One can't class up a Porta Potty
With French or fancy works of art.
For each is like a ghetto squatty
Where one fears to sit... or even fart.
Classing It Up [Lyric Poem]
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One clump of flowers has the power
To lure the eye’s focus.
The background blurs as mind infers
Which hue shall be the locus.
You wouldn’t know him. The guy is kind of an arrogant prick.
Sakshi Bhavan, the dispassionate witness, giving feelings one’s full attention without allowing rumination that compounds the effect.
Not technically a strategy, but I think it’s on point.






Reading, walking, writing, swimming, thinking, and epic rap battles. You’ve only got one shot…