MOVE OVER NOSTRADAMUS, I SMELL YOUR FEET!

Move over Nostradamus, I smell your feet.
By james a. galgano

It is not okay this reflection only greets me rarely every night.
It is also quite foolish anyone I ever jilted or gipped had to look away or pretend to be polite as if giving head.
It's kind of sad the only words I have written we from some media word space begging for a dime.
Yet what would you expect today with gpi chat overlooking me for one nuance they might soon detect?
That would lead them to my secret bitcoin lair where any mother's hobbit is pretending to give a care
With no world war yet in sight Tolkien's prodigy might have better looked beyond tomorrow's unforgiving light
There are only elderly princes lame here or Trumpian some barker's flute gone flat while killing himself uptown street
life is all of this and more lets not forget pandemic bilking and Biden's son smelly billy Clinton feet
Maybe some pseudo historian on social media will rail off a book using unlikely sources futile and incomplete.
Such is our life in turmoil not from the book suppository or Watergate suite.
This is the 21st century maybe we should know how to do it all better than this not just another Shakespearian allegory nor gethsemane kiss.
This is supposed pretending to be not this life where some life maybe to be rehashed repeatedly.
There our foot gets in our way of a real story or will some left or right conspiracy fantasy find some way to suffice
Giving credence to our never bright and shining Capitol lie on this soon election eve 2024 November night!