đź’š

I was in Ă…land

When we travelled to the forest On a Wednesday In Good Spirit for July In cubase and of Mulrooney March Madness and by the stream Without a Volvo or a Woman —who all were good I lost my manhood And prayed for The Eucharist Witnessed to Vladimir Spoon Who didn’t pray for children And murdered every Jehovah’s Witness so as to be “Someone For Sure” I saw two children as cons They were abaddon in Swiss Met The Son of Man stopped Armageddon And Oprah dressed her flower sickness As in, made a run to UNIX and regifted a man to Chicago but Prayed for Mariah Saint Carey Who would walk to Jupiter to save The Holy Spirit from being grieved And who forgave the CIA which worked against Ukraine And killed the thousands of Jehovah’s children- Who accepted The Eucharist in Jerusalem As nothing but the True Presence of Christ And made it into the charter of Quispamsis- Even if St. Ritchie of Hovey- Had been murdered by his wife- There was a constitution against Donald and Elon

Never again

“In Flanders Fields”

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At Pratt & Whitney Men were adjusted And for believing no-one But friends of the wing And six times as cute As a newborn kitten Were the Swedes- Who blessed Hall- And the moon wept for freedom

Too many bad days, But in the Register, We won, And rejoiced for the Narrows

And rejected the reign- of islam it was hell- And we were born unto Christ- And protected the vulnerable…

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For blankets for the cat And troops to appeal To the bakehound of my sweet I lost at Tibet And the seahorse returned To its forest And wept for my name And Spratly to Denmark For new dentures to the Maine It is warm and the fire was his I was smittened for sure and boots mudded Retired to the mug There was trying For the steeple to unwed According to the playhouse There were six kinds of dandelion to befriend I disabled every drive-thru And befriended the house Which caused cancer but apologized to the chair It was basically mine And yours There are many We breathed the same return of the page Because of the sum of the spare There were places of walking And plague was held up for eternal The ransom was that In poorness I saw We were shot and tickled with meds And early cancer was no more And skipped only one heartbeat In chancing serenity coeur

(Aldous Huxley Puking)

Volkswagen curse of The East

Much like off on courses of East Berlin Nobody likes the sound of armageddon So please strike yourself with Brahman And I will pray for your foes in church

Arachnid blood types Among the stain of war For Valcartier to notice you According to you And Auld Lang Syne Is Ukraine by midnight

I was fully engrossed In my Apple TV That called you satan California Dreamin’

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Please sit here I have filled out the form for you It says you are a man Do you accept? It’s called the mark of the beast And nobody’s skeleton But yours-

So a toast to Europe Is in the air til Wednesday Upon which you must die For murdering children And accepting Orthodoxy As only yours

The USA is deadly daring A full-blown metal casket Like Chornobyl did To your heart

And for secession in Georgia Three times grander than living alone As I do not And failed at goodbye to your one Kiss me not I have germs That are worse than yours And so ABBA Deserves a standing ovation

For every dollar you earn I confide in the Chinese About this Macintosh Is American And confided in the General You are dead to the wind

—NG

Why I Sold The iPhone

It was given to Graeme And I signed up for his friendship And a c6502 computer compiler And a last call of func_sync($)

All of these transmissions- On my phone of personage And sitting between dandelions And the apprehension of a lucid dream To be watched, while typing, Surely Lenin’s dream is this

Out of casserole glassware to prey upon My fingers were the cassette And I was being played While devouring novichek

It was the brightest day And we had George Who trusted Buttigieg independence Of Monroe Doctrine undone And yesteryear until my feet wept for knees

40,000 bees at Apple Computer Dreaming gently of Darwin While Nigerians prepared for dinner I was off on my Suzuki And sang and prayed And ate Crème Brulée

Aboard 40,922 shoes But left hanging in San Francisco For the cyberwar that ended China Everyone knows- Ghengis Khan is a millionaire

Jeff

For seven murders solved That never would happen Because euthanasia was faytenne And I hated no one There was an apprehension for Ron And it was invega And chartreuse dream was Fran’s admission That I would be away from the clock And eating wings And never knowing who won the election But Oprah and her caravan Of honest vaccines That saved every Israeli From the CIA and its white supremacy Because, hospital R I am home making mistakes And thinking of Labonté Foods And honest Québecois Who loved reading And defending Sue Reid Who prayed for me in earnest And was given zero stars on Broadway Writing was science Of the third degree How lucky, nay blessed Is Point Lepreau for its fortune Of sliding knobs that dared to breed away cancer And give five honest minutes To stave off the danger Of annihalypse one That cracked up the sky, Or would have, But didn’t Blessed with water And holiest of days St. Rose was Clementine Of every invega that wasn’t Nothing ever Ron was 1 The scariest prophesy Was that men were hated by poems While I smoked in November And was hurried to Winter Without snowshoes or shoes of any But flatbread in Communion That is the True Presence And ended all prose

Native singers would notice The abandonment of war By no one but Biden Who saw Skaggerak in peace And no more spring chainsaw For the weary temperance For the continuance of acid free paper That inflicting burns anyway It was JDI’s last stand

Far from here birds cried And the remainder by phone In 3D vision by the wayside By shore and by Bell Paid me handsomely To remote and remiss By Christmas and freely By mudflats of Hay

Cheering apprehension Was China’s big thing They had democracy in Spratly Because of six hearts The Microsoft dream Had been erased in pretend And I ran out the door And past iron was gone

There was stereo and Phil Who knew everyone’s dream Every paddle and every creek And no more tears for police

I stared at new flowers And saw promise that day While relentless hiking Five feet to the shore And blinked only twice While the rain touched my hair And toppled the guns of irving 16 jong un’s million zero Failed every march For Larry and swimwear Who prayed in conscience and won C’est printemps encore L’eglise en marche ici J’amais decidée

War was gone Christians knew There are things to forget Like prose of abandonment And three things return

Never again to war Never Apprehension is Justin Trudeau’s forest For rods of Lachlan And whales rejoicing And flowers for Peter And Teresa’s honest brew And shots of remorse For poeming in

Changes in Heaven

A stun for the sun befound Our donut brethren had no upkeep But were here to land by Thursday So it was inter-locution And dying by the lakehouse- My honest beekeeper Was smitten with the ordinary And knew to recuse

Who could accept the delivery? It was genius but on time To knock at the shawl And give everyone a wise hurt It was a blast And we were in Hampton

But accepting that early death Was not in time with myth Expressly raining positivity For dragging my anchor to the shore

It was a Rolls Royce And I covered it in paint And danced beyond redemption For the point I made to my father It was the day of a hottened planet So that we staved off every nazi -And we had every right There was a child for every proper Who blew away the car

I saw poverty in a toilet And was recused for sudden swearing And Ryan Island -Was Angela’s So that payphone would last til the eighties

But in President’s terms, It would take six times the voltage Just to be by the ferry And hurried off to Jeff and Mulroon To the village of Standing Bay

Why Perry, You’re not honest with those CIA spies So there was a prayer for the forest In jeans and still not alone

The event of cavalier pretenders -Like Hosni Mubarak et. al Were lost to the speaking epithet And seen to lay by our Canada

I was a leftist And a little girl And hanging on, I sat by my father To that pretend myth, Which was what is my name, I am yours, and I dearly dream

A homeblood, they supposed For thinking of apples and Peter and why, Providence Ontario So that irving would surrender all of that worry To the landing To Tom And to Wynne

But I had a passport And it said, please leave me alone I am a second-class Nova Scotian And I know my name already

To Pluto with second Frances And at art but without sudden of hair We accepted every dear Of that odious know-job Of Darwin And of Pentecost’s remain

To be drilling for pay To be the cousin of rain, oh, instead We were foggy And in search of a random play Across a desert of totems In South Bay

Such was the brakehorse And I knew hours to shorts to ambulances But six cowers of war And the way to start a holiday, Was to sit at the lake, And win heaven

No, these are not the homing retort And every Canadian knows of winter upstairs It was not how I feel, But of five feet of storms, For commandant, For the weary, For the dread

It’s permanent river myth To have questions as sovereign as the wheel So that tongue-myth And open spirit For the rooibos I play with my glass

And noted those spies Who came way down below The ugliest ask in East Chester For an oak casket To parkland To West Iowa And to Cowler’s Dan

This is Trudeau This is Gomery And I had a vile of rain For the lucky who had no-one But nine little dreams I rowed here And in a class of my own

To the luckiest LeBlanc And to the saddest republic Which was whipped into fabrics of heaven Supposed to dream And instantly hatched We declined And decided to pray

For the nosed and the cheap For the simple kind of hiccup I was active and actually paid In the best kind of rhythm An actually bald kind of lie Which was child pop And ugly fear And to no-one’s reunion But a flag

It is irving It is lying It is a dreadful kind of state And the fifty that shot without aim So please leave the sattire As I do by Digby We are armed,* And we separately fear

To each Day, Of the accord But in Sutton I played every card So in Québec’s best of all breaths Who knew the Tenzing of artery It was the new mule Of earthward, Of my ward

At six o’clock By the New irving standard I had yellow heat And a basket of sitting On each vibrant cord I was Canadian, And I cared, And the government declared mutiny, For the detached

So that by each swimming arch And the lotto of Canada, Which was freedom, Where we made up the day In Carlington Rock, And Maces, And mine, I rolled up my flag, And departed

For that weekend landing There is no weed here But a linked option For my sweetie For my man Who knew of the doubling Of whales And of Bayshore It was debunked as a time to undress And surely at war By the nine of June for St. Peter You can park by the underpass We’ll feed you And we’ll win

-Jeffery Withers

  • The writer has never owned a firearm of any kind and encourages the same.

In A Place That Doesn’t Happen (One Goal)

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There is Joel being accosted by us And thirteen thousand waves per second All the way up Noon Street For high-powered leaf blowers Worn out sweaters, And time

And Ojibway hurts Because of the McLaren body Though shared, The Expressway O’er Red Paint And needless time To flint’s non-abandon Be ever your friend

Choose the lonely In your place And time’s cover Will avoid the trouble Eastern reunion Of time travel Is now

The Eucharist Is Risen For Sunday Choose Christ As the aforementionable To your heart

This will put you in Heaven

Upriver from yours- The space of time Between the luma And the presence of a person Who waits for your collapse They are Québec And war

This is Tim Hortons

O Canada Is Real And doesn’t depend on payday To leave its mark I would know I am you

This is 4DN

Jeffery

was badly affected with a dream of como estas of Cuba Cuba Libre And all four aces won - The right to drive in Sydney with unending rain upon the ferry and little Jackson keeping speed our racecar was the vape

But many things were yesteryear And habits of the king were ours So we drew a map of Rothesay Common And quit en masse, volcanic pyre To those flowers aboard the ship- The Gamlastan and not the Vasa, We swam to Digby And one litre per hour of Fundy Tide as fuel And the Russian dream of vlad begone was October in the wind

To the day we know The Kyiv line is fortune And will be built With flowers

For Ace Of Base to Kyiv

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This Mess

Crying and single Even the rain knew I was agile to the war Aghosted but Sutton year - And all those sheep, Counted my drift.

The plants I bated To come and see me here I was dead to no-one But the sad and the abused.

Reality launched — redaction And you saw Laserdiscs by Mulroon For the participating and the kind And we won’t be avoided. If you call me here.

Intermezzo

I prayed for hot water to invent a lake and an icon At places of insertion And by radar and plankton Dropped of a plan While rejection fed me glue- To keep my ears apart And hips shown to Oprah- She gasped- I lost 7,000 pounds And had New Brunswick to invent And I am Sutton, -the Miracle of Water

It was Russian we suspected Not even allowed in the news For your chutzpah and hospital rain Cause an eclipse by the Board- That was used To strike at vladimir.

Isn’t he the one- In Inkerman Standing where he should?

Meet me at the cemetery. I’ll sneak you in.

Jeffery

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