Lexigrams of the Moment

He sits. He eats.

He eats then he shits, then he hates.

This is it.

He has a hasty hate.

Eat, shit, sit in a tie in a nasty snit, hate.

This is his sanity. Yes.

Yet this isn’t sanity.

His shame, sin is his hate.

He is nasty.

I HATE!

I stay nasty!

His shit is inane.

Is he insane? Sane?

Neat, antsy, nasty? Yes.

Shy? Thin? Easy? Nyet!

Hint: I am a ninny in a nasty snit as I sit in a tie.

Isn’t this neat?

Isn’t he nasty? YES!

I HATE THIS SHIT, YET I SIT IN THIS SEAT.

I am a smart, serious person.

I use pure reason.

I am sharp, harsh.

I stir it up.

I am Iranian.

At present, I am in Iran - in a panic, a stupor!

I am NOT a stupid, unchaste person.

Posture, poise, pristine, neat, crisp - a PRO at this.

I cut out a path to the top.

No one can - I CAN. I am the ONE.

Am I sure? Is this true?

In print, I post. I am on air. I am a STAR.

I harp on, I prate on.

I rise up, up, up to the top.

I plot out a map - a plan.

I chase, I race, I ACE. I am the champ!

Pour it on! I am the MASTER on this EARTH.

A true PRO!

In a panic, in Iran. The maniacs!

I stare at Iran … it’s not the same. I cherish it, I hate it!

Some Iranian men are SO stupid at times. I hate them!

I lear at them! Stop this!

Iran must stomp out its stupid men!

The past is the past. This IS true, isn’t it?

A rich price.

A heart, spirit is in Paris.

To rest, I camp out.

I must purchase a car!!

Heart, chest, panic > I must care!

Stain, shame, sin is this: I can ruin some men. So?

A cruel loner can teach one another to hate one another.

Rancor!

Count on a harlot, a tart, to teach hate.

Clout.

Count on her to rant, to teach hate, haunt a lot.

Can tear a heart out.

A real threat to another.

Halt her rancor, hate.

Care? Her? No.

Can’t care, no heart. No clue!

Her route? To counter another.

Counter another. A rout.

Alone, a loner.

Clean, neat, tho no heart, no care.

Teach hate. Let true hate out.

Court hate. Rent a hater.

Trace hate to her.

A REAL THREAT.

A hate teacher.

Chant, chant: hate.

Court a hater or Halt a hater.

Can’t tolerat_.

One can’t let a real rat teach hate.

A PURE CREEP, A PROUD PRICK PERCHED THE TOP - THE ‘REPORT THE TRUTH’ EMPIRE - REPORT PURE CRUD TO THE THICK HERD.

PUKE IT OUT - REPORT! TRICK THEM! MUCK UP THE TRUTH.

HE KEEP THE DOPE MIRED - MUD, MUCK. A CARD TRICK, A REPORT.

KEEP THEM TRICKED. MURDER THEIR HOPE.

OUR REPORT - A TOKE, COKE DOPE TO THEM, A TORTURED TRUTH.

Her? Ripe, rich, prim, pert, cute.

A torturer, a murderer.

I keep her / them - dark.

I hide. I direct.

The curt, proud Director here.

I pick out, hire the reporter.

I keep or drop him or her.

To report - chore, torture.

Put TEETH to it!

Report the pure truth?

Dupe the thick herd!

MURDER, TORTURE THE TRUTH.

MURDER, TORTURE THE THICK HERD.

Choke a chump.

Keep the report temp tepid to hot!!

Rip it up!! HIDE THE TRUTH!

REPORT PURE ROT.

KEEP THE THICK HERD - THE DARK!

DUPE the chump. Dump him. Put him out.

PRIME THE HERD - DUPE THEM. REPORT THE PURE TRUTH?

DROP IT. Hurt them, hit them! Murder them!

Chump! Dope! DUPE THEM.

I DEEM THE REPORT TRUE … I, ME!

I ORDER THE REPORTER TO DO THE REPORT!

I DIRECT! DUPE THEM!

The truth hurt me much.

TRUE.

HE HURT - A RICH PRICE.

Sharp talent George Stephanopoulos has been a popular host at a great table.

One has to suppose that George has spent hours to prepare superb ’stop-the-press’ platters at that table.

See, he has to plan; he’s not too sponta_eous.

As a general rule, our presenter sets out two or three ’soup-and-potatoes’ proposals.

He then gets two or three guests to posture on, share, argue or agree upon urgent, legal or global reports.

He pushes these guests to step along a gentle, pleasant path.

He’s not a robot, not a rogue. He’s not brash.

The guests share the tone that he sets; no one shouts, no one gets short (but George … he’s short).

As the guests are on a stage, on reel, laughter has a part.

Laughter soothes the rough spots.

People also sense George has a true, pure heart.

Oh! The bright guests he’s able to gather together!

‘Ere he postulate, he’s able to populate the stage: stars, reporters, legal reps.

Two store-houses help George prepare : A great guest pool, proposals to span an earth.

Oh! Here’s a notable post about George …

At George’s H.S., he starred at a sport.

He happened to be a grappler!

He also grappled later, as a host!

Always, always ire.

I really am a SORE LOSER.

Some say I am a liar.

So? I’m wily! Sly! So?

Losers really rile me.

Me? Moral? I say Yes!

I am a jewel! ME!

Really, I am immoral, amoral.

I am SO low.

I lie. I smear some. So?

Loser, Loser, Loser!

I am a liar, a worm.

Will I lie? Yes. Always. So?

I am always sore. I always yell.

I jeer. I smile.

As I maim some, I smile!

Some are so silly, so lame.

I earn millions as I say ‘ME ME ME!’

I am a joy!

I am a sly mole.

I am really a sore loser, so I smile as I lie, ream some.

My memories are / memory is so lame.

I seem mellow. Really, I am SORE!

More jails! More jails! War! War!

I really ail. I am ill.

All see me as a joy! I’m swell!

I’m merely sly, so?

Liars as I, air.

We also earn millions!

I smile, as I’m swell!

Swill.

Stop the theists, stop these rites!

His choice is this: A rector is shit.

Sheer heretic.

This priest, Christ shit is tripe.

Oh, Christ, this is rich.

He cheers to see one strip – this sort is a hit to Christopher.

He is in stitches (erection?) to see this.

He posts his speeches – his notes to the choir.

No one is his peer. He is ‘the one.’

He tries to stir the pot.

He hits others in his terse speeches, his posts.

No one tries to stop Christopher.

No one tops Christopher, either.

He is the one others cheer on.

He is hip.

His hip is sore. He chips his teeth.

This is his core: heretic, cretin, creep.

His sin? This heretic hits others in print. So?

His sport? In his pitches, he hits others’ rites in the chest.

He pitches ‘Stop this Christ, priest shit’ to others.

He sits here, there … No others sit there. He is one.

He tries to hint to one other – there is no nest, no rest. So, he cries on his porch.

Stop his pitch! Resist his pitch!

Stop this cretin! This creep!

Re: his pitch … the price is rich.

His chest is hit.

He cries – Oh, this is the shit, isn’t it?

He hopes this isn’t it.

I plan to star in print or in a post or on air.

In it, I plan to fight against far right.

At last! I star!

I post opinions online, in print.

I rant, I rail on air. I fight for right.

I rail, I rant in a post, in print, or on air.

Far right is a fright to Arianna, so Arianna hunts out far right and fights for right!

I fight for right! I rant! I rail!

I am a star in print! Rarist, purist star in print or on a post or on air.

I sort out far right situs in print.

I post on ‘Huffington Post.’

It hurts to print a lot of stuff on the far right!

Until this fight is lost, I sustain this fight; I go on posting!

A lot post also, as I.

It’s a lot of fun, this posting.

Sitting a lot — I got fat.

I sit-post, sit-post.

I also go out a lot.

I, a star, oft shot at - pot shots - as I go out or go on air.

I, not a liar.

Gruff, rough, tough Arianna fights, rants, rails for right in print, on air, as far right haunt Arianna.

A mad man, a bad man is on radio.

A gas bag on air and on drugs is so glum and so damn LOUD!

No songs - a bum rush.

Duh … dumb girls gush as Rush laughs. HUGS!

Ugh.

A big, loud, dumb, bold, bald man is on radio.

Harsh and brash.

A garish dumb lug.

I should hush Rush!

Glad, laughs and laughs hard, as harsh and bad.

Brags and grins.

A big loud gas bag laughs and laughs.

Goal: go on and on on radio — blah, blah, blah - no songs.

Sounds bad, so?

Mauls lambs, and glad.

I gush and I shrug. So?

I AM AN ASS.

Adore a dear son, a dear one.

He chases, corners persons, and renders scoops.

He shares scary escapades - CANDOR.

Anderson opens hard doors.

Ponder, prod, pry, pray.

Anderson - hands on.

Order a chopper, a schooner! Escape!

He cares and shares.

He’s scared, he crashes, drops.

As he does, does anyone see? Yes and no.

He’s sad and sorry.

He has no cares. He has peace.

HE HAS PERSON CARES.

He prays.  He has hope.

He opens doors.

He can say yes or no - he can choose.

He earns, he has cash, and he needs cash!

He drones on and on …. so he drops!

Anyone, any person he sees, he cares. He says, ‘Hey!’

He endears persons.

Deny no one care!

He speeds, he dares, he races. A chase! Yes!

He sees snares and prods.

He has reason and he has reasons.

He’s coy, shy, harps on and on.

He hears.

He reads and he reads persons.

Anderson ponders a scene, shares space, and spares no one as he prods.

No one can escape Anderson’s reason and candor.