Harpy-Chord Begone

All right. The glistening, listening, nature harp music has had its day. Now it's time to get back into the enigmatic absurd hey-day, eh?

First, allow me to do a form of mea culpa on the continuous, ridiculous, oblivious, sniffer-everious elephant-in-the-room truth that I make a great deal of grammatical and typographical errors in my rush to publish. I do go back into the gates of "well" and rewrite awkward posts from an inward hell that most would never read a second time. Although at times there is witty rhyme.

It's all for posterity, I tell thee. And more than obsessive-compulsive tendencies to clear what is "wrong" with what may seem "right" and to leave yon readers in a form of delight.

No need to worry as it's all in jest despite the semblance of an inner quest.

To where is the author going in search of focus and truth, other than a personal cringing "oooooooch!" ?

So be it, she wrote in a casual note despite her leaping over the moat, to grab the pillagers by their hands and send them off to other lands.

Okay. Enough. Let's get down to REAL NEWS!

Charlie-Who-Has-Lost-His Sheen was overrun this past weekend by his decaying peen.

But never fear, this guy is dear - in the deer-in-the-headlights way while some will cheer nor shed a SNEER!

I am who I yam tho' I dare to fix what has otherwise been mixed with wit and nitwit.

In the silence of the room from which I air my quiet despair there is a force of whimsical care - most of the time when Quasimodo grasps onto the chimes and announces to the people that all is benign.

Until I return to the daily burn of my homestead churn of yearning earn-est restlessness, let it be be known that I am full of ocean breeze, a warmer tease than the forecasts' wheeze, and more sense than it would seem in a regular stream of writing words of untold self esteem hiding under a trenchcoat of cloak and dagger's untold joke.

What was it that I just wrote? Did you gain the underlying yoke of the joke? Is it too obscure as to silently endure another round of this nattering blur of words thrown together here-to-fore so that I may snark "Never more"?

I admit to writing absurb follies when not focused on politco or celebrity jollies. In fact, it seems, at this moment now, all I care about is to howl.