Jolly Saucy Crew

Yes, and having chawed on verdant vegetables, licked on fresh fruit, and put blackened, red and white flesh towards my mortal sustenance, there is little doubt that feasts are enjoyable. Sweethearts and adament believers, storytellers, breasts and thighs -- I exclaim: "You delicatessens! I have consumed your flavor with honor and respect!"

A strong supposition it is indeed to state what is bad ought not be feared or fretted over unnecessarily -- for of all the minutes spent in this living interlude, suspicion and rot fear consume majorities. . .when, the fact is, food poisoning has shaefed many of us only once or twice. So what jurisdiction ought anxiety have in the face of such miniscule odds?

Yet, otherwise, one might contrarily believe, with such abundance, that 3 meals a day are too few. However, gluttony is indeed mentioned as a sin, causing me to ask: Does the aroma of a sensuous woman, fantastically imagined, and mentally devoured, constitute a meal? Can the yellow-tail dipped in sweet sauce and suculently melted with tongue be as gourgingly received as, say, 10 angus burgers? Personally, I eat my full as often as I can; quality relates to quantity but not quantifiably so -- my figure is trim but my belly is full.

Let me say to the fine denizens, where flavor is concerned, I have tasted the best. As you continue to offer me fine morsels, I continue to worship that which makes my hunger so and that which fills my sastisfactory glow.

What's for dinner?

Machines.

Wicked are those machines, robots I dare say, who upon their mortal souls make judgements fair and square. Easily done by handbook and narrowly if ever dodged in dreams -- little respites despite our tender fraility.

And so wishes come forth in great abundance for something possessing something akin to the anti-monotony. Rebellion, some say? Nay, for always following inspiration are gloomy days; rather a grain like a feast or a drop from an ocean, for each. . .all can be satisfied by means of equation in this earthly place.

Philosophy and history are subjects attracted to dust. But for their trendy renewal, I see no point. Action breathes of motivation, and for what often leaves others at ill-ease; such a nicely spiced mantra, "just do it" sings the same tune for the furry kindgom, as does it for the birds and bees. Never seen is more decisive resolve than upon the lions claw as he pulls a gentle dinner into a fall. Upon which studies one curiously, as they themselves are food for the fungi, bacteria, and disease.

Abandon do many these clarities, sadly, for I say unto thee: The microscopic and galatic continue proving infinitely AN ABUNDANCE.

So for what and against whom exactly do we fight?

A grindstone, a waterwheel, subatomic particles, and gravity? As they cannot be stopped, their reality does weigh on me. Unto their duress, does my skin sag and my erection waver. . .my intent fails and emotion silently thunders. There is no enemy because the battle is already decided -- and where my bones will lay was once this living warrior.

Unbeaten by time, unridiculed by the sun, set free by night, to dream and dream of what is yet to become. My grease may be utilized daily by the clockwork, but my mind is free!