidence with

Credit cards, and I-phones...

Like the old west gunslingers

Or a prohibition rumrunner

Who's been shot down where he stands...

....This is why we have an Open Mic.

Because there use to be a place you could talk to people!...

Because you have to be homeless,

Or a dog tied up to a tree to see the world

Like it really is,

Or else your just going through the motions...

Cooking up some half-crazed notion

From the outside looking in...

It's a game of sink or swim...

And no one here gets out alive...

...This is why we have an Open Mic.

Because Poetry is our last defense...

Because Palestinians are being shot in the face

While we decide which pose to take

In the ever growing comedic nightmare

Which is our U.S. Head of State...

It's like America's Funniest Home Videos

On tranqs, because everyone's too scared

To react, or has forgotten how to...

As we tumble down the cracks, and haunted halls...

We must decide which rock to cling to,

Because there is no turning back...

...This is why we have an Open Mic.

So raise all voices high!...

Speak your truths!...

Draw down the energies

From the harvest moon,

As that great Blood Moon casts

Her shadow on our backs...

And the lies that we've been steeped in

Will surely make us ill

If we stand still...

Don't let controllers in...

We must ignite!...

...This is why we have an Open Mic!...

9/15/25

Bunny Villaire