Peter M. Pannuel

awaiting the time when something has the change this thing this changeling chameleon esque extraterrestrial menace that is never ending like an unwritten networking story soaks me in sorry cuz too soon no mornings will have the want for glory I too and fro wait for it to come on home to its dome sweet home and it leaves me with these shivers as the cold wind delivers the message that this black hole is full of moles and the leader of these will cower crowded line Yeh will have his time in due climatic situations of mass manipulations and war declarations our foreign relations are just decorations on the present situation elevation man your battle stations congratulations for forty nine plus years of fabrications we fair nations never facing reconciliations are making real old revelations and if we are indeed a good god creation will collectively we continually inexplicably fan the furnace frenziedly further fueling future exacerbations get set some yet to come to be or not to be but still no senses about us guide us the world will revolve with or without us this cloud of pixie dust has the world full of pirates and hooked crooked crooks who spook and who cook up these schemes in sickening teams and their dreams are our nightmares where werewolves run the bulls and bears they tear sheds to newly weds medical insurance less water sheds techno glamor humanity eventuality doesn't matter clickity clack return to saturn