NaPoWriMo: Throwing caution to the wind four times to catch up, because I actually, somehow forgot that it was The Cruelest Month, which I think kind of gets me (finds me?) off the hook, in a way (and thereby, in a way, letting you off the hook as well) for doing anything Too Serious, so I will make a point of posting all (or, well, some, at least–ok, yeah, like not even really anywhere near all, but a bunch) of those little bits and bobs of bobbing thoughts that might have one day turned into poems but probably never will, and probably still don’t come anywhere near to making anything anywhere near or like actually ‘real’ or ‘good’ poems (pfft…whutevs [as the kids apparently say these days]), so….why not? Yeah. Here you go: NaPoWriMo #’s 1, 2, 3, (Oxford Comma, I love you) & 4. (To hell with the “Best Bitch-Slap” Award, I’m going for “Longest NaPoWriMo Post-Title” Award!)


My mother always said, ‘Honey, life isn’t fair.’

You want the world to be an ethical place
but what does ‘the world’ mean? What 
does ‘place’ mean? What does it mean
for the one to be or become the other?

If we were not here, would ‘the world’
care if it was an ethical place or not?

Could it become anything other 
than what it already was?


Wrods

Evne wehn teh wrods dno’t maek mcuh snese, 
my thoguhts loko betetr in linse of eqaul legnth.


Yet another day goes by that I haven’t used algebra

And the mathematics of the self?
What is the sum? What is the product?
What is the difference?


Lessons

guilt is a kind of
punishment that we learn to
inflict on our( )selves


Caution, meet wind.

Keepin’ the ‘Po’ in NaPoWriMo…

2 thoughts on “NaPoWriMo: Throwing caution to the wind four times to catch up, because I actually, somehow forgot that it was The Cruelest Month, which I think kind of gets me (finds me?) off the hook, in a way (and thereby, in a way, letting you off the hook as well) for doing anything Too Serious, so I will make a point of posting all (or, well, some, at least–ok, yeah, like not even really anywhere near all, but a bunch) of those little bits and bobs of bobbing thoughts that might have one day turned into poems but probably never will, and probably still don’t come anywhere near to making anything anywhere near or like actually ‘real’ or ‘good’ poems (pfft…whutevs [as the kids apparently say these days]), so….why not? Yeah. Here you go: NaPoWriMo #’s 1, 2, 3, (Oxford Comma, I love you) & 4. (To hell with the “Best Bitch-Slap” Award, I’m going for “Longest NaPoWriMo Post-Title” Award!)

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