Shaping sounds are the prize. – How else are we to? – know of where and why’s?

As we shape our sounds to speak,

the holy spirit knows what to keep,

our holy ghost constrained our how,

then the lord is left to hum kowtow.


We move and shimmy our roles to play,

nodding and shaking to hasted the day,

We’re writing and reading to make sense and heed,

yet the timing and tensing our voices vowels seed.


Jowled and drooling as consonants drop,

with faces fullest as it fills spills clap-trap.

Stifled or Hymie’d the parts we must play,

wouldn’t you like a voice that yearns obey?


Questions to answer,

awkwardness solved,

are solutions granted?

were resolutions sold?


Apologies accepted,

a presents presents,

a hoity-toity Mai Tai,

might make more sense.


For I rummage around,

in my psycho bridge,

looking for hints,

and signs that rinse.


Turning around,

on a dime or a point,

to it see differently,

from our holiness’s viewpoint.


Saint or soldier,

Lucky or cursed,

Let the jury decide,

I’ll just make verse.


Received or rejected,

denied or accepted,

confused or amused,

heaven help its fused.


Agent eighty six,

or ninety nine side kicks,

nine three six’s my mix,

in case your here – hoping for hints.


not double oh seven,

or seven eleven,

but my dates lines up,

to a one handed polydactyly.



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