Inner Galactic
by
Shawn Slaughter

God Bless those who appreciate the thought funk
Who realize the Scot's Punk
And for stylizing the pot funk
anybody can, anybody will, and i do; freely
pop a wheelie upon the top two;
hemispheres, it can't be weird unless it's feared,
wrought forth amidst a cloud of semi-chaotic
patriotic fractals of the soul
neuronic synapses firing
dendrons shoveling the coal, incendiary
ashes, bursting and floating at the same time
unraveling the arcane rhyme
laying them in an unorthodox line,
assembling thee...auspiciously, clandestinely , 
and all the ly's inbetween.
Like the hot Vietnam sun beaming on Sheen
My muscles lean
Toward an order, much like the gleam
behind a beast's eye in the darkness
for it too has a purpose
to Illuminate the mind's state
and propagate its will, thus; 
unto this qwerty I spill
forevermore......








typed into my blackjack in two parts, first three lines at a noisy bar in addison....the rest while paying homage to the porcelain gods at my place of employement