Smacko, whacko little heart, I wonder why you fall apart.

Jill be nimble, slick, sick, snick; Jill flipped over the social stick.

A hubby, a wifey, some kissy some strifey.

Modern Miss Muffet pulls the strings of the puppet.

One, two, familial goo; three, four, clean up the gore.

Old mother bubby gobbled up her hubby, babies aflubby, some stubby, some tubby.

Primo-mojo-hero-Nero climbed the family’s spout; up went his ego and knocked his brother out.

Baa, baa, black sheep, have you lost some soul; yes sir, yes ma’am, three rejections full.

Humpty’s mumpty bobbled a ball, married a alchy, had a bad fall.

Lady buy, lady bug fly away home; if you get lost then use your smart phone.

Jack Flat will eat no fat; his wife eats green and lean; he will live 100 years unless he makes a scene.

Lot’s wife was the first abstractionist; but then she looked back.

When the camera went to work, then the paint brush began to play.

Abstract is the attack set up to bring our eyesight back.

Realism thrives on devotion; abstractionism on emotion.

Abstract art is rocket fuel; by it we leave familiar objects far behind.

The notional corrupts upon the altar of the promotional.

Form is soft porn, line fine wine, and colored shape the great, late, mental-freight escape.

The color is the content.

The line is the wine.

The shape has the weight.

God is part abstractionist; behold the universe.

bs, t, racta cahming aht ya.

Decide — using what’s inside.

Blink, think; decide, reside.

Raise irresponsible children: make all their decisions for them.

We are not responsible for the decisions of others; it is quite enough to manage our own.

There are decisions, then there are the great, dizzying forces of weather, war and whining.

Every decision births risk, cradles benefit and nurtures options.

What we don’t choose we lose.

Every nap passes time; every pause invites consequences.

We leave one passion only to arrive at the door of another.

The future Is perfectly clear; it’s this or that, bumpy or flat.

Emotion swells; nostalgia sells.

Nostalgia, neuralgia, the mind’s own sweet myalgia.

Plans clothe the young; nostalgia decks out everyone.

Plan forcefully, work diligently, remember gently.

The past seems better than it was, the future worse than it will be.

The past is a fragrant breeze — bow, balm, breathe.

The nostrum that sells best to the lonely is nostalgia.

You can order the past in hard or soft and have it delivered in found or lost.

Ache for home, feel less alone.

Nostalgia is a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor.

See it: be it.

Misbuild once; be billed twice.

The buyer sighs the builder’s lies.

Build your dreams with diverse schemes.

Buyers worry builder’s scurry.

Craft everything gorgeous and strong; give it to the next generation.

I build nothing; we make everything.

Stop, build, glisten.

If they bomb it you rebuild it.

The destroyer builds to destroy; the builder destroys to build.

To build, follow plans; ignore your glands.

To be a thing, go get some bling, channel the latest fashion trend.

Shoes are a hoot, boots root-a-toot!

The collar civilized the world.

Stop traffic, turn heads, drop jaws, wield power — wear insufficient clothing.

Fast fashion — resource assassin.

The rich store the poor’s dark garment chore.

Fashion is thug of time, money’s marauder, love’s looter.

Our labor is to drape ourselves in an image; our relief is to finally take it off.

The latest style ends in a rotting pile.

Never in the field of American endeavor has so much been thrown away by so few.

Quitting is not only an option, it may be the best option.

To become a successful starter, one must master the art of being a quitter.

There is an art to quitting; nuanced rationales, precision door slamming.

We give in — at the end of every loss and win.

Sticking with the same thing is easy; finally quitting is hard work.

Quit, go to bed; get up, move ahead.

Every ending is a beginning.

Quit infrequently; give up inconsistently.

Trash old foods, feuds and tudes; keep old dudes.

Enemies are like books; best not to finish them all off.

Quitting often includes some unfitting spitting.

I believe in word magic — the witty, ironic and super sarcastic.

Making something substantial disappear is the magic trick the brave do everyday.

A lie is a slight of hand, it slips the truth up a verbal sleeve.

Proverbs are magic — the high brow, the mid-wow, the pseudopelagic.

Wonder gave birth to magic — and the ecstatic.

Necromancy is chancy — try math.

There is no augury, only trickery or truthery.

Magic is the fanciful mental furniture of romantic girls and desparate old men.

We want to believe in magic, but it’s mostly just good luck or tragic.

As the scarf keeps coming from the hat, so memories keep unraveling from the soul.

Magic deception, power perception, transformation requires a solid connection.

Faith isn’t believing that God will pull a rabbit out of a hat; it is putting on your hat and going rabbit hunting.

Amazing is your presence — after your absence.

The cosmo is boffo ergo Io and Pluto.

Humans have an astonishing potential for a profound ordinariness.

Lies are predictable and boring: it’s honesty that is astonishing.

Normal is amazing; this is known by the very sick after they recover.

The stunning twin wonders of the body — its bright eyes.

Amazing, fantastic; realistic, scholastic.

The cosmos is amazing, but the simple conveniences of home, these are truly astonishing.

Only rarely do we glimpse the extraordinary, a moment of peace, a soul quieted by love.

It is astonishing how much credit a person is capable of taking for something they didn’t accomplish.

Now is an awareness we discover just as it is disappearing.

Now is time’s wave breaking.

“Now!” is the one order that can never be obeyed.

The wise live in the now, but can’t tell how.

Back then leaks, right now tweaks, will be sneaks.

Do right now what you were afraid to do one second ago.

Now is the second of salvation.

If not now who, when, what and how?

Now is the most powerful moment on the planet.

Dream, hope, run, wow; jump, fly, soar — now.

Wise nows plan future wows.

A well-placed excuse can avoid a completely wasted hour.

Calendars protect us ¬†— they make excellent excuses.

A married man with no excuse is like a soldier with no body armor.

A good excuse can make a superb ruse.

The third excuse is self-abuse.

It is a kind of self-preservation to excuse our own mistakes; it is espionage and treason to condemn others for theirs.

Accusing our kin doesn’t excuse our own sin.

We are energized by other’s errors — and our own excuses.

We confess to the lesser to excuse the greater.

We play only deuces by means of excuses.

A poor excuse makes a perfect noose.

Abuse has no excuse.

Danger lies in condemning others while excusing oneself.

What protects also destroys.

Danger is being a stranger; it is also in acting like one.

Danger lies in not knowing who you are.

It takes a long story to create a short fuse.

Measure three times, check twice, jump once.

Love dangerously; adore others fiercely.

Fashion a short sword out of the truth; stab your fears in the guts — twist.

Ignorance jumps off the edge of the world alone; knowledge flies toward the center of the universe with a team.

To be dangerously unhappy compare what you have with what you can’t afford.

Live dangerously; ignore God; resolutely go it alone.

To ensure massive destruction, form massive armies, provide them with powerful and massive weapons, bring them near each other.

To make a safe family marry a plant — raise butterflies.

I can feel completely safe in any place in which I am unaware of danger.

Stop, look and chicken.

Every attempt to create a totally safe place will result in a prison.

Love yourself; protect your neighbors.

Safety is made out of love — motes, thick walls and hot pitch.

A safe day is found close to people who are safe at night.

Safety is the unknown, hiked carefully.

The most frightening sound in the world is the human voice: it is also the safest.

Invite a needed conflict; ensure everyone’s safety.

Protect yourself — forgive.

Love is safety.

Silence is loud.

A short silence can see a long distance.

Asking questions points the way to quietness.

All food should be honored with silence — for chewing.

Our outer quiet hides our inner riot.

Silence won’t end violence.

Authority demands silence; love allows it.

Silence is a type of family violence.

Silence is an indicator of compliance, defiance, reliance — and genius.

Silence can train a good ear and craft a skilled tongue.

Utterances silence what most needs to be said.

As a torrential rain quiets a tortured heart, so a roaring sea calms a clamorous soul.

Mystery makes us quiet at last.

Smooth is underused.

Stylish doesn’t require a hat — just a curl, cut, spike or rat.

Cultivated clauses are surrounded by suave pauses.

A hat and chain and you’re urbane.

Provincials hold to the essentials; cosmopolitans add a few tangentials.

Urbanity is just the fancy cover for humanity.

The provincial man has but one house; the world traveler is at home on every route.

Style is the trifle that adorns — and scorns.

No elite beings — just humble humanity.

Every soul is sophisticated — a veritable polis to other minds, a cosmos to other psyches.

With everyday beseechery we conjure English history.

Sheep and mutton, hook and button, English is the language glutton.

Some people take in kids; English takes in words.

Our English thesaurus is a monstrosity; it has given intemperate, unrestrained and inauspicious birth to effusiveness, loquacity, prolixity, wordiness, redundancy and verbosity.

Flail, flap, flicker, flee — word cousins are a mystery.

Cacoepy’s orthoepy intrinsically is uppity.

The winsome tongue has lost ugsome.

The OED has OCD.

To speak our language is innate, uttered without the slightest wait.

English began with a kinsman; it will end when their isn’t one.

Meetings shape reality; a lack of meetings and reality shapes us.

A car needs a driver; a meeting needs a little kaiser.

Poor proposals; messy meetings.

Invite the conflict; save the organization.

Poor meetings cause stress; stress causes more meetings.

What dies in a meeting lives on in a heart.

Organizations are dominated by calendars; scheduled — held.

What isn’t shouted at the meeting will be whispered in the ear.

Decrees hide in discussions, depotism in votes.

The group completes the individual.

The agenda isn’t in the email, it’s within each person at the meeting.

We hold fairs to remind us of who we are.

Fairs exist to give out ribbons — and take up cash.

At the fair pigs are named after politicians; this is demeaning to the pigs.

Blue ribbons define fairs — and ordinariness.

The craftsman and the novice both appear at the fair; they alone know that they are the same person.

The lama shaved at the fair is not diminished, neither is the world when divested of superiority.

The fine woodwork at the fair and a person turned from harmful ways — no price tag, inestimable value.

Young girls take their baby goats to the fair, so the world retains some innocence.

Hawksters require gawksters.

Fairs are for eating fun food — deep fried coffee, baked ice cream.

Fairs were created to bore animals, excite children and tire adults.

Anonymity installs humility.

Do what will make you famous with the desire to remain obscure.

It is good to aspire to renown — better not to be found.

Our anonymity offers us the option of cultivating only one soul.

Lovelies, hide; God only knows what they will do with you.

Anonymity is the gift of divinity.

Shopping alone is the great privilege of the unknown.

Celebrity becomes a vamp; anonymity becomes a rant.

Anonymity is the co-author of creativity.

Anonymity — it’s the soul virginity.

Spiders are revealed by their webs, harm by tangled minds.

Fame is unnerving; obscurity — completely so.

To ensure everyone else’s safety, make peace with your self.

When justice and mercy kiss, peace appears.

No peace in killing, only in being killed.

Peace is a garden, a quiet hour — no violence within.

Peace loves the light; agitation hides in the dark and gnaws on secrets.

Tranquility — it lacketh durability.

Peace isn’t from things being okay; it’s from being okay with things.

Dominate others; this will tick them off, upset you, and ensure your downfall.

Turmoil’s affinity is with beginnings and endings; peace thrives in middle ground.

To achieve peace, kill Napoleon — within.

Those who desire war will rest in peace.

Wage war, using peace.