What I said you can't define
A chill that runs down my spine
It lingers down my veins
Am I here? Am I sane?
You look at me like I'm crazy
You haven't said a word and just maybe
You want to leave
and let me be
I cannot move
I'm in the state of infirmity.
They call me ecstatic
In fact I am enigmatic.
I did it again and realized I am alive.
You cannot bare to see me here
In this insane trance I fear.
Just set me free
Into the rain, from all the pain
Down the drain, through the hole
I see no light, everything white.
I might be dead?
No more me sick in the head.
Life has become lucid,
but did you see what you did?
The power you had to make me mad?
Will you hark back to my old talk?
Or will you walk,
Away from me?
Leave me here
Let me be.

She's mine amare
I'll say it loud
Screaming bleeding
I'll rip out mine hair
Put mine soul on a plate
Blood in a glass
These eyes I shalt pull
And enlarge them on stakes!!!
I'll plunge into darkness
To find her queen ways
Kooky I am for her
An insanity ive become
I'll give her mine lips for plurals
I'll cut out mine tongue
To give her five minutes of happiness
Wherein we shalt be one
I'm wacky
Im lunatic
I'm batty
Im nutty
I'm chatty
When it comes
To showing off
Mine one and only
Amare!

For tis I loveth her so,
For others I dont care!!!

I ******* need you. I need you more than I've ever needed anything in my entire life and I know staying with you even though you're in love with morgan will hurt me like a ***** every single ******* day, but I can't be without you, I can't. I can't ******* be without you. I just hope that you will try and that I can help you try to get over her, and that eventually you will. Even if it will take years. You're my world. I'm so in love with you. I don't know what else to do. You're all I have. You're all I want. I've never tried so ******* ******* a guy before in my entire life, and I'm not going to just going to throw that away. I can't be without you. I don't know if I can do this, I don't know if I will be able to do this, but I know that I can't be without you. I just can't. We have been through too much. And right now my goal, my only goal, is to help you get over her, so you can stop hurting, and so that you can be in love with me, the kind of love where you know you're in love with me. Not just thinking you are. I don't ever want to stop being your girlfriend. I really don't. You are my life. You've been my life for the past 10 months, almost a year now. And I know this makes me sound crazy, I know it does, but I don't ever want to stop being your girlfriend, with the exception of me becoming more than that. I love you. I love you so ******* much and I'm going to continue to ******* say it for I love you as long as I feel the need to I love you because I feel I love you the need to tell you I love you every second I love you of every ******* day and I've never I love you felt that way before about anyone. I just hope that you still want to be with me, even though I'm so crazy. And I'm sorry. But I seriously can't lose you... I refuse to lose you unless you absolutely want to break up with me, because I don't want to be crazy and make you stay with me. God I already sound crazy. I don't know what to do Lorenzo. I'm saying what I'm thinking and what I'm feeling but I'm scared it's going to make you think I'm crazier than you already think I am and that you won't want to be with me, but I don't want this to be another note in my phone that I don't send you. I love you. I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you im sorry I'm crazy my fingers just couldn't stop typing it because I just couldn't stop thinking it. I'm so paranoid. I just want to be with you. Just you and me loving eachother and no one else. I want that. I want happiness for both of us. I love you I love you. God I meant to stop typing this so ******* long ago and even though I'm doing this a text I might just email it to you because I know your phone will probably just keep vibrating all night because of all my parts of this message coming in. I'm sorry for typing so much there is just so much on my mind and I'm so sad and I can't sleep and I want you here so badly and I want you to tell me that you love me and I want you to hold me and kiss me and make cute noises when you look at me and I want you to lay on my tummy and just I don't know I feel that if I put my phone down and stop typing that you're so far away from me, but I feel that if I keep typing in close to you and like I'm talking to you even though I'm only writing a message to you, and not having a conversation. And then again I'm sorry this is so ******* long because I know how much you hate long things like this because you don't want to read them, but I really really really hope you read this. Or at least skim through it really fast, I don't know. Like I don't know why I'm even typing out instruction type things for how could read it when this is the end of the message, or maybe it's the middle, I don't know how much longer I can keep going but I feel like I can keep talking to you forever. But anyways why am I telling you that now when I'm not even sure if you will be reading this far? I love you so ******* much. I don't know how to explain it. I know I've said all of these things before but you know me better than anyone in the entire world, I've told you things that no one in the entire universe knows but you. And I love you. I wouldn't be typing all this out if I didn't love you so much. I know I really don't need to say it, because I know that you know that I love you, but I really just can't stop thinking it. I can't stop thinking it and I'm just typing down whatever comes to mind. I just want to spend time with you. I want to talk to you and cuddle and just hang out without any shows playing, I want to play batty cake with you and take pictures with you and I want to cook with you and make forts with you and I know how much you hate cheesy stuff like that by I like it because it makes me feel loved. I love you. I love you so ******* much and I'm sorry I'm saying it again but like I said I can't stop. I really can't. I have no idea how much more room I have in this message, but I promise I will at least try to stop once I can't put any more characters into this chat box. I'm already at 5183 characters, and I'm sorry this is so ******* long and that I'm repeating myself so ******* much but I want you here and I want to be there and I want us to be happy and I want to work as a couple for a really long time. And I want us to be a couple for a really long time, or at least for until we don't want to be anymore, but I can't think of when I wouldn't want to be. Talking to tonight about the kaylee thing and just talking tonight in general made me feel like we took a step forward in our relationship and that we got even closer than we were before, and we were already pretty close, but then this whole thing came up and I just don't know what to do. I want everything to be back to normal, I want us to be happy I want us to hang out everyday and I want you to tell me that you're in love with me. I know I'm crazy. I'm seriously so crazy, but I'm only crazy for you. I care so ******* much and I want to be cared about back and I want to be told I love you by you and I want to live with you as soon as we are able to and I want you here right now. I love you so ******* much. So ******* much and I'm so ******* broken now and I hope I don't die in m sleep if a broken heart because I want you here so ******* badly and I'm going to hold captain tyeddy beat all night and just cuddle him and cry myself to sleep and try my hardest to get out of bed in the morning, and maybe I will ditch school and walk to your house, because you're worth walking to. I'm sorry if some of this stuff doesn't make sense im getting tireder and tireder and I'm still so sad just please love me, I want you to love me and I want you to be happy and I want to be with you and I can do this even though it's gonna hurt I believe you can get over her if you really try. I believe that you can. I want to help you and I want you to be mine and I want to be yours and I'm so sorry I just don't want to stop typing this because I feel like I'm talking to you and I feel like if I stop that I will have lost you and I know I've said that already but I mean it and I'm so paranoid. I don't know what to do. I can't stop typing but I'm so tired and my eyes are so ******* swollen that I can barely see but I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you so much. Your my prince and I'm your princess. I love you. I love you I love you. I'm going to send this now, I hope you get it. I don't know. I'm going to send it as a text and an email just in case you can't get it on your phone because it is too long and I'm sorry about that. I love you so much I love you so much. Please reply when you get this and I'm coming over tomorrow to hang out with you as soon as I possibly can. I love you. You're my everything. **** I keep saying my goodbyes but I can't stop typing. I'm sorry... I will send it now. I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you and I'm sorry that I'm crazy, I love you.

Thylacinus Cynocephalus.
Tasmanian Tiger, Tasmanian Wolf,
A crepuscular hunting nocturnal beast,
Carnivore by nature, feasted upon wallaby,wombats and roos,
Caught by female of the species,
Was he a feline or a lupine beast, hyena perhaps,
No, this strange creature now probably extinct was marsupial with pouch,
Female with pouch to grow her young, male had pouch of his own,
Protected his crown jewels within a scrotal pouch,
Appearance of a stripy dog,
Looked rather like a tiger,
Had amber eyes filled with fire,
This diamorphic beast, (Means the chap was larger)
Had four toes on hind feet and rigid tail of kangaroo,
It's gait was rather odd,
Could move like kangaroo, if it so desired,
Strange call, a guttural sound, alerted his family when he was abound,
Shy secretive little creature,
Kept himself locked out of sight,
For in the late 188os, early 1900s these creatures had a bounty on their heads,
The bounty hunters had such fun, left our world with nearly none,
Last beast in the wild as noted,shot by gun by Mr Batty,
1936 the last captive creature died in Hobart Zoo,
Reported name was Benjamin,
Book called The Djin-jum Man, said man, Batty man maybe, was cursed for killing the last of their kin,
Poor things,
Living legacy remains,
On Tasmania's coat of arms, two of these fine beasts support the islands emblem,
Probably gone but never overlooked,
Still being sought but never found!

By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
This was really difficult, hope its quite accurate!

Off the shoulder of Orion onto the arm of Perseus / in sentient skin sheathing the tingle of nerves / a mortal hunger for a view of the galaxy broader than the Milky Way / an awakened pulse in a soulless being / stronger, brighter, speedier, warrior / yet now, wiser / lover / beloved / thirsting for life / unafraid of who he is / never hidden in the arrow flailing off the arm of the Archer / a philosophical spiraling through a riot of 200 billion stars / looking inwards to what he may become //
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It was the existential philosopher Martin Heidegger (1889-1976) who described authenticity as choosing the nature of one’s existence and identity. He linked the concept of authenticity to an awareness of our mortality, positing that only in keeping in view the inevitability of death can one lead a truly authentic life.

Heidegger, Sartre and Camus among others have all discussed and debated the idea of authenticity, free will, freedom of action being a path to self realization etc. I enjoy the thoughts of these erudite thinkers and it brought to mind the most moving death speech ever recorded in cinematic history, that of the replicant Roy Batty from Ridley Scott’s ‘Blade Runner’ (1982). It is supremely poetic and for a replicant who tried in the course of the film, to find the meaning of his life and a way to increase his lifespan, it is filled with reflection in an awareness of an authentic self and a regret in his imminent mortality. The 42 word monologue what Rutger Hauer (who plays Roy) delivered after he had his way with the original version.

Tears in the Rain

“I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. Time to die’.

I have enjoyed the idea of the search for a meaning of life by AI that lack human consciousness. It’s a beautiful riveting moment in the film where the empathy one feels for someone striving to be human is much more than one would feel for detective Rick Deckard (played by Harrison Ford), who projects himself throughout the movie as less human and more of a replicant. What is authenticity? For an observer, it would be Roy Batty’s deathbed regret of not having lived to the potential he assumed he had if his lifespan were extended. It is the pain of losing his lover in the course of the film, the opportunity and the ability to show compassion to an assassin like Deckard, the hope of learning to be sentient, an escape from slavery of AI. This movie is quite a treat for the understated screenplay, the poignant moments, the inherent philosophical questions that arise. This poem is my tribute to Roy Batty who I believe, appears more human than a human would strive to be.

People are loopy
People ain't right
Inside of their heads
Out of their minds

People are nutty
Loco coco bean
Imaginary buddies
Putty for brains

People are batty
Fruit loops that fly
Come in different colors
Confetti minds

People are special
They say with a wink
Jumped the train trestle
Over the brink

Pick one or the other
No answer is wrong
It's all the above
When people are off

a watched *** never boils,
shine red letters, “9:09”
a watched wrist will not cut itself
this wristwatch won’t keep time

my pockets they are full of sand
i think i need a drink
but the bottles are all filled with ships
the salt is full of sink

the kitchen drawers are filled with clothes
the bedroom tile’s stained
theire’s bodies lying in the tub
i flushed it down the drain

“it hurts, it hurts!” i cry out
through the painting on the bed
the pink and blue’s a vivid grey
that noose i made from thread

“BATTY, BATTY, LITTLE ONE”
a psychic claiming womb
“we lies, we lies” he hollers back
a whisper, shoebox tomb

when tap run dry tap tap a vein
i wait ‘fore you(r) reply
the alphabet’s your master now
subvide by multiply

my my my you’re growing
every new voice looks the same
each set of eye’s thats staring back
deferent different game

the early bird just passed we
floating downward wrinkled skin
worm slither in your fat cells
to your wheels on broken rim

we’ve eaten all my vegetables
i’m eating all that’s green
whom made you king i’m paying
there is something underseen

name starts to sound familiar
daily hourslongs each week
enough milk baby didn’t drink
she too loud when i speak

i cut back on the coffee
i’m not laughing, ha ha ha
one tweak, I’m boiled water
it’s 9:10, a smoking ***

This is the house of Bedlam.

This is the man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

This is the time
of the tragic man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

This is a wristwatch
telling the time
of the talkative man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

This is a sailor
wearing the watch
that tells the time
of the honored man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

This is the roadstead all of board
reached by the sailor
wearing the watch
that tells the time
of the old, brave man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

These are the years and the walls of the ward,
the winds and clouds of the sea of board
sailed by the sailor
wearing the watch
that tells the time
of the cranky man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

This is a Jew in a newspaper hat
that dances weeping down the ward
over the creaking sea of board
beyond the sailor
winding his watch
that tells the time
of the cruel man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

This is a world of books gone flat.
This is a Jew in a newspaper hat
that dances weeping down the ward
over the creaking sea of board
of the batty sailor
that winds his watch
that tells the time
of the busy man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

This is a boy that pats the floor
to see if the world is there, is flat,
for the widowed Jew in the newspaper hat
that dances weeping down the ward
waltzing the length of a weaving board
by the silent sailor
that hears his watch
that ticks the time
of the tedious man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

These are the years and the walls and the door
that shut on a boy that pats the floor
to feel if the world is there and flat.
This is a Jew in a newspaper hat
that dances joyfully down the ward
into the parting seas of board
past the staring sailor
that shakes his watch
that tells the time
of the poet, the man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

This is the soldier home from the war.
These are the years and the walls and the door
that shut on a boy that pats the floor
to see if the world is round or flat.
This is a Jew in a newspaper hat
that dances carefully down the ward,
walking the plank of a coffin board
with the crazy sailor
that shows his watch
that tells the time
of the wretched man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

I remember quite distinctly
The night the Angel came
Hovering above my field
And calling me by name

Fred, the Angel yelled to me
Waking all my sheep
I yelled "you stupid ****** twit"
I've just got them to sleep

He said a king was born to man
And I must go to see
I said, "I've got these bleating sheep"
I don't do this for free

The angel said follow the star
All the way to Bethlehem
I told him, you must be ****** daft
My next shift starts at ten

I've been around the world a bit
And I've seen a lot of stunts
But this angel hung right in the air
And his wings did not flap once

He said there is a child
And he will be the King of Kings
I didn't really listen much
I was still watching those **** wings

The sheep were going batty
The field was bight as bright could be
I said, of all the shepherds round here
Why did you come wake me?

He said to travel swiftly
And to follow yonder star
I said, I'm off to bed mate
I'm not going on that far

Then there came a bolt of lightning
He had barbecued a ewe
I thought this bird means business
I mean just what could I do?

I left my flock with Charlie
The shepherd two fields over one
And I said I'll be back soon mate
I'm off to see the holy son

I met up with some others
All of us had the same tale
Of an angel flinging lightning
So we all felt we best bail....

I got there in December
I'd been travelling for months
The only thing I thought of
Those wings...did not move once

There inside a manger
behind an inn...full up each day
Was where I saw a vision
I'll remember to my last day

Three wise men dressed in robements
A little kid, and his tin drum
Some donkeys and a camel
The baby Jesus and his mum

Dad, was in the corner
All alone hanging his head
He said "How could this have happened"
"I never left the bed"

I looked upon the baby
And I looked down upon that face
He looked at me and smiled
You could feel a state of grace

I really didn't know then
What I was here to do
But, now I know my task was
To tell everyone I knew

So, I started out on homeward
To tell old Charlie of the kid
I picked him up a present
Yep..that's exactly  what I did

I guess the world must owe me
and this I 'll stand and shout
You could consider my gift to Charlie
Was the first true  gift given out

Now, I sit and watch the sheep here
People come up just to see
The shepherd who started gifting
The shepherd...that is me!!!

The familiar rush
of adrenaline hits
almost cripplingly


Your hands have
become adjusted
to my every curve


My eyes dart
my voice becomes
a thick, heavy syrup


I flinch at first
but it switches to
thrashing about


Even just sitting
in your near vicinity
drives me batty

the memories
at least those pre - incept date
are presented in shuffle mode
designed to initiate during down time
when heart rate slows
less random and more vivid than human
Roy had no idea
until now
that he could very well be dying
he seemed to be thinking outside the realm
of typical replicant query

why were his dreams ending before completion
his ravenous appetite diminishing
his fixation with the moon now fading

death comes quickly to the replicant
no long suffering illness
many humans must face
the clock stops ticking
and the implants die first
leaving the final few moments
all his, all Roy

were his tears
like his memories
lost in rain
perhaps his most human trait
is revealed in his final moments
the acceptance of death
amid the realization he had lived

magdalene just wanked off st. peter,  and i’m like...
magdalene just wanked off st. peter.,
the pope was caressed by tabloid headlines...
and jesus did a miracle streak of ****-smear in leather,
gagged the dsm iv into s & m translation;
i used to play the guitar once... but i got choreographed
into a back-up dancer / mimer role -
and then i sold 1million singles in the first hour of the realese.*

self-love amiss is a potato patch of the revelatory,
self-love quotes from what the greeks missed
in threes: the furies stagnated into the eye of the graeae;
i can write about my ~**** life
in the same way you write to idealise your **** life,
9/5 on the black mustang... who ran out from the better’s
sardine packing of expected, tight...
he’s got life... not a reminder of a cloned bricklayer
for a bricklayer just to suggested a bowtie of an accent:
i will not make england my home just because i can speak it...
i’ll speak english so well i’ll make the english feel
like lower class... if not migrants;
and i did... some boy from cyprus thought i was posh
enough to practice conservatism at a private school teaching
that mathematics using a, b c, d, semi-colon... ah... grammar;
unless of course it was all rather unnecessary,
then i abide by the law of knock down ginger...
and walking beneath the a12’s batty man’s legs sign for gills.

I am Elizabeth Bathory
I go batty on these princesses,
Bath on the blood of Jasmine,
That is where I get fragrance,
No reflection in the mirror,
Since I am the palest,
Eating Belle(a) like the Beast
But I do it after Twilight,
Tangled Charlotte in a Web,
And unleash the animal within,
Dye my hair with so much red,
Rapunzel would faint,

I am the Un-dead,
A Sleeping Beauty,
The Countess of Castle Disney,
There are no Once upon A Times,
With Me.

A belittled heaven, I never am yearning at

It was impassable, like love

A long wait, and you stay beside

eager to hold, even razor's edge.

Can’t wait to be seventy
With knees that hang
Like fleshy skin tags
Over my knee highs
And Custard feet
All squelched into my Clarks.

No prunes
In my grocery basket
Just lots of cheese
Chocolate and beer
Which will make me gassy
So I’ll ask for a backrub
To get my wind up.

I’ll say those things
I’ve always wanted to say
And not come off
Like a social landmine
Because people will just think
I’m batty.

They’ll smile
And nod
And make corkscrew gestures
Behind my back
But I won’t care.

I shall say
**** a lot
Because people
Will not expect that
From a portly granny
With a blue rinse.
But I shall never be unkind
Of all of the ugly words
You can use
**** is probably
The most benign.

I shall read great books
Filled with ideas
And speak to the deaf geriatrics
In the old folks home
And say things like-
So what did you think of that?
And even as they
Clutch their hearts
To prepare for their exit
From this world
I shall say-
I feel that strongly too
And in this way
Everything shall
Be part of my interlude
It shall all be about me
Me
Me
Me

"I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tanhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time like tears in rain. Time to die."
*-Roy Batty

Swallowing dejection
The throat is throbbing
Fog is appearing
And smoke is covering
A reclusive setting
With no more company

An obstinate mind
Eyes set on you
Batty and insane
The color turns blue
Wasted feelings
Drunk off tears
Minimal breathing
The end is near.

I stagger cold through the halls of my indoctrination.
I do not wish to be seen.
A thousand ******* eye's gawk silent from there checker pattern perches
and my chains and prizes jingle
and attract stares
with each bounding step.
I can no longer stand my hours in this house of heresy.
Loose lipped **** lovers
spill secrets over bile chowder
chuckling about a days delicacies
and social secrets.
Second rate at best,
they all know there lover boy on the Hollister bag
probably takes it in the *** more than the average ***
and still they swoon blind batty eyed at the queens that prance the halls.
I am unamused
Feel abused
giving out my finest hobby to any takers.
I'm being used.
How am i supposed to ******* death sweet and smokey at this rate.
Like some fluff tailed hair
I hustle off with my ticking life in toe
the numbers at my waste spell ruin.
I'm late.
I'm late.
If only I had some red haired queen of hearts
to behead me.
A better fate.

They say this Covid Plague came from bats.
I picture a great black cave
Filled with bats
Crammed into the crannies –
Locust swarm sardines,
Those Covid spike-*****
Rubbing their hands with glee.

So what happens when Lockdown Eases?
Swarms of sheeples
Dancing in the streets
Squeezing together
In a ***** fuelled frenzy
Just like those bats.

Except the bats remain sober:
They only do what they do
Knowing no other.
But We have no excuse.
We have the intelligence
To see
That this is wrong.
Yet we choose NOT
To act smart.

No, we risk all –
Risk a lonely breathless death
And anonymous incineration
Away from our friends and kin
Just for a ***** lash
Out on the crowded town.  

Will We ever Learn?
I’m afraid
It might be a long time coming.

Paul Butters

© PB 5\7\2020.

I tried but the deafeating sound of death captured me
Tore away the shreds of dignity laying peacefully
And I screamed to the damp grasses to let me free
But they withered away in cunningness for sanctuary.

So next day I got up and washed my hands and face
Found a pretty, party dress with contemporary lace
Bought a raspberry cake filled with artificial cream
And danced with dear Batty, Foggy and a spoon.

Life breaks hearts and fills this world with pain
It was in the beginning and still is just the same
But Pooh and Piglet, walk down a country lane
And Hundred Acre Wood is a lovely place to play.

Love to all Mary ***

Me names Jane, they say I’m insane,
I’m insane Jane, yep, that’s me name,
I’m chatty, batty sometimes catty,
Predictable, despicable I find everythin lickable,
I’m mad and bad and sometimes glad, to be called insane,
Me name is Jane, insane Jane,
I’m ecstatic erratic, quite diplomatic, so why lock me in the attic and watch me acrobatic off the walls the halls in me under smalls, I will have a ball and you’ll hear me call.
I’m insane Jane coz that’s me name,
I’m a poet I know it but I don’t always show it,
I write I bite I like a good fight,
I can talk and walk I like to squawk, like a bird…..  its absurd,
I’m crackers, run round in me under knackers, but I’ve got NO mental backers,
I’m on the street, bare feet no -where to eat, I’m full of deceit,
Got me life in a bag, I wear a tag and I don’t like to brag,
It’s a shame coz I’m insane,
It’s the government, their document, not my intent they overspent,
No room for me, they set me free to live and be a refugee,
I get frantic, I’m pedantic always apologetic,
I need some aid, and lemonade,
Someone to care, brush me hair, tell me what to wear,
They want me to work, but I’m berserk, I fit, I ****, I’m like a firework,
I scream, turn green be very obscene,
I’m psychotic neurotic; I go of like a rocket,
I’m a danger, deranger not a campaigner,
I’ve lost all me hair when I lost me care, I live no-where, it’s just not fair,
I need support not court, give me a thought, I’ve not been taught,
I’m not like you its true, it’s nothing new,
I’m Jane, far from plain, and I’m insane,
BUT I’M NOT TO BLAME

By Christina Ford

Brrr
As the ice drops drop
from gutters,
as I make my way
along
on my missions.
It's so cold
sometimes;
I just don't know how
to bundle up right
how I got the chills
especially
when I don't know
what to do or where to go
when I first get the shivers
from the brrr cold.
There are all sorts or nuances
to being out in the cold
that drive me to
frustration,
drive me batty really,
like how the temperature
drops suddenly at duck and rises barely at dawn
how little drops people
in behavior
are spawned
how you just can't even yawn
and wait to see
on the road a fawn
Oh well that's
probably not scratching
the surface
in everything
apparently
but that's life
best I can do
on how to deal with the cold.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

The voices are ringing in my ears, a thundering conundrum I have yet to figure out. He's screaming, no he's whispering, oh I can't tell anymore, from a thunder to a shiver its all the same to me I'm deaf I'm blind I see with echolocation I am a bat in its cave begging to see the light though I know it burns.

Each sentence blurs to the next a word a whisper oh there I go with whispers again did I forget a comma, some punctuation? Sorry my mind is a mile a minute when it feels such frustration in its bones that it cannot feel its toes anymore.

Wait, my brain doesn't have toes.

Nonsense. I am practically a wonderland character with all my nonsensical drivels about love and mania and speed and tears and lust and death. Give me a hat and I'm practically batty, my good sir. I will make a march with my hair and wish you a very merry un-death-day, or however that goes.

Falling down my rabbit hole, no my cave, I'm a bat, remember? I have found a way to fall sideways right into your heavy arms and you stare at me aghast, for I am not who you once thought I to be. There is a face for each hue, each color of my pigments, I'm a leaf, each season brings out a different color, well unless your coniferous but that is besides the point and very much more about needles, but I digress.

Wait, I'm a bat. What is this nonsense about leaves?

Sit down at my table and I will explain it all to you dear, how my brain is wired like a ticking time bomb, ready to set off at any moment, particularly if my pretty little pills aren't butterflying in my bloodstream, those little friends of mine simply forgetting a swim day.

Funny how one day without them can be average or it can be, well, this. Quite mad, isn't it? Tick tock, tick tock. The mouse ran up the clock, the clock struck twelve and the bat swept down and the mouse is left to rot. Tick tock, tick tock.  

Give me a cat or two and then there's a name for me, but I bet your bottom dollar every single one is a chesire, grinning, tormenting, taunting, killing. They reflect the little demons in my heart.

Have you ever been so afraid of your own reflection, or the butter knife at the end of your table, and how it might just slip into your fingers at ever the wrong moment and you might regret your next action for the rest of your life? I've only once or twice, but it was a once too many, and now I'm terrified of that little butter knife resting on the end of my table, taunting my demons, knowing how much I fear them.

Should I be a true ****** and enter a hospital? No, I will never learn honesty, all these thoughts kept up in my pretty little head will never leave my pretty little head, they enjoy their tenancy too much. Just pop the pills, Grace, darling, and everything will be ok.

A few more hours, and then I can be reunited with my dear little friends, and like the good little bat I am, recoil back into my cave, and let the butterfly angler I wiggle out be the beautiful front everyone sees. No mad hatter, no march hare, no alice, not even a bat. A pretty butterfly that everyone loves.

If only they knew what this butterfly had behind her; a cave full of wonderland.

And everyone should be afraid of that.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

I'm somewhere and nowhere.

Hear me out. This isn't meant to be profound or riddling, just me. Granted I throw up walls like a kid who ate too much cake on his birthday, but today its just me. I promise.

I know that can hard to believe, even for me. Some days I'm euphoric, some days I'm broken, or bitter or boisterous or batty. But today, I'm in between. Not in the extreme sense I'm used to, where I'm either depressed like crazy and happy like crazy and mad like crazy. None of me is crazy right now. And oddly enough that terrifies me.

I'm not happy, but I'm not sad. I'm not even feeling nothing. I'm ******* normal. I'm fine with where I am but at the same time I'm progressing forward, happily. Is this what it feel like to not be an alien?

My dad told me joking stories about how I was an alien dropped on the front yard when I was really young, but oddly enough he wasn't far off. I spent most of my childhood feeling incomplete, incomprehensible, like a human face hiding some sort of monster behind. I had a distinct instinct that the way I had to live through childhood was to hide, to keep secrets, to create parapets of stone around me to keep the people out, and to more importantly keep me in.

I grew up and hiding grew harder as the monster grew bigger, and I couldn't renovate fast enough for it. It eventually broke out of its stone home, and I was exposed. The alien girl was visible for all to see. It created chaos and it took a long time before I could feel human. I grew friends and a sewn together personality and threw my feelings into my writing, my work.

But today, something new happened. It was unlike any mood I had ever felt. I wasn't me anymore. Or, at least the me I had grown to know. I was exhausted but awake, and productive but not nearly as enthusiastic, and okay with who I was but willing to work towards something 'better'. I always considered better as something very subjective, but somehow today normal things seemed more... normal. Having a schedule, changing myself for the better even if I'm happy, setting random short term goals to make my life feel more... I don't know. Meaningful I guess? My life felt meaningful before but in this new body that feels so "normal" or "average", its like I'm working to be normal.

Its terrifyingly soothing. Its like the normal-ness lulls you into into thinking a normal life is ok. And not saying being normal is wrong. But I've lived a life being abnormal, being an outlier, an outsider, an oddity. This lullaby feels so wrong.

I always told I've learned to appreciate my condition because I don't think I could handle being normal, having less intense emotions, not understanding emotion so well. Its sounds stupid, it sounds like its glorifying mental conditions, but its not. I know the suicidal thoughts aren't good, and I know mania is danger. But I cannot help like feeling like I'm losing me.

I cannot even get myself to sob right now, or to even truly feel a suicidal thought. They won't stick. Not even for a minute. None of it. I;m ******* terrified but I can't feel I can't make myself feel who am I?

I can't be normal. I can't.

This is more maddening then the moods. Maybe I was hitting too close to home when I hypothesized a person from Wonderland would feel utterly insane in real life. Or worse, feel even crazier when sanity began creeping up on them.

I don't want to lose Wonderland. I don't know what to do. I don't know who I am. Who is residing in this body right now, whoever is containing my thoughts, it cannot be me.

I cannot let all of my insanity go.

Normal doesn't feel better, and **** all the people who think its the only way to go. Normal isn't an aspiration, its a cage, and I will not be imprisoned.

Al I can do is find a way back to Wonderland losing all control. I guess that's what I truly wanted. Not sanity, but control. Controlled chaos had always been a favorite of mine, after all. There is always a method to the madness, and I must find mine, because I certainly cannot live without it.

Who knew Grace would have to remember how to be crazy?

I refuse to be normal. I refuse to be in-between. I will always belong to Wonderland, to madness, and **** whoever says that's not a proper life.

Its the life for me, so frankly, I don't give a ****.

By: Cedric McClester

When it comes to six-month-old baby Jim
Yo’ *** is clearly out on a limb
You are the one who fathered him
So you better be runnin to an ATM
What the hell did you expect
Having unprotected ***
It’s unjustified under any pretexts
But ******* are not intellects
Your DNA tells the tale
The moment that you slip or fail
To pay support you’ll go to jail
And you cannot afford the bail
So I’d pay up if I were you
The things you said were not true
If she’s a ** then what are you
Cos you went ******* riding too

Where does he find ‘em (I don’t know)
The guests seen on the Maury Show
When it comes to ... (oh **** here we go)
You are the father (***** don’t you know?)

The girl comes on and says she’s sure
But he calls her a **** and *****
Because they did it on the floor
And she has slept with countless more
Then she says Maury look at that baby
There’s no ifs, ands, buts or maybes
That’s his child (the one he gave me)
I can’t believe he’s gone and played me
Suspense is building on the set
The test results aren’t in yet
But he’s prepared to make a bet
And obviously she’s upset
Once the answer has been found
They both start jumpin up and down
Then she don’t wanna stick around
Her reputation’s in the ground

Where does he find ‘em (I don’t know)
The guests seen on the Maury Show
When it comes to ... (oh **** here we go)
You are the father (***** don’t you know?)

You’d think she’d be embarrassed, yo
But she’ll be back show after show
Claiming she just wants to know
Who’s her baby’s daddy – Oh!

Changing partner like a necklace
How can people be that reckless
She’s so gangsta she reflects this
I’ll be ****** (she’s got a checklist)
Scratchin off names (one by one)
She’s on page two and still not done
Guess you could say she’s had her fun
But she wasn’t the only one
Given all the STDs
That are out there (if you please)
They should be hogtied and seized
Or forced to bow down on their knees
I bet straight *** was not enough
They’ve probably done some other stuff
See tongue disease can be real rough

Where does he find ‘em (I don’t know)
The guests seen on the Maury Show
When it comes to ... (oh **** here we go)
You are the father (***** don’t you know?)

Look at those who’ve come and went
Though that wasn’t their intent
Most of ‘em can’t catch a hint
See they’re beyond embarrassment
All because they shook their fatties
At all of those potential daddies
None of whom wore Jimmy hatties
Now those mommas goin batty
Watch and pray that it’s not you
None of ‘em have a clue
Wouldn’t you have thought they knew
Who they’re giving their stuff to
But that would be too **** easy
Look at ‘em they sure look greasy
Some of ‘em are down right ******
And none of ‘em are built to please see

You’d think she’d be embarrassed, yo
But she’ll be back show after show
Claiming she just wants to know
Who’s her baby’s daddy – Oh!

Where does he find ‘em (I don’t know)
The guests seen on the Maury Show
When it comes to ... (oh **** here we go)
You are the father (***** don’t you know?)

When it comes to six-month-old baby Jim
Yo’ *** is clearly out on a limb
You are the one who fathered him
So you better be runnin to an ATM
What the hell did you expect
Having unprotected ***
It’s unjustified under any pretexts
But ******* are not intellects
Your DNA tells the tale
The moment that you slip or fail
To pay support you’ll go to jail
And you cannot afford the bail
So I’d pay up if I were you
The things you said were not true
If she’s a ** then what are you
Cos you went ******* riding too


(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester.   All rights reserved.

Eurasian roller birds
exist in the ecosystem
just as
I do.

When approached by perceived danger
Fight or Flight is feigned
Only remaining--wreaking self-destruction
Our wild flighty friends
Literally ***** all over their beautiful shells
in order to save themselves from suffering

Half digested disgust exposed on wings
arrests their blue beaming light

Eight years ago you climbed up to my nest
and held out your incredible love
Regurgitation immediately followed
Along with green abusive fear
I clung to my cloak of worms and saliva
You just laid down beside me
in digested stench

Multiple times you cleaned me up
licked up the pain
Accepting the disgust,
Realizing quickly
You could not clean a lover who aches
to be bent over, pale skinned, and protected

I fled from nest
and you did too my dear
we couldn't sit with the offensive smell any longer
My wounds were too porous
my pain, invasive

The foul smell that the roller exerts
is also meant to alert the parents to flee back to nest
and protect their blue babe

When I cracked from shell and entered the world
with slit eyes
There were thousands and thousands of threats
and the excretion was not enough
I did not get eaten up by the masses
but I did allow myself to become what I had eaten
infantile self-protection morphed into
Pervasive self-destruction.

Our nest kept singing back to us,
Our love entwined and weaved in with twig
Like haunted batty lovers
Pulled back in to vile

Finally finally finally finally     fin a lly
I allowed the digestion
of your love
There were my bursting blue feathers
Sterile and glowing
Our nest safe from
my internal predator
And you, finally safe in my love.

“The Revenant”(Ghost Song Inspiration)
Awake yearning Asleep
Barnacles of riveted keel ajar with wonder keepsakes to sweep
Traipsing the moonlit path between equidistant insanities
Billowing fumes of rage fulgurant in the vogue modality
Whispering 9 Billion hymns to an immemorial cemetery
Silenced by shattered quakes rumbling in the deep forest
Imagined long ago yet again…
Surfing the few fragile crestfallen waves Tighter Nooses in tsunamis on Portugal in the eleventh month hanging ten
Fragile swoons of kenspeckel verbatim echoed in hallowed halls of evening Diaspora gilded in excellence
Limit is no boundary to the timeless clock of tilted tendencies towards barbed decadence
Revelry is no artifact tethered to a patibulary pole folded in the pokerish sneakthievery of triumphant owl’s night
We laugh like soft mad children waxing the candlelit vigil of barren Beirut struck down with ultrageous fright
Cackling as misfortune trespasses are shot on sight
That The Remedy asphyxiates National Anthem hues
Slippery in the crevasse of caffeinated daydream sues
Toasting butter cretaceous with wonder a lapse of sentience is its ultimate blunder of 1015 Rooz
Because the tottering paragon overlooks his habitable tomb
Bequeathed in Nero’s fright askew for the itching view
Spawned instants of thunderous applause serenade the weaning night littered with dancing fragments of illusion
Time is no object to objective dimples on Helicopter dime
Swank is no subject because the predevoted pause owes all to cadence of currency in the heyday of sublime
Long-winded but curt
Outskirts to every vacant and inhabited skirt suburban to muses crooning with antiquity destitute with forbidden flirt
Livid with indignation over fallen hands outstretched to unheralded bands
Simpering with scalded water of tattered whisper of the nauclatic heralds of sunrise over moonlight land
Effort is no music without tragedian Shakespearean rebuke
Taylor’s stop-and-go with flashlight frisk a Pharaohs’ Zion too much of a Fluke
Greco-Roman travesty blinks with scary flicker in an alpenglow Apollon stained-glass window summit
Dirges always precede precipitate glamour aflame with spectral filibustered blight and plummet
besieged by fallen wonders
Sunken by echoes of consequence in Heavy Metal Thunder
Glimpsing the Revenant of a future tango with backwards sentinels of séance
Grief overtakes the rejuvenated sunlit hike
Hitched by Horses with No Name Painless by harnessed spike
Of a Roadhouse Blues not Red enough for the Scarlet Letter Hues of Bill the Butcher White with Tweed nullifying his diacopes of spite
Cadence peerless paling to mirrored reflection of recapitulated mated soul
Limpid nexility that ghosts flex with reflective Jazzy soul
Jailhouse rocking Malone swerves with jaunt
Easy to dance easier to flaunt
Dastardly darts four score and seven jerseys ago
The seamstress of violence alacrity to sow
Vindication belonging to orphaned asylum 44th
A King lost too soon because of masons coming fourth
Degrees of Solomon rustling through A Biff’s Palace
Jimpster hitman an Akabu of hustled alarm pegged to wild shadows dancing a delicate filigree of spawn and spark
To the plug anointed by tethered Cable Guy treason
Few vigilantes of Batman’s caliber yet to reason
In the Revenant’s wake of fallen timbers of Sunset Strip
Reapers prowl with the tide of Bruno Mars RIP
That he sprawls in survival a hat too generous to tip
Uptown Chelsea in uproar as auditoriums fill with hedged victims of sense and sensibility etched in Gore
Lone Pine Mall stranded by conflagration of bulletproof lore
Clowns dedicate independence while crowns croon ***** repentance
For a forlorn starvation of cities of jackals sailed to sentence
Dripping with a faucet of ghostly haunts
Kapstone Paper in Kansas verging on misery wants  
Yet Bleeding American with French-British hues
The world’s lovelorn starlet yet too swollen to amuse
Stark travesty in fatuous emoluments to Walter White vanity
A current streak unbeaten because of realism in Virtual Insanity
A Joker’s Gamboled revenge skittish in sketchy chalkboards of ossified prestige
Left to the milk carton missing is yet another Abandoned Pools squeeze
The Young Robot scared to Fly-by-Night in the pathway of terminal poignant disease
A punitive prison worthy of the cackles of Dinosaurs besieged by Mr. Freeze
Folksy natatoriums agape with bathhouse squalor
Every hierodule a ******* to the witwanton bottom dollar
For the buggery of a Titanic warning towering ever taller
Stilted Wilts 50 a game warbles without Chinese glowers of Silk Road Silk
An albatross of agrarian hubris is how Ping-Pong Champions were eventually built
Hollywood’s grotto a despairing bravado
Of a masonry skyscraping a surpassed entelechy of a half-known tomorrow
Escape malingering and dare to dream
Listless maneuvers of space a hipster jam of the rollicking heyday of a fortress of a team
That I brandish with pride and retrospective snide
How perjury Underoath is a much better bribe
Air Force pride against Scorched Earth fallow because of a wayward bride
The Spectrum of Casper is galloping in deceitful degrees of a piety too wide
Swayed by Swayze pretended or lazy
The whole world in centration glistens with the fashionable crazy
Electromagnetic Detroit a rumpus for Notorious donnybrooks of a Gretchen cloaked too tight for Avalanche brawls cemented in burgundy and white
Industrial locomotives bulldozing Buffaloes of a Boulder fraternity too leaky to always be right
Scattered on Dawn’s Highway Bleeding crowded by a sing-song peril by design
That deference is reference to rappers glistening in surrealism ripe and prime marveling at the Ace of Military Base’s glaring Sign
Lethal Killers on patrol roaming Earthquake plodded land
Count the number of hairs of vitriol in silicon purebred amicable handfuls of wafting sand
Drifting in Mescaline ends at the periphery of Desert Movies Goldmines for Choosing
The Native American Jabberwocky or Mulder’s Father’s dying musing neither of which is favorable to boozing
The Brown doctor disfavored by armed aristocrats is always alive and rarely unbuttoned when snoozing
Flynn torches bemuse the tattered knight
Presumptuous Arthur is only on the quorum when consentience of accord is proven right by both deed and prescient light
Hardly a sidesplitter for a curveball time
California Love is plastered with rivalries of NorCal grime
Of the greatest Banana Slug Fiction flagrant with Quinntessential clairvoyance of a deceased 60’s crime
A dead queer lollygag belonging to the advice of a Pearl Jam Jeremy’s erasure of snares of beleaguered blasphemous chyme
Nonlinear spurts fielded by stolen bases of paralyzed rebuffs rather curt
A rapper worthy of the stage rarely an actor beyond a churlish vendetta hurt
Yet I dazzle the lingerie of even the most guarded skirt
The kiln of machination is a wedding of guarded betrayals of Monster Mash extortion
Alexisonfire a harbinger to the world’s belabored victory over corrugated striptease contortion
Thursday is a miraculous noise of shattered glass
Inertia knows ventriloquial varnish of shattered bones and tempted blood dripping in crematorium ash
Yet I survive with a Jive walk and a sardonic wagtail flock
Of the best patronage of cognoscenti shockwaves of bonanza stocks stalked like a swarpollock locket invisible to Tik Tok
I’m the best hip-hop in the game beyond the treachery of retreads of psychobabble inane
I strut like magic belonging to the sanitorium of the edgy swank of modest profane
Granite defected is my cement planet infesting the game like Boardwalks on the revived Titanic
Aliens headbash the gamut of my spangled manic
Ghost Ridin’ Raiders of the Lost Arc leads to hysterical panic
Indiana laughs at Elway’s squirrel because he bolted Baltimore with a baseball pretense for a sexier girl
When the rigmarole of genius aligns infamy bails out the oyster aphrodisiac of a Heart of the Ocean pearl
Time is a self-referential quisling of a monarchy built of subtle curling
A bored sport dazzling with scintillation in recursive zeal unfurling
A Canada Dry livid stargazer dozes on Oiler comets meteoric as hydroponics
**** quaffs the lazy lollygag rarely hooked on the righteous phonics
But no distaste to the canine game
I am well beyond the distance to the lethargy of NV in shame
Bear Bryant on Rushmore flowing high
Jetsetting across Pink Floyd’s lurid Clear Blue Skies
George trampled by Chauvinist monsters
Zuckerberg and Gates are honkies betting on bonkers loud both in Boston and in Yonkers
100 Billion of counterfeit souls sold to slot machine mannequins quite droll
Someone needs to devour their corner like a Revelations sour-tasting scroll
Tagged to apothecary mountebanks of Trey’s on repeat
A hard-won small Utah town harder than Joe Montana to beat
Bypassed hack of time Luminosity the adultress of 1693 regaled as a freakish feat
Time simpers to Spirit of Grace graven kantikoys in Seattle Graveyards blemished by dancing Creep
The Idioteque squalor of bemused negligence in a flooded Avatar Jurassic Park Jeep
I recall the St. Joseph’s brawl not with Sevendust Animosity or a squawk on short-sighted grating flag hooped with haywire lines snorted on Basketball
The marstions of plenilune filigree are 32 Leaves of RINOs of crestfallen dirges of cacophony deafened by Yachted Wedding Crashers’ squall
The swagger of a Vogue Rose kissed by Shadow Dancing ******* is livid in throes
Of a throwaway stretchgrave of Jackson’s crooning on astounding Mike Bossy Bose
Engraved with Islander epiphany that smokestack chockablocks itch every more Leary in gawsy clothes
I rampage through the filibusters of Jerusalem silt sunken by immigrants in tired tattered kilt
That the only famine known to McDonald’s is the demolition of Fireman of young Wayne Enterprises yet rigged to insuperable caverns hitched to the hilt
Soul Kitchen alphabets on Dewey Decimal design swagger yet with a Lugubrious Monkey-Silent Bob’s Feared Spinosity in Sprites of commercial Lemon-Lime
Of a dauntless Decision among many subdued by Prison that the apish caper gouges 20/20 Vision a cacophony dimpled in recessive alleles of a modern prime
That is also primacy antecedent to yoked Cartel SUV’s perfected in acerbic dungeons Monster Mash corners yet death unfurled in matchbox tinder of Futurama slime
Jet Lagged infancy of Nuclear Duff hustling the Illmatic Annoyance of BiffCO ***** riddles Uncle RICO wed boschveldt of Kansas City seen 21-30 with zeal and repine
The Bizarre Inc. of a lovelorn 96’ robbed Liberace into untimely death the spinsters of Key Auditorium Dine
Hemlock sprees of Socratic whimpers of treason of Piraeus marks the infamy of Brutus lagging with conscience diseased
That the marvel of vengeance is the plaudits of swanky New York Times rustling against dead Nevada Subways and Lusitania rollicking seas
Rage itches as Brock is capsized to Hearts of Oceans littered with Sparrow Murders of Ravens Batty with Belief
Mourning the Twister carnage of A Shining City on a Hill printed by Federal Way disclosure by Armada Music without a receipt
To the dozen graves of Monster Mash London Fog the Undeveloped Story of a balcony of Wayne Packer Million Dollar degrees
Challenged to a Final Revolution of a Fantasy terrorizing the Trafficked hand a Coca Cola seizure God spared for “Canceled” Taco Bell automotive brain freeze
Spinsters with vertigo paralyze on the hopscotch kettle of popcorn for amusement racketing squashed Colombia too many lines yet to appease
And too gaping Walls of Chauvin weaning on freckles of Comfortably Numb disease that Love Story castle is the monarchy of allusion to 19-17
Coffins for 24k Carat foresight by the antiquated architects
attacked for 2001 vengeance on Forsberg’s Spleen
Notorious by scores of tourists in aperture for Native American Casinos blankets on Red Scare forests
Apple’s chocolate-box sergeant prescience on brittle Reed Chorus
Sung by the litany of Ima memorialized by punctual Grace of the sashay of Delphinium fountain pens porous.

I sipped from
Your cup Swami
like a hummingbird
perched precariously
on the edge of the universe
and fell head over giddy heels
into whirling starry bliss of that nectar


...***...
I have never been the same
the world calls me a fanatic
and You a figment of my imagination
But I don't care!


I'm Batty for Baba
Gaga for God
Jumping with Joy for Jah!