Morning flow

It’s not a contest, except that it is. / Captain Crunch, / Snapping punch, / Crap for lunch. / Bragging on a hunch, / Snapdragon munch, / Cro-magnon of the bunch, / Caveman gangster, loincloth sagging to the ground, / Stop dragging my heart around, / Don’t start, / It’s a feeble fart who holds an easily broken heart; / means those shards / didn’t open up enough to get hard / When left alone. / Pardon the tone, / but when you settle into the zone, / evidence shows, / and developments grow / Mapping what shows / Making you wary and quick / when it gets precarious and slick. / A gentleman rogue or an arrogant prick? / I still don’t fucking care you can take your pick. / More wakes than you can shake a stick at in a Mortician’s Diary, / Visions firing me, / on the mission to be re-wiring with NLP, / Seneca and staying awake. / I’m into 5% Nation, / Zeitgeist shaking, / big booty quaking, / sex without obligation, / jotting how I live infinitely, / spots of subliminal sprees, / Integrated Masculinity, / logic projects like Spock unlocking the clit, / monopoly on lucid mystics rocking firespit, / the amygdala where desire sits, / mired in MRE scans, / spirit fire of the pineal gland, / fearless fliers / spinning words and daring arts / like Charles Lindbergh and Amelia Earhart. / Stoic grace, / holding the oldest face / only the boldest win the race. / Keep pace, / Physics doesn’t respect the timid / and probability will always do the sexy thing, / nexus ring, / Ouroboros as a manifestation of the original Chorus, / the center source pond / from which all Life first spawned, / the enter-the-first-door / schizophrenic orchestra / Falun Gong, / that turned the first fire on. / It still burns in the great beyond. / Word is bond, / hold it in your palm / and face it in every new dawn. / It’s always on, / past my last breath, / so it’s not a contest to carry on. / It’s a fucking marathon.