My sister,
an annoying blister.
In the depth of my relaxation,
she bombards me with such nonsense and retardation.
Like she's designed to disrupt every source of silence,
while I'm diving in the ****** of my imagination.

My sister,
full of spirit and laughter.
Her jolly heart is something I feel obligated to look after.
My sister,
Although having her endless branches of imagination,
says that I'm her inspiration.

what's with this hobby of keeping friends?
i've got two friends that
only say meow...
          and i'm kinda not rooting for
a Colombian hottie for a wife...
                 i abhor this idea of a "loner",
i haven't heard any monks being called that...
  but then again monks do live in a monastery...
why do people always seek each other's
company? what's wrong with liking your own?
it really bothers me... i mean, by current
standards of denoting this man a loner
would make Spinoza laugh...
                  is it because you need to be the quintessential
hermit living in a clay urn or in a hole
in a desert?
                              each night i drink something,
without fail: i feel better for it...
               i'm hoping it'll **** me...
but so many times people who don't known
how to drink get so ******* melodramatic
that i think about ensuring they are banned from
abusing the amber...
                        i hate melodramatic drinkers,
you either utilise the sedative of the amber to
an overcoming potential... short: Kant's
transcendental methodology... you you won't
drink and whine... or bash people about...
and that, i must say: is a rare art.
     1 litre of amber and i'm as silent as a mouse...
i'll say it again:
    there are too many melodramatic whinge-bags
out there... i don't get them...
    i mean i get them: but i abhor them...
                i could really do with a pupil,
nietzsche would do, about time he stopped dropping
those barbiturates and learned to dance!
         tanz! tanz herz im freuer!
yes, sometimes the trip was long
the N86 from romford to goodmayes and
into the brothel near the train station...
but every time i played a folk song,
usually dikanda's ketrin ketrin i'd sit on the bus
for about 40 minutes... aflame...
                i find that prostitutes are only fed the myth
of a tender touch and a complete lack
of experimental perversity... even a kiss is
the beginning of their myth-making...
   ordinary girls are fed the myth of movies,
and how it all works out...
    each time i went to the brothel i sat for the journey
time like a Sufi meditation with the
              dervish dance in my mind...
                 and that's the truth... mind you,
i have a grandfather that supports my work
and buys me cigarettes... then again he lived in a time
when he could age and get a state-pension,
as he does... he's not ailing in any sense, and he lives
in a post-communist country... and i just spent
3 weeks over there... which means my state-sponsorship
in england has amounted: that i could take out
110 quid and give it for a *******...
                and i could remember myself aflame...
  on a bus with a dervish dance in my mind...
           drunk, as usual: but that's the fun part of it...
i could wave my *** at all those
melodramatic drunks you get at parties and in other
public places who suddenly speak and only moan
how unfair it all is...
                      first time i went? well... i did go to
uni after all, the sacred land of getting a good score
for later life... what a sahara when it comes to ***!
   like with prostitutes it still turns out to be a case
of hard facts and harder choices...
                  money...
                        and­ the white historians and who else
in the etc. cul de sac are wondering why our ethnicity is
in decline... it's quiet a thing to be bemused by the freedom
of women and not addressing the point fairly...
                   the women are so free i had to find my own
freedom with a *******...
                         i got bored of too many darwinian examples
being incorporated into the act... once it's the peacock,
next it's the mantis and the black widow...
of sure... there's so much to gain if endorsing some sort
of chivarly, when next door lives a babe with a sugar daddy...
   ***-starved ******* can go elsewhere,
       wild-eyed logic and no manifesto...
literally: there's no hope for a manifesto here...
             there's no manifesto...
                    this is absolutely not a manifesto...
         i'm actually happy that as an ethnicity we're in decline...
  i found talking to other ethnicities a bit restrictive
and boring... i had to censor vocab fluidity with dams
and other ****** architectural constructs...
    so i looked at the shows on television,
a bunch of child-genuises were on...
   i never thought that spelling was like arithmetic...
   but it is... it is, oh hell it is...
  the judge says the word in that odd jumble that a word
is when you have alphabetical distinctions
   in vowel, consonant and syllable form...
    but the languasge is so different, after all
language is not really an optical language as such,
mathematical language is truly anti-phonetic...
and it comes down to the simple example:
      spell the word: onomatopoeia
  start saying the alphabet and it sounds nothing like
this word put together,
   the syllable ono-                
                       then -ma-
                               -to-        and now the tricky bit...
peya...          but what of the grapheme œ?
                you'd really be able to break your tongue
on that syllable suffix...
                       and when the children started spelling
the word: it look as if they were going cross-eyed
   trying to translate the sound into image...
    mathematical language doesn't have that problem,
do the following airthmetic (e.g.)  
   1 + 2 - 5 + 6 - 4 = ?
                                          0...
but that's different when you are told to spell the word
   renaissance -
                                  doubly more difficult if
you are told to create syllables without diacritical mark
distinctions...
               back to drink, like being asked for
a wine connoisseur's palette, when the wine you've been
given has been diluted...
   or in this case fudge packed so there are no
clear distinctions, too much french influence
      and siamese twin graphemes seperated...
excess vowel that i've heard means: kissing...
i'm sorry how the story goes,
i just can't be forced to **** a kenyan penny-picking
                tragedy with my humour...
        i'm bewildered by the arithematic
and the "arithmetic" of putting words together...
                  the internet has quietly become a war
for a freedom to talk... it's more a freedom to think
than talk...
                  and god forgive me feeling so obscure in
what i wanted to think, but given the social structure of
events happening, i had to do a minority report on
it being said, and me not typing this on
a medium of defeat, that i ended up on a warring stance...
i mean, i can understand obscurity per se,
i can't see how i can attach myself to it on a basis
of a phenomenon...
                          so unearthed we are from a structure
that a rebellion against
                  the szlachta was viable...
what the hell grows on concrete? coconuts?!
      i already said: this is hardly a manifesto...
and i truly demand it to be thoroughly agreed to...
                   then comes the shortcoming
barrage of: i knight you the nigh of not worthy...
                        and then the recycling process
bombards you with: many more squint-eyed *****
to come where you did, come from.
       urbanity has forsaken man attached to an organism,
but is feeling it right now,
                 he's attached to an inorganic farbic of testament...
i haven't walked the soil or toiled in it
to feel it's breath between winter or summer..
           i once had so much one-dimensional inclusion
in this world, then my sight was diverted,
and i came across the numbers, who took to being
***** whales and gulped me in one cascade of
the feeding...
              and i was told to walk it alone.
once actors were abhorred by society,
but then there was no office folk to compete for
utility biases when it came to giving gratitude to
pristine plumbing...
                          back when man was highly
economical... and thus actors had to be abhorred...
  to create a tsunami of sadism to keep them
staged... and true enough:
         if christ was crucified in the colliseum
there would have been fewer than none churches to
establish that event... given the colliseum is
made into a subject-trophy cabinet of holiness -
               and how the colliseum did morph...
it's sad talking about being human as excluding humanity,
as it's sad talking being human by including humanity...
               but thankfully (or not)
there's still that case of the arithmetic of the two tongues...
        say the word colliseum
                             co- -lli- -se'um.
      i mean, that means something...
  take to numbers and of the 26, care to call c = 3
               18 + 33 + 24 13 21
                            +                      2 1 2 = 5
                                                    4 3 1 = 8
                            + 58
                                    = 109
    
kabbalah is *******... mysticism was squandered with
gematria... but islam has no alternative either...
sure... if you have to establish a mirror image
of having a care for theological parasites...
   then you turn a into 1, and b into 2 and z in 26...
and then fiddle about until you get a *******'s worth
of bashing about because you couldn't write
a play entitle Macbeth...
               did any of these holy alternatives die
in Auschwitz? most of them living in America didn't
serve in the Israeli army...
                 who wonders whether they died in
Auschwitz?
                 no! they didn't!
       they were bemused by this correlation of
numbers and letters, thankfully we already can read
the opposite of the kabbalistic practices
prostate in the Deutronomy...
           say 10 a thousand times... adds a few more zeros
but leaves the 1 intact...
            please enlighten me as to who wrote the first
koranic recitation if not khadira? please! for the love
of god tell me it wasn't khadira!
         oh wait... given the hispanic um...
it's khadija - the h is silent and the j is actually a hatch...
          a bit like in the west, with y and j trying to
be a grapheme... a load of ******* *******:
and yes: i have to be crude on the matter...
   so we have the first verse written by a woman...
  or was it a bit like saying...
Aisha wrote surah no. 114... i can just picture it...
the young wife said to her ageing husband:
pray with these words, you lecherous *****!
say: say it you ageing carcass!
i seek refuge in the lord of manking,
the sovereign of mankind...
      the god of mankind...
     from the whisper of the retreating whisperer
(gabriel must have left him once the 13th wife arrived,
of god! the symmetry with jesus' disciples!)
     who whispers into the ******* of makind
(evil is in the brackets) -
from among the jinn and mankind.
conscience really can be a ****** to master.
but the geometry of the koran (glutton the q if you want,
makes no impressions on me) -
is that it starts thick... ends up anorexic...
           so much to say at the start,
but then shrinks... it's beautiful in that sense...
given the miracle of muhammad was that he was
illiterate...
  so someone had to write the words for him...
            i'm guessing khadija wrote the best part of it...
i like to think of her writing the first revelations...
    but i also like to muse that aisha wrote the latter
half of the: how do they stress the ******* q k c so much
that it sounds like it's not coming from the mouth
but coming from the nose?! qu-ran... i need
a hanky and snorkel that **** out... qu sneeze! i-ran...
          it's glutton and it's nasal, and it's almost like:
the back of the throat... and then comes the la la la all-hubris
in that song five times a day...
                but seriously... you tell me the man was illiterate
an this book exists... so who wrote it?
   women!
                                         the merchant of mecca in
Finland... left the scandinavian penninsula after one year
and never came back...
                   but how can you have so much
at the beginning and so little at the end?
   a different woman, who was literate (and the man
wasn't) wrote what needed to be said...
    i just look at the surah an-nas as a way to suggest
that the prophet: al suma mal ley *** blah blah
had been asked to repent... repent you paedo!
          that's crude, i know... and i'm drunk,
i'll wake up sober tomorrow and cook a pork curry
and think about leather shoes and shoelaces and belt...
and how camels are dirtier than pigs and how you
can eat almost all of pork offal and when i see a camel
i just think of chewing tobbacco and spitting into
a copper tin... or camel-jockeys...
        or how i think arabs are cursed with oil
and dyslexia and diabetes... how most of them will
end blind or amputee due to their diabetes...
      how a lot of them would like something more
than turkish coffee and baklava, and how
it stops looking cool after a while...
           arab oil, dyslexia and diabetes...
which probably means a palestinian balaclava
at the end of the sequence...
   i'll never know: i'm not planning to have
a stop-over shopping spree in Dubai, any time soon.

sorry clings to a dark heart
take the wrong path, no restart
put it on the line, to have it all
my sorrow ushers in your pleasure
bewildering how you will never know
full circle for the things I've done to you
the dreams that will never fade to obscurity
we knew there was something wrong with me
wanting something that does exist any more
your pain forever heavy in my heart and my mind
every time I think I succeed, it bombards my mind
My absence has to be one of the best things you know
yet I know there is still a small fire inside
but inside it's just ember by this time
but surely the fire will never die

A place where the rivers gentle flow
transforms into the monsters mighty roar
bombards the waterbed below.
Giving rise to the gentle mist,
which masks the brutal churning of the
rivers clear and gushing water.
The waters edge around the nigh but brutal fall,
ripples and trembles,
splashing drops upon the rocks.
Yet, with what malice it may seem,
the water falling,
falls not without elegance and grace.
One glorious summers day,
I did sit upon a nearby stone,
and saw the morning sunlight pierce it.
That morning light, crossed with waters mist,
revealed to me the rainbow of seven.
The seven colours seen,
in the nearby wildflowers,
amidst the nearby trees.
I spend so many idle hours,
sitting by that water pool,
admiring the rainbows,
and the deep churning roar.

I fear failure

A fear so strong it almost stops me in my tracks.

"Don't write that test, you surely won't pass"

Does that make sense? Well let's see.

My high school average was 97.3

I don't slack off, I surely work hard.

Then why is it that self doubt relentlessly bombards?

Negative thought patterns have played in my mind

So long my self confidence is difficult to find.

It has built up walls, making me believe I can't succeed.

But I am armed with my bulldozer, I want to be freed.

I need help
I fear for my health
I'm starting to get that itch
When I'm away from you for to long my eyes twitch
I get sick
I get the shakes
Bad headaches
My sheets often drench from the cold sweats
I experience shortness of breath
I miss the cold steel against my skin
The exhilaration of it penetrating the layers that protect me from you
They resist,eventually giving in
It lets you in
Your fluid gushing through my veins
The adrenaline I get
My heart races
I get lost in the feeling
Nothing else matters
I'd fight matter to have more of you
Your love
I mean it
It warms my heart
Speeds up my thoughts
But slows down my reaction
The sensation bombards my chest
I try to slow my breathing
But my heart wants out of its prison
It's bones usually thicken
But It's cage weakened
By the drug that has me hooked
Name your price
If I don't have enough
Expect me on tv
Negotiating these hostages for the biggest heist you've ever seen
I think I'm going crazy  
I think I have a serious problem
I admit I'm an addict
I wish someone would admit me
I need rehab

With our own hands
Destiny is sculpted
The passion of youth
Molding a masterpiece

Time is unyeilding
Chipping away the details
The marble soaks in the pain
Cracks trickle chaotically
Death bombards innocence
Worn and weathered

Building dreams of clay
The beauty in life fades
Some find solice in destruction

It’s not singly your jubilantly playful smile
Or eyes that instill faith,
Faith that miracles exist in us
And absolutely not independently
The miraculousness that ever so gently
And tenderly
Sleeps on top of a face to which
No being can compare to, it makes such
Euphoric feelings kiss the world
And my heart, now zapped
By a current of life and flare
This miraculousness fabricates an image of
Your benevolent wind, light and sublime
Rolling softly over the waves and hands
Of the ocean, flowy and ecstatic
And the cause of my enamored state
Is not isolated by
The effervescently sanguine blush
Of your adorable cheeks,
Which regularly has exploded
A nervous, yet amazed smile
Upon myself
No,
Although with the fullest probity
I may spew that these angelic virtues
Have spirited me to a place
Where Zeal is my name
And time with you
Has become my heroine,
It’s your energy, your aura
Your vivacious fire
That so happily bombards me
With laughter and excitement
It’s your poison, your wonderful stain
That’s colored my life
And shocked my heart
It’s you;
You are a poem

Is there a way to eliminate all Fear?
Can we be Happy and live with Cheer?
Can we stop Worrying and living with Stress?
Can we eliminate Anxiety that makes our life, a Mess?
Let’s discover the secret to Peace and Happiness!

Is your life filled with Depression?
Do you want to make your life a Celebration?
The culprit, the enemy, is your own Mind
It’s robbing your Peace and Bliss, you will Find!
Let’s discover the secret to Peace and Happiness!

All our miseries are rooted in Thought
When in toxic Thought, We are Caught
Then, we are filled with Rotten Thoughts that are Junk
We lose our Peace, can’t live like a Monk
Let’s discover the secret to Peace and Happiness!

We all suffer this Triple Suffering on Earth!
These miseries are for all those who take Birth
But there is a way out of this Mess
We can eliminate Fear, Anxiety and Stress
Let’s discover the secret to Peace and Happiness!


To find Peace, Let’s get to the bottom of the Root
To be Blissful, we must Realize the Truth
The Mind is a crook, it acts like the King
But in fact, it causes all Suffering
Let’s discover the secret of Peace and Happiness!

Not one or two, it’s fifty thoughts, a Minute
The Mind bombards us and we are Lost in it
Then it becomes our boss, rides our Life Horse
We are controlled by it, this is a big Loss
Let’s discover the secret to Peace and Happiness!


The first secret is simple, move from NEP to PEP!
From Negative to Positive, Take this First Step
Then, we must move from Mind to Consciousness
And live a Life of Peace and Happiness
Let’s discover the secret to Peace and Happiness!


How do you do it? Try to find the Mind
Where is the Mind, You cannot Find!
Still, this Rascal makes us Blind
Let us discover the Truth, leave the Mind
Behind Let’s discover the secret to Peace and Happiness!

What is the way to **** the Mind?
It is simple, we must still the Mind
The Mind with the Ego, becomes the ME
Then from Misery, we are not Free
Let’s discover the secret to Peace and Happiness!


The ME creates Anger, Revenge and Hate
There is Jealousy and Anguish at our Life’s Gate
Together, the Mind and Ego, ME, make us Cry
We then look at the sky and ask, ‘Why?’
Let’s discover the secret to Peace and Happiness!

Those who Realize that Life is just a Drama
That everything is Karma, for them, there is no Trauma
They realize that Suffering is nothing but a Choice
They choose to be Happy, they choose to be Wise
Let’s discover the secret to Peace and Happiness!

The fact is, we are not the Body, Ego or Mind
We are the Soul, this Truth we must Find
The Soul never suffers, it radiates Peace
In Consciousness, there is no Sorrow, Miseries Cease
Let’s discover the secret to Peace and Happiness!

Those who think that Success is Happiness
They run behind Pleasure, live with Anxiety and Stress
They don’t realize that the Foundation is Peace
Where there is no Peace, our Sorrow will Increase
Let’s discover the secret to Peace and Happiness!

The Secret teaches us to go beyond Entertainment
It gives us Ultimate Bliss with Enlightenment
When we Realize, we are the Divine Soul
In Eternal Bliss, we achieve our Goal
Let’s discover the secret to Peace and Happiness!


The journey starts with Illumination
Then there is Purification and Realization
From Misery, there is Liberation
In Bliss, there is Divine Unification
Let’s discover the secret to Peace and Happiness!

There is a way to be Happy, all day
We can eliminate Misery, take Sorrow away
Though the skies are Cloudy and Grey
We can be Happy, whatever comes our way
Let’s discover the secret to Peace and Happiness!

So, let’s start and remove all the Junk
Tame the Monkey Mind, make it a Monk!
Let’s make the resolve to Suffer No More
Push the Mind out and Lock the Door
Let’s discover the secret to Peace and Happiness!

What is the way to Eternal Bliss?
It is living in Truth Consciousness
When we overcome the myth and Realize the Truth
Then Peace and Bliss will fill our Root
Let’s discover the secret to Peace and Happiness!

There is no need to live with Fear and Stress
Remove Anxiety and Worry that is causing the Mess
Live in Consciousness, live in Peace
When there is no Mind, Miseries Cease
Let’s discover the secret to Peace and Happiness!

Crippling self doubt
plagues my existence.
Injecting itself into my blood stream;
immobilizing my muscles
numbing my tongue
and muting my voice box.

It quenches its thirst
by tearing my self image
limb from limb and
ploughing my insides
till there is nothing left.

It either bombards like
gunfire inside my head
firing flaws into questions
or drain each cell's confidence
leaving the muscles to shiver and shudder
and words hesitant to leave my tongue.

My flesh that houses doubt
is familiar with every capillary of my insecurity;
Whispering my shortcomings
and scrutinizing the details that make me, me.

It is a constant fight, invisible to the eyes.
Internal;
it's all in my head.

The sky darkens as clouds tumble in,
dusk at mid-day.
Cold water falls, and bombards the earth,
leaving dimples in the hard dry soil.
The clouds boil as they pain your face.
Your tears are hidden but not forgotten,
masked. Just as your eyes grow dark,
black tears drips downward, leaving
a sinuous streak across your cheek.
The water envelops you, caresses you,
but you resist its baptism.


-AM

energy crystals surround her desk
drinking chai tea
and reading a book about opening chakras
her history is filled with articles about spirituality
being more connected to the earth than ever before
she’s tough and I’m aang
she’s teaching me how to disconnect
to reconnect to what actually matters
she bombards me with articles and essays
I read them all
learning more and more each second
she reads my birth chart
now she knows more about me than I know myself
sun is in 17 degrees virgo
losing sight of larger issues
I’ve sworn perfectionism
cautious by nature
Venus is in 02 degrees Leo
love is a combination of pride and respect
remaining loyal to those whom I am attached to
taking it quite serious
friendship is highly sought
such reading explained me better than I ever could
energy crystals hang from her necklace
drinking chai tea
and reading a book to me about herbal healing
we’re walking barefoot along a creek
I’ve never felt so connected
but it all makes sense

Prickly fir tree
The smell of salt taunts me,
The air is still
And I am stuck.

My wet hair sticks,
Resin pearls on my back.
Prickly fir tree
I wish I could peel

Off the pain
And the heat
That stick to my gut
On this stiff summer night.

Ghastly faces regard me,
Distorted and sweaty;
Levonorgestrel
Bombards my ovaries.

The air is still.

I am heavy
as a hippo, and real.
I was orange and purple
and now I am stale.

Fleshy red eels
Squish me to mush.
My insides are mouldy –
I suffocate, I rust.

The air is still
And I am stuck.

I cannot ****, I cannot ****
This empty shrine
Of flesh, of flesh.
I’m no Ophelia

And death isn’t pretty.
The smell of decay haunts me,
The smell of salt taunts me.
Intoxicating thoughts

Of binaries and wars:
To ****, to create –
My enemy, my love;
Controlled clarity or deadly insanity?

I cannot ****, I cannot ****:

An extension of me
Or a monster in herself.
Fascinating and deadly,
I am golden and immortal.

Tonight
A storm  whips at the window
With impressive force.
The rain like liquid bullets
bombards the fragile glass.
I keep expecting it to shatter,
But it just shudders
And creaks.  

I put my cheek to the cool,
smooth, surface
And strain my
Ear to catch every oscillating
sound wave that passes through
The barrier of fired carbon and silica.

That's when I hear it.
A low voice with emerald eyes
And a silver smile.

And I-
I remember
What it is like to be known
Completely without fear.
I remember my soul
And why I gave it so freely.

"I would give it again"
I whipser,
As thunder rolls through the empty
Space in the core of my being.

My mind
Evilly
Bombards me
With thoughts
Doubts and fears
Whispering to me
Asking if I'm sure
About his love for me
Am I sure he's been faithful and true
Does he want out on this
My heart just squeaks out
Its worry
For it'd surely be destroyed
If he left me
Stopped loving me
Gave up and left
I don't know
What to do
My mind
And my heart
Are missing you
So much
That they worry
And my body
It's just antsy
Because it misses your touch
Everything will be better
Once I see those eyes of yours
For there lies all the answers I need.

my mind will finally be hollow when explosive entities of its existential warfare finally self destruct.
until then,
Recondite rifles are ruthlessly reloaded with unanswerable questions regarding the purpose of seemingly non purposeful things;
lack of resolve wrecks me.
Unanswered ammunition degrades cerebral cells, intercepting normal neural connections:
I cannot think properly in the midst of pellets of panic

until then,
Selfless soldiers employed by future uncertainty battle against selfish soldiers of MY physical being, employed by my diminishing desire for sanity.
They engage in trench warfare: digging desolate ditches, hammering holes, all of which eventually collapse and contribute to the constant compression of my cortex.
But Compliments and Hope fracture into particles of sand that are ****** into the openings in my pupils by amorphous wind which is structureless anyway
these particles are vacuumed down my optic nerves and pile into pillars of petrifying plant-based picket fences that try to guard against the existential warfare plaguing my mind
But more explosive entities enter through my ears and reproduce in my temples waiting to self destruct

until then,
Forces convolute: existential warfare compresses my cortex into inevitable flat nothingness, while pitiful pillars of disillusioning dust collapse because the wind that whisked them inside NEVER EXISTED ANYWAY
Eventually i will implode

Until then,
numbness gnaws at my heart to balance the bullets
waiting to implode
until then,
Existential Warfare bombards my brain with bullets of black metal

I've relied on my words for my sanity
But the pixels are unforgiving and calculated
My bones can not express myself clearly
They creak and moan with years of hatred

This distance is only sustained
With airwaves and power lines
Late nights with mono dialogues
My ears cave in and create mines

I have changed and we both know it
The seasons exclaim that knowledge
Our seperation bombards my happiness
Further driving in that wedge

Every other time we could make it work
Our hearts interlinked in lines like these
If we could make what we have out of nothing
Then we WILL bring any obstacle to it's knees

We both have been through our own wars
And we can still smile, laugh, sing
So just survive the onslaught with me
And we will conquer everything

His existence lies somewhere between the gods I could never believe in and the cold side of the bed
A misshapen figure remains dipped where he once laid
An ode to love
An ode forgotten from when we talked last
My heart no longer yearns for his love
My body no longer yearns for his touch
But on lonely nights like these
When 5 am calls with the birds echoing
and exhaustion bombards my being
Like a hollowed out skeleton
Bones ever quaking
I roll to the cold side of the bed
and yearn for his warmth

You asked for spring and I gave it to you
I grew leaves bright in my hair
And paled my skin to soft morning sky blue
And lavished the world with words of a new leaf
With earth under my nails and honeydew sprouting from my throat
You said “I love you, don’t ever change”
But seasons come and go
And I grew too hot for you
I rose up like redwood and reached deeper into parched soil
My skin browned and sweat dripped down my back
Only to be coated with dust
I spat forest fires and blazed brighter than what you dared to look at
And I was too great for you
I grew too much
I was no longer a sprout of sweet baby’s breath
Shy and fairy-tale whimsy
I am now capricious like the drought and following flood and the
rolling thunder that bombards the earth,
that refuses to be silenced, roaring, flashing passion that leaves scars

I am the summer, and you say “You’ve changed”
I am the summer, and I say “I have.”

I'm not surprised anymore by
the extraordinary.
When life bombards
me with trivialities, and
ordinary events,
something always happens to
jolt me from my lethargy.

"Bukowski **** on
the training pads!"
My brother yells, from
the dining room.
I'm living with my
brother, and
we have two
black kittens, Mojo and
Bukowski.
They bring me
hours of smiles.
I've never seen
eyes so full of
trust and adoration.

Bukowski has an
aversion to the litterbox.
We have tried everything.
When I put him in,
he jumps out like it's
a muddy pond.

His brother Mojo adores
the litter box.
Not only does he do
his business, he also
plays and sleeps there on
occasion.
We've started with
the training pads and
newspapers.
It's working.
Amidst all the destruction,
hate, and chaos in the
world, I'm eaten up by
the magic of the ordinary.

I talk to them as
they doze in the
afternoon sun.
"Thank you boys,
you got me going again,
Mojo, you broke the
dry spell."
They blink, and
Bukowski licks his
brother's head.

Sometimes I wonder...
Just another mass
a chill run up my neck
emptiness bombards me
a ghost
They look right through me
no purpose.  

No one
No one to wish me goodnight,
no one to wake me up.
No one to throw myself on when all fails

But I stay, hoping one day
I fall so deeply
Not even a gunshot would hurt -
the gaze we hold in each other's eyes will numb all but love.

Satisfaction from a scent
the feeling of his hand on my hip -
as he brings it up my back,
Embrace
Making way up to my neck
grazing fingers against lips
Feel the warmth of his own pressed against mine

You’re surrounded by people
But all of a sudden you feel alone
You feel exposed
Feels like you’re nothing but skin and bone

You try to escape
But you’re trapped and you cant leave no more
Try to break the chains
But they’re stuck on you
And you Cant breathe no more

Try to take a deep breath
But it’s short and abrupt and almost dead
You try to complain
But they say that it’s just all in your head

Try to cry out
But my voice breaks halfway through the scream
I try to move
But im paralyzed it’s like im in a dream

I try to break down
But it’s hard and i cant seem to cry
I know you cant relate
But for gods sake you dont even try

I try to be cool
to smile for the cameras around me now
But the flashing light is blinding
Try to capture a smile but idon’t know how

I try to stay strong
But i feel like the load is just too great
I try to man up
But i just cant bear the heavy weight

I try to be happy
But it feels like everything makes no sense
“ lighten up” “ be grateful”
oh come on LAWM, “ stop being so tense “

I try to love myself
I try so hard to smile at the girl in the mirror
But i steam up the place
Let the fog stop it from getting any clearer

I try to be positive
Try to make the sky clear inside my head
But i cant bring myself to
And reality hits me before i go to bed

I try to stay present
The past just chases after me
Cant cut to the chase
It captures me and drowns me in misery

Try not to regret
Any decision ive made so far
That Ive let myself down
No longer do i shoot for the stars

I try to focus
But all i seem to be doing is getting more angry
At myself and the world
I just sit and stare at my books so blankly

I try to be a good friend
But all i seem to do is focus on my sorrow
Try to be there for her
But what she doesnt know is id give her my strength to borrow

Try to give her my world
Id give her my heart my body my soul
But all i can do
Is selfishly act as dry as coal

I try to be a good daughter
But all i do is make them pay some more
Like i own Their bank accounts
Until they empty to the core

I try to love
But love just seems to break my heart
I trust it give it my all
But it Pushes me around, and tears me apart

I try to help others
But i just cant seem to help myself
I bury myself in my pessimism
And stack up all my  problems in a shelf

I try to remember
Who i once was long ago
But the seeds i once had
i have no more water for them to sow

I try to be me
The person i once was one day
The bravery and confidence
But the love i had for myself’s faded away

I try to go back
To fitting in all the things i once wore
Bigger arms hips, stomach and *******
I grab and beat up until im sore

I try to calm down
But the anger it just wont go away
I try to leave this place
Try to get myself out of here everyday

I try to move on
But moving on is easier said than done
I try to forget
But it all burns me like the heat of the sun

I try to stay still
But i shift and fidget and stumble then fall
I try not to tremble
Fearing that i wont stand up at all

I try to get up
But the weight it just holds me down
I want to be the queen of my heart
But Failure never really came with a crown

I try to Hope
I try to find Him when Im lost
But I pushed Him away
And i know that pushing him away comes at a cost

I try to stay alive
But the thought of death bombards my brain
Try to focus on the good
But when i do, i remember the pain

Tears overflow
Pressure below threatens to blow
Yet in the eve are they only known
Under cloak of a hopeful fool
I give and give my heart
And yet I don’t receive
What I desire most
But of course it’s me
No one knows my disease of heart and soul
What plagues, my demons,
My existence
Is only me
No one knows
No friend, family, foe, or creature knows my battle
Life exudes from my eyes
But this world bombards with endless grief
A continuous sway between life and death
Haunts me, pushes me,
Paralyzes me, wastes me
‘Til my last breath

I stand sleeping
crushed in the softness of my bed,
dark, bottomless, heavy.
i stand sleeping
My tube lubed
my head pounded, active, silent.
I lie sleeping awake, lost nigh and day.
No end no beginning,
I stand dreaming.
Excuses are worth living
Without them what would we live for?
Sighs and gasps of air
show how scared of life we can be
both as love and enemy
Dog tired, what the **** does that mean?
licked lapped loved into sickness
Why do I do this?
I stand sleeping, dreaming, silent, motionless, scared.
The roar, clanking, rhythm of metal
cold, remorseless,
bombards my haze
awakens me, oxidizes me,
A reaction unstoppable
til balance reached
and night and day become one.
one life, one soul, one mind.
Silence of a life unsound.
I stand.

Stargazer fish, of tactile scope,
a firm apparatus of sullen sail taking on watercrest
and nests in song,
in rivaling storyboards hoping children read along
of the pirate’s appendage - the moonlight, the claim rights
and every night cries for a villainess
to war the heart,
bombards and the plunder,
scuttling poetry under foamy humpback water
melted from night sky,
arriving in tides named for our stride

Where might one stand with themself?
I am not confused.
I just am not sure how to navigate.
Many might say I am anilitical and cold
But to be so should help me now and forever.
Yet I am still trying to evaluate.

I've made one discovery so far:
My life moto: "If I've contemplated something for so long, I may as well commit the contemplated action," is not a good life moto.
This encouranges a fault:
I commit actions I know won't have clean consequences because I've contemplated the actions for a while, yet have not contemplated their results.

Now, I must start fresh and withold from actions and think more.
Yet, I have more fun when life is messy.
Life is generally stress free for me,
Except when I have to live with the consequences of messy actions.
But acting without overthinking makes people LIKE you.
It makes you seem less anilitical and cold
More casual and fun
And acting without overthinking makes people DISLIKE you.
Makes you do and say stupid actions and words
Make you seem too accesible
People want what they can't have,
Not what bombards them with weird thoughts all day long.

So my plan is to start by honing common sense and self control.

Life is just about this moment, are you living it?
Or has life escaped you, bit by bit
Life is just about the 'now,' make the best of it
Celebrate every moment of life, don't just simply sit

Life is not about yesterday, yesterday is gone
Life is not about tomorrow, it is not yet born
Life is about this moment, life is about 'now'
I'll be Happy every moment, take this solemn vow

Life has a purpose, we don't realize that it’s a big treasure
Life is not just meant to be chasing every pleasure
Every moment of life is given to realize this
Moment by moment, we lose life chasing Happiness

Life is not a long journey that starts at birth
Life is not all about the years that we live on earth
Life is not the many years that we live till we die
Life is blissful now, sing like a bird in the sky

Most of us are missing life, waiting for it to pass
We don't know how to truly live, did we miss this class?
Life is not a long journey that will go on and on
Life is about 'now', tomorrow it may be gone

Many of us fill our life with fear, worry, and stress
We don't know how to live life with Peace and Happiness
Those who learn to live life, living in today
They smile, laugh, and love, no matter what comes their way

There is only one way to live, it is living in the 'now'
Not facing all our problems, with sweat on our brow
We must do our best with life, with the given plough
And then, surrender to what will be, this we must allow

For what can man do, other than doing his very best
Once he does that, to the Divine, he surrenders the rest
He learns to live each moment, with faith, trust and hope
And so, with life's battles, he is able to cope

Those who lose the treasure of life filling their mind with junk
Those who don't tame their monkey mind and make it into a monk
They live their life jumping from a thought to another thought
Life was just about 'now', this truth they forgot

The enemy, the thief, the rascal, is our very own mind
It bombards us with thoughts and steals our life, we find
Moment by moment, we lose life as we desire and we crave
It is our mind, that makes us cry, right until our grave

Instead of accepting whatever happens, living with a smile
We cry, we scream, and we question, unhappy all the while
We don't realize that what is unfolding in life every day
It's a reaction of our own actions, the price we must pay

Life has a purpose, we must realize this before we die
Life is not just about wandering on earth and in the sky
Before we die, we must achieve our life goal
To realize we are not body and mind, we are the Divine Soul

If we let the moments of life pass one by one
Though we achieve trophies, the victories that we won
Before we realize our treasure of life will be gone
We will suffer on earth and then, we will be reborn

We must live every moment Conscious of the Truth
We must invest every minute getting to the root
Moment by moment, we must live, in Consciousness
Realizing the Truth, and with it, getting eternal Happiness

The sun will rise, and the sun will set, soon life will pass by
Moment by moment, day by day, we will laugh and cry
But how can we live without Sorrow, with Peace and Happiness
It's by living moment by moment, we must learn this

If moment by moment, we let our life simply pass
When we wake up, it may be late, we will cry, Alas!
The gift of moments was given to us, for us it was to use
But we lost moment by moment, this why did we choose?

It's not too late, we can wake up, and start living 'now'
We can find the purpose of life and stop grazing like a cow
We are still alive, and our moments are yet in our hand
We can live life, not let it slip away, just like grains of sand

Death is certain, we can't escape it, every 'body' must die
There is no use to look up at the sky, to cry and ask 'why?'
The only way to live life moment by moment with Joy
Is to be Conscious of the secret – Who is this 'I'

And soon, life will be over, this gift will be gone
Swinging like a pendulum, into the future not yet born
Life will escape us as we suffer and we cry
Let us transform our life, wake up to a new dawn

Let us become Conscious in every moment we live
Nothing belongs to us, let us learn to give
Let us spend each moment, achieving the ultimate goal
We are not this body and mind, we are the Divine Soul

Life is not a journey that lasts many years
Life is not just about a few smiles and many many tears
Life is only about this moment, and we must live it
Otherwise, the moments will escape and so will life with it

holding a tragedy lie between
nervous hands glancing as
my eastern sun bombards
this sierra western *****
plummeting veins solar
caging my fragile wrap
boiling my lungs while I
cradle a tragedy lie.

a fog descends, encroaching the mind
wisps lost into the haze: minimal visibility ensured
a strength without direction, meandering through forest
ice encrusts logic; hail bombards reason
i am left

solely with agony
bliss ignorance into incompetence
sheeps alone in a storm
awaiting some dog to provide direction
i ponder: why wait for consensus
if no-one cares to agree and ascend