#werewolfslut --Full Sturgeon Moon

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   #werewolfslut  --Full Sturgeon Moon   
   
Under the neon swarm of celestial sea,
Resides a Werewolf Slut--her radiating a spirit of free;
Alas, her creepy creator gives an innocent stare,
Hoping she gets respect--and does a reader ensnare.   
   
   

Ulcerative Colitis & Avocado; plus, Chocolate Banana

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   "Ulcerative Colitis & Avocado; plus, Chocolate Banana"  
   
   Gastro-Strange Physicians have many times been vociferously imperative in mentioning to me:  "Diet doesn't matter."  After a mere week in remission, you think you're miraculously fixed; next, a juicy steak sandwich with horseradish; then, you wake up with a bastardly dagger in your gut and evacuation of bloody fecal matter.  Plus, you gotta swallow eight horse-sized pills everyday, throwing up a little in your moist mouth as you do so.
   
   To these people (such as myself), armed with assholes that give the mirror image of blown out flat tires--I proclaim:  "Eat an avocado.  Approximately 4 grams of mild yet effective fiber, high fat content for a respectable body mass, and maybe an anti-oxidant or two.  Then, there's the frozen, chocolate-smeared banana.  Very nice.  Though--they kinda bind me; as a result, dip in a bit of organic flax seed, and a halfway decent poop magically appears the next day, hopefully not in your Captain America Boxer Shorts.  Yes, sometimes--we all want to be somebody else."  

Wicked Witch--Voluminous Rack

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   "Wicked Witch--Voluminous Rack"   

Though suspicious sorcery might morph a man's genitalia into a bunny rabbit--
A lass might fancy it cute, trumping a behemoth blade-sheathing habit;
Next, in need of trans-vaginal mesh--
Ah hell, the Wicked Witch dances under daystar, appearing garden fresh.  
   
  

One Race: The Human Race

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   "One Race:  The Human Race"
  
   It has been theorized--there is no different species of human; we are one race--the human race.
   
   My Grandma Bertha got Grandma King on the horn back in the late 50's, venting:  "What's this I hear about you not wanting your son to marry a foreigner?  At least my family isn't Pig Shit Irish."
   
   And I love being part Irish.  My Dad always joked that I wasn't Irish enough to TRULY enjoy Notre Dame Football Games.  But I do--buzzed 2 the day.
   
   Irish, mystical barding:
   "I'm a Leprechaun--come and get me . . . "  

Parental Units (6)--Brunette Barbie, Brains Included.

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   "Parental Units (6)--Brunette Barbie, Brains Included."  
   
Mrs. King sacrificed college--working to send her guy,
Landing a Government Job with ultra, top-secret clearance, getting a Pat-down by the FBI;
Indeed, she met American Generals, including a singular Joint Chief of Staff,
All during the illuminating 60's, when Vietnam displayed 59,000 U.S. deaths on heartless graph.  
  

 

Parental Units (5)--Pop The Cork On Me, Baby.

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   "Parental Units (5)--Pop The Cork On Me, Baby."
  
Mr. & Mrs. King were two children in love,
And the corncob-craving, dissolute harridan would soon divorce their merry buzz;
Alas, for forty years I've never known my King Family,
Licking my dirty wounds while occasionally attempting to "Tie On" a drunken dandy.
   
   

Parental Units (4)--Going 2 California

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   "Parental Units (4)--Going 2 California"   
   
After engaging in matrimony with loving intent,
Now:  Mr. & Mrs. King anchored away from Pittsburgh's "tough guy district" rent;
Specifically, they youthfully adventured in a late 50's Ford to California--so golden,
Finding harbor in the City of Angels; still, a wicked witch was stalking with lava molten.