stop!!! i cant take it ... why lie??
im dead now ..believe me??
you killed me
dont act to surprised!!
wheres your mistress when u need her..
burry me under the ground
its a pitty ..she aint around
its a pitty ur behind bars ..while im with the creator
..its a pitty !!!

I'm having a pitty party
with an exclusive guest list.

Me is bringing the heartbreak,
the ******* that she can't let go of from her past...

Myself is hosting with alcoholic beverages that I is going to ignore in attempt to do the right thing.

It should be...
Interesting.

Y can feel the cold wind
the moon is high , the lion inside
crawls , the helmet stop the metamorfosis
mi tooths are sharp my roar is crawling to
my throat .

in the night , think in licans , mi hearts is with them
mis claws are poping out , the lion is out ,
and y feel pity for the little creep .

mi head is booming and i can't stop , the roar
is stock in my throat , it comes out , is not a howl ,
is not a cry , is the lion in my guts asking for a way out ,
his claws , are my claws his teeths are mine ,

y think in the beauty , and her beasty **** eyes ,
a roar comes out , the bikes speed up , thinking in
gonzo  ,  running his bike ,  touring his lican ,
avoiding the **** , a claim for mercy for the
mortal , while the beast crawls for the skin .

suddenly the beast is out , everything around you sounds
different, night is yours , the claws are out ,
feeling pity and a rush , loews night , the effect is cool .
you keep speeding up , you feel the rage , making your roar ,
put fith , 120 km. are enough , hopefully .


you speed up , the bike don't go faster , the rage is booming
the eco in your head , claims for the blood of fresh **** .
the full moon talks your language the city is your hunting ground ,
thinking in lestat ,  hearing bach under a howling moon  , the claws get to your gloves popping out, full moon again son , carefull says lestat voice .



but the full moon talks your language  ,  she talks to your lion ,
she says in his ears , feed lion feed , take your paws , use the fangs
the city is your hunting ground , the lion is out your eyes are red
the beast took your heart , think in dogs , licans are lucky they have their clans , youre alone  ,  the city is ******* yours to take , the lion's walks alone .


think in nat geo , hoping they show some fresh **** ,
hoping for a lions feast , eating , with ****** faces , and a full
mouth , thinking in
mi lyonnesse . feeling ***** , the beast is out ,
cant stop , looking people like prays , in your hunting
ground ... every one is a pray  , looking for a child molester ,
for an assassin , there's no crime in killing creeps , the lion
makes excuses , for the **** , moon is up , you wait for a while
then speed up , and again thinking in the little creep . you scream impotent , it was your right , little beasty knows , he was lucky  , now they know how lucky they ***** , claws come back in . your  lucky to be live .

the moon is gone the lion is in , waiting to crawl back out , thinking in the running , in the heart of a creep , the feast of eating his creepy little heart , gas is enough , y will make it to the  cave , thinking in beautiful
lionesses , naked lionesses , their skin their softness , thinking in the
beauty that loves you but is too scared to face the music in her chicken **** heart , good tastes  too many wrongs , she  cant handle it .



the lion crawl back in ,  the helmet deed his job and protect mi head ,
the blood taste in my mouth , feels good , the fang is always out , like
a remainder ,  a message to your face , be cool , the bike brakes in the red light , you look the little creep , crawling to you , you see his dog out , he smells you , the roar scares him , his creepy yellow eyes , but he knows better .


the hummingbird of the morning sings , talking to the sun , mi eyes are hurting me . the night was good no one died , only the lion ,  rest in peace , very deep inside my chest .
the blood moon wakes you up , think in the coliseum ,the  loews feasts
the killings , the blood , the roman ladies , in the streets no one , looks at you , beneath the monet sykes , everyone , walks with the certainty , for their  own certainties , the blood moon wakes every cell in my body the lion claims for a way out , y only see prays , in a ****** red moon .
    


the house is quiet , my teeths are in , y bite my lips ,
take the shorts  up for a run  , throwing all the rage , in the ****** moon the creeps knows better ,  but still , thinking in the cowardness of being inside , having a creep , inside a ****** closet with 80 years old , pitty is an excuse , he knows better deep in his creepy little heart knowing he was ,  only a lucky little rat .


the feast in natgeo , is cool thinking in the creepy enemy , getting eaten alive by hyenas , eaten to the bone , screaming for mercy , thats  happy
or wishful thinking , oh the beast is there ,  yet , deep down you know that is there , waiting  , looking the prays , but that is the secret , that everyone have  it , only few knows it , and control it , as y do
screaming and roaring beneath the ****** moon .



now i'm calm waiting for a day sleep , having the certainty that my beast is controlled , and the blood feast , are just my wishful thinking .
in the nigth ride , think in blake , tiger tiger in the night .
why your eyes shine so bright , that's my line , your eyes shine , the night is your day , the creep is everywhere , here i am  scream some creep defender , thanks the lord , for your life , and dont scream at me defending that crap . the lion talks to people , don't defend **** ,
luckily i'm used to hold on and hold back , in the ****** night , someone says here we are ,  y say , so what , nothing works for you ,
, whats the point , of being there , illogical and creepy , think again your lucky to be alive . y hear knives out by radiohead and  y think in destroy that creepy evil little rat , that almost destroy mi life , and y say to the rat your ******* lucky to be alive .

       c'est tout, je adore.

further more, further more upon that twisted path
a labyrinth of minds emotions
trying to re
live
                               the past.
chunks of time taken from inside
memories fasding fast--
in the shadows you try to hide
but the present is where one cannot find;
hidden in what is lost.

Lost lovers, love lives
hiding under covers,
where one should never estimate over
the bridge that builds trust and ships.
Ships that sail across the sand,
so dry and desolate.
Here you take what is not yours,
and embrace the
starving
                 quiet.

Practicing in the dark,
the curtains have all burned.
A star shoots across the carpet,
and falls
on
   to
      the
floor.

Desperate faces, lost in the maze,
and nothing is ever going to change
unless you take
that first
step
and then accept
what it is
that they call
                           death.

She always burned her
Barbie dolls after she cut
All the hair of that plastic,
Magic perfect blonde ****

She was 11 and had just
Always hated how all
Her family and friends kept
On giving her a doll

That was perfect and had all
And she just couldn't see
The relevance and the elephant
In the room is insecurity

So at 11 she Cant see what she is
but what she is not
her imperfections made her check
If Barbies got what she got

But Barbie did not barbies
perky with both ***** and ****
Her legs don't grow hair
And she don't need cover up

And her short legs look
Nothing like barbies do
Even her *** and
Thighs are all proportioned too

Fit her spectacular body's frame
that frames her reflexion
with the blame to detain
what remained as complexion

Of her oily pimpled skin that
Is too fair and needs a tan
And living up to all that not to
Mention a corvette and a man

That's why Barbie hangs across
Her closet where her mom
Saw the Barbie dolls She hung
by the neck yelling what's wrong

butShe just masks how she
felt so a head doctor was
a psychiatrist who sighed
A bit but had sided with her cause

She was an ugly duckling herself
That Never grew to be pretty
But the city has no pitty for no
Pretty so best you be witty

And told her to keep with the
hate she now held for Barbie
and before She left the doctor said
**** a corvette get a Ferrari

So She left happy but hardly
Cured of her obsession
Over beauty and style,
With a classy shoe collection

But she is now only 11
And reassures herself that she
Is no barbie and would repeat
barbies not prettier than me, and

Til she believes it she still burns them
To hang them soar
Shows a mirror to the bald barbie so
She knows she's not pretty no more

See what its like to feel too short
as She cuts at the knee
She says" i can be more
like Barbie if she's more like me"

Wheres obese Barbie,
or Immigrant Barbie from far
Black haired or short haired Barbie
Who's bus pass is her car

How about welfare Barbie or
realistic Barbie anything but
A smooth long haired long legged
Perfect shaped ***** and ****

With Friggin hips child birth was
Not made for and why
She asks Can't barbie have flaws so
I can pause the feeling that I

Will fail before I try if I
Am expected to be
So beautiful and Barbie never talks
No wonder kens easy to please

the message seems look pretty and
Dont talks all u need
So she hangs them violently
but quietly wishing they would bleed

But as she gets older shell
Like herself more and won't dwell
That god didn't make her a Barbie
maybe hes not as good as matel.

I am Shashank Dwivedi
I am always ready
My work is to study
I love my mom and daddy

Saurav Ganguly is my favourite cricketer
I like Sehwag's high crackers
I like making friends
Because friendship is a relation that never ends

Writing poems is my hobby
I enjoy sitting alone in my lobby
I promote Hindu-Muslim unity
Wars for religion is very pitty

I have interest in History
I like reading moral Stories
I also have interest in General knowledge
I want to learn Life at every edge

I was foretold, your rebell ***,
  Nor love, nor pitty knew;
And with what scorn you use to vex
  Poor hearts that humbly sue;
Yet I believ’d, to crown our pain,
  Could we the fortress win,
The happy Lover sure should gain
  A Paradise within:
I thought Loves plagues, like Dragons sate,
Only to fright us at the gate.

But I did enter, and enjoy
  What happy Lovers prove;
For I could kiss, and sport, and toy,
  And taste those sweets of love;
Which had they but a lasting state,
  Or if in Celia’s brest
The force of love might not abate,
  Jove were too mean a guest.
But now her breach of faith, farre more
Afflicts, than did her scorn before.

Hard fate! to have been once possest,
  As victor, of a heart
Atchiev’d with labour, and unrest,
  And then forc’d to depart.
If the stout Foe will not resigne
  When I besiege a Town,
I lose, but what was never mine;
  But he that is cast down
From enjoy’d beauty, feels a woe,
Only deposed Kings can know.

it has been over two years and i am proud of my growth. my main focus this year is to finish my grieving so that i may continue my life in an efficient manner.
the process of grieving is commonly known as, but not limited to:

denial
anger
bargaining
depression
acceptance

my denial proces:
many times the easiest way to get over trauma is to repress it. i was 15 when i was ra ped. legal age of consent is 16. he was 18. i was naive, and could not imagine the man i loved doing that to me. i believed that it was an accident and neither of us knew what was right or wrong. I had assumed that because i had previously given him my body, he was able to ignore my pleads to stop this time. i blamed myself more than i blamed him, and he blamed me. i had been so infatuated with him that i had pushed away the people who cared most about me. when i told them about being ***** our bond was already so far gone that they could not feel anything more than pitty. i was terrified of losing him, so i convinced us both it was an accident. ra pe is no accident.

through denial became anger:
i became genuinely angry for the first time in my life. i was angry at him for being somebody that i had trusted and loved. angry that i had let this happen to myself. angry that i had no strength nor respect to stand up for myself. if i had told him to stop one more time he would have. i understand now that i should not have had to say no more than once. i was angry because i let myself down, but I’m more angry that i could not blame him. being angry was the easiest part of grieving. it is okay to he angry.

bargaining is a toxic healing method:
i became really good at bargaining with myself. after he was gone i had begun to understand my emotions, but i could not control them. my fear of more being taken from me fed my overcompensation. i began to give my body away, so that it could not be taken. it was an unhealthy coping mechanism. my body is not meant to be given nor taken.

depression hit hard:
i began to reflect on all of the points in my life that had lead me to this one. i became close to restarting the grieving process. i spent a long portion of the depression stage in denial. then i was angry that i had backtracked to the beginning. i had more meaningless se x that i now regret more than anything. i saw how good his life had been going and how poorly mine was. it was obvious that i needed help.

acceptance:
this entire passage was my process to acceptance. i reached out to my therapist. i made new friends. i stopped wallowing in self pity and i began to recover. i stopped begging to forget my flaws and began to forgive them.

I'm just trying not to feel the need
to ***** myself.

Over & Out
Of the
Poor White Trash Society
class-classy.

I am very much so.
Not my fault.
You think Imma
*****-worth-less
than you.

That's the
Price of being Pretty.

Some "people" are just praying .

That you will play pretend *******
with them,
for the right price.
Of course,
money is alway$ the motive.

So he'll
Flash dat Ca$h
& Dem bling-bling-ring$.

Prayin' he can afford to
Pay, people to pitty play up
on him.

But I don't play or put out.
Anymore.

I am not a *******.
$ can't win me over.

You can find someone else
to drink with
or
experiment with.
Whatever you call it.

I'm just going to coast
it riding as the

6th wheel.

Till hell freezes over.
Then can I,
crash,
burn,
& fall
all the way down
the

6th route

till I hit
the

6th exit.

That will
Bring
me
Back into your arms, again.

Tired of the torment and distruction,
Countless sleepless nights, filled with worry and dred. Home is your shelter where one goes to find refuge,
Shouldn't it be?
Tip toe from room to room,
Finding solitude amongst isolation.
Try to build a safe haven.
******* for tearing it down, trying to break down these walls that took me my life to build.
You,
You're nothing, worthless, I almost pitty you but that would mean you're worthy of my thoughts.
Hate you? I don't.
Despise you? I don't.
You hold nothing over me, apart from the one I fear for.
How dear you break her and tear her down,
You will never amount to be even half of who she is.
Justice will be served on a silver platter,
You won't see it coming,
I hope then you'll live in fear.
And I'll be able to sleep through the night.

i can't imagine a better maxim for a marriage:

   when both of you are young...
and... instead of being
these "star-crossed lovers" -

with a rubric
                  of the thwart(ing)...

to marry: when both are still in love with life...

                    from a nation-state into
the ***** of a diaspora...

what a fine word...
   the mass-influx of hyping around
the otherwise, fake:

       migrant workers...
like the current argument for
british sovereignty:
we will not have any of the bureaucracy
from Brussels...
but, we, will! have...
those romanian fruit & veg pickers!

it's hardly a joke:
more like a choke...
                    what's the difference between...
leaving one part of the country
for another: part of the same country...
and then... being daring enough...
to leave the country: thoroughly...
and have to learn a new language?

dual-citizenship...
go back? stay here?
hmm... i'm not really fond of speaking
or writing in ******...
the germans dissolved...
the russians too: dissolved...
i'm pretty sure that language can
remain intact... as it is...
under the law & justice party...
once they focus on the breeders
with tax-free incentives...

Chicago! what a fine diaspora hub
for the ****** "expatriates"...
good thing i never made it to
h'america: in stripes...

the friends of my youth...
most of then? crimminals...
        the nicknames we had for each
other:
i remember being taunted as being
an... "angol"... because my father wasn't
their father and wasn't part
of laying down the foundations
of "bones" for the dockland light railway...

i left a nation: still in its infancy...
and to its infancy i will drink!
but as a language: not a people...
not a geographic location...
a metaphysical manifestation:
if the word be a faustian signature...
yes, my lord... i see the pinching
itch of the natives squandering it...
like it should not have been...
a frederick hohenstaufen II experiment
in a nunnery on Sicily...
mute children... raised by nuns who didn't
speak: pretending...
to see... what language was genesis primo!

my allegiance is to the tongue...
it might allude to the fife and drums...
but dealing with the rascal
who deems...
that god save the queen be treated
with irreverence...
i'm not as daft and yobbish to glare
with a hydra giving birth to an extension
of its neck-load girth...

give me! the british grenadiers' fife & drum...
and i'll show you le marseillaise!
i have long ago pledge my allegience
to the tongue...
              
because? well... to be honest...
under all the supression from the...
(a) herr meisterstuck:
         the day:
        
        the prussians... "forgot"...
they were jumbled up with the lithuanians
as the last pagans of europe...
and then they decided: whatever it
was that they decided upon...

i hear some russian... i hear a down syndrome
person talk...
it's all lovely and sing-along...
but it's hardly by strict obligation
to the latin script... is it?
i have to nibble at pitty-worth jokes
to aid my...

diaspora: involuntary mass dispersion
of a population from its indigenous territories...
last time i checked...
i was born into a city famously known
for its practice in metallurgy...
i was the never-to-be grandson
of Die Krupp ambitions!
    i would leave my hometown and...
well... there was Warsaw...
or the... brain-drain train "elsewhere"...
from a nation into the grand...
vacuum of the diaspora...

except in england...
       the no. 303... most of which settled
in either Scotland or... Stratford-upon-Avon...
elsewhere... some other... "elsewhere"...

well...
   given that i have had had a choice...
ha ha! comma? sir?! that that?
      given that i have had - had a choice...
well... imagine... perhaps there's something
about Fwench... but i'm chosing sides...
it's not in Norwegian...
so... b'leh b'leh b'leh... b'leh...
                      
               i just have to borrow some german...
speaking this... hybrid saxon having
buggered enough afghanistan-esque brit druids...
the zeppelins were always dropping...
soap-bubbles...
          i tease oh god...
i tease... but this music is so... so...
oh so delight-ful!

                   die könig im gelb!

ah... to marry: when both are in love with life!
terrible affair: should... "life" somehow
matter: to disappear...
this love a suffocation for the best ****
they had in... ever...
and there's nothing of what life is concerned
with...
either children or... being infertile...
but to be in love with life...

the russians can't proclaim a diaspora...
then again: the "mafia"...
i've heard of an italian mob-esque...
      disposition... subsequent undercurrents
to boot...
an... irish mafia?
bothersome details...
         i still pledge my alliance to a Dickens
over a a Shakespeare...
because...
by chance... i might find some poetry
in the prosaic? by Shakespeare alone:
i'm... "expected".... aren't i?

bad news from York-and-the-shire...
Rotherham... and the... prefix ****-
   and the suffix -stani "debate"...
                   do you even know
how... let's not go there...
to term a bogus inconvenience of...

'what the hell is concerning you...
to fathom from cloud-9 a ****** notion of...
being out-bred?!'

an economic war... is a slow war...
it takes time...
it would take the amount of time...
to turn a once proud town focused on
metallurgy into rubble...
some stayed... some moved to warsaw...
some... played: a joker hand de facto...

i am: this... subtle... p.s. curiosity...
had i only come to breed...
rather than to otherwise...
nuance... allegiance...
zu die zunge?! alles!
             die menschen?
                     jeder seine haben!
             die schwach wind und der flagge?!
ist: die schwach wind: und der flagge: nein?

perhaps there's a stressor
of impetus in german that's not allowed
in english...

     ich bin hier für die sprache...
              
it must be translated... such it being:
oh such a wonderful... phrase...

   to marry... when both... are in love... with life...

zu heiraten... wenn beide...
                           sind im liebe... mit leben!

art-*******-and-funky-funky...
parsley-sage-rosemary-thym­e...
        what? thyme? there's a phi or a theta
to posit... instead...
you took the Dubliners' route of: paddy...
tad... and toink!
                'ucking scoundrels!

i will call... the greek-chinese ideogram...
I(ota) the key... and... "thereabouts"...
a keyhole of O(micron)...
it's an id: representation...

                 squashed: yes: 0... for better...
"graphics"...
    
to be young... and to share a half of both:
of being in love with life...

       Φ = the key enters the keyhole (I, O)...
    Θ = the key is turned... (Io)...
         Ψ = the door is opened...

        enough... Beijing "abstract" concerns...
for anyone?
       what's the abstract of rotation?
                                   oh... i guess: 'micron!

so much for abstracts as: only from boing-boing-xin...
some letter can qualify to be
apprehended in ideograms...
B - bossom or a fudge-yeast-byproduct
of a full ***...
              etc. or... Φ, Θ, Ψ...
       now by adding the brackets...
and time has a geography...
from the height of mythology...
to the depths of journalism...
that's... a vector:  (Φ, Θ, Ψ)...

     it's a key... a door... a keyhole...
                            an opening... n'est ce pas?!
hey! let's complicate it further
with: mr. squint... chop-sticks...
dragons... live vermin sushi...
    and counting dry grains of rice...

i'm not: Česlav Miloš...
to begin with... Czesław Miłosz was...
a Lithuanian...
because Copernicus wasn't ******...
"because and because"...
                     sides... all this talk of:
"allegiance"...
**** it... it's a cosmopolitan allegiance
to... the commonality of tongue...
shared to the point...
when... old fictions wrestle with me
and i'm confined to my own cubic...

for english is a language i can
entertain...
allow... yes... this parasite can erode
its host's cranium und...
                                  grauangelegenheit...
it was never... so imposing...
as a german tongue or a russian tongue...
therefore and thereby?
      an easily qualified tongue-donor
with the expanse of thought:
a complete and utter brain-drain on...

now...
there's a difference...
the english will not know it...

there's the nation... and there's the diaspora...
can the english... claim h'america...
or canada... or... australia...
as a nation-extension toward the confines
of a diaspora?
no... i don't think so...

that: quintessential inconvenience of
being merely: english...
   more prone to a local geography...
a devonshire... a derbyshire...
               someone of york...
  lost in new york...
                    a people with...
an imploded seance of diaspora...
    from the humble little island...
to: whatever fraction that was supposed
to make one impose on...

had i just been Irish... and "somehow"
forgotten my Gaelic...
or been that Welshman and no longer
with any Cymru...
well then...
but i come willing because...
      beside the mother and father...
the maternal grandmother and -father...
who will i speak my "native" and "mother"
tunge / zunge to?
          
i rather imagine marriage:
as when both of them are in love with life...
and in love that being said:
a little tale o' whittle england:
make it big in h'america...
        
         this... the most complete...
antithesis of a diaspora...
                    or rather: what lingua franca
was... and what l'inglese is...
and how: even if arabic tried...
and even if: mandarin would hope for...
well... hardly...
jackie chan kung fu and muhammad:
english is more popular than islam...
**** it up: camel jockey!
oh sure... they're "muslim"...
conflicting opinions... once:
speaking in english "arrives"...

                   i'm here: to turn up the volume...
because... i might as well have been
born in estonia... and speaking... estonian...
and never having left estonia...
been very much happy for the euro
and the... thumbling russians... somehow...
"retreating"...
well... if the russians are retreating...
they're: trying to revise being
an indo-european mongrel with...
accents of scandinavia concerning
the founding fathers of Kiev...
and them being russians:
what the hell do we do with the ukranians...
and the mongols that settled and became
tartars?!

yeah... the russians are on the retreat...
    this little island that... hopes for a diaspora...
instead... shuckles...
it has to settle for a h'american empire...
an australia... a new zealand...
ogh! mein! gott! no expatriate diaspora!
no tea with mussolini typo excursions!
mein gott! v'er vill youz goez?!

         zee f'ikkin moonz?! on a sputnik flarez?!
light up baboon *** numero uno:
then whisper among the fwench...

yes... very much brilliant...
         to be alive... and to marry so young...
and be helped: so young...
and not be thwarted...
   'coz crazy bunnies had the best ***...
great: to be alive, so young,
and married: and married to each other
and at the same time: having life marry you
to love it: to be together and married
to a love for life:
and... just... somehow...
having a co-dependent... of reciprocated
self-interests...

                            even in poland...
a soviety satellite...
with concrete chicken-shacks... ah yes:
that... "once upon a time"...
better the ******* state as my landlord
than some grubby liquorice ****** 3rd party:
libertarian "full dislocusre of mammon's
expression of par-tay"... sort of *******!
give me the state, the grey-suit and the gimps!

or? shackle me up for a stipend
working the sloughterhouse...
to boot... a house filled with 20 dobermans...
and 5 rottweilers...
i'll slaughter your cows... for the steak chops...
as long as i have the dogs to cuddle
and imagine myself doing the greater:
cosmic-karma-good...
the dogs... the harem of dogs...
no... women need excuses...
the dogs!

                 hell... a woman would require...
anniverseries... flowers... pinnace for a tsunami...
crumbs... what's a loaf of bread?
details... something to be minded as:
once being a plughole...
blah blah... hands for cushions...
        
              plus... women can't drink...
let her everything else: apart from the whiskey...
if she really wants to drink...
tell her to sober up on some Stendhal or
some Balzac... but don't let a woman
try to outcompete a man drinking...
she can drink...
but not... in that most... ugly: crab-feast
of... "detail"...

the english man... england...
h'america, australia... new zealand...
oh... wait... you were hoping for a diaspora...
weren't you?
yeah... clearly i didn't find an affair of
the imitation of greece...
took charge of the latin script...
inverted the mediterranean sea...

i speak your language: doesn't imply
i've shed the "ethno-nationalist" tattoos of "d.n.a."...
for a people to have made it bitter...
with the teutonic order over access to the baltic sea...
what's the baltic sea?
it's like the black sea...
the baltic sea is about as useful as...
well... the danes and the norwegians
held the toll and price of passing...
just like the turks or the byzantines held
the key of the bosphorus...
the baltic... is a "sea"...
just like the black sea is a "sea"...

did you know... there's a caspian sea?
yeah... it's a "sea"... more like... a lake would
be so much better...

the english could be akin to the arabs
from 200 years ago...
instead: sitting on a tonne of salt...
and waves...
and open horizons...
while the arabs sat on camel ****...
sand... and dinosaur juice...
and materialistic leprosy and limp-****
viagara palm tree impromptu...

sure... the lottery ticket of the past,
oh the most glorious past times...
        nothing lasts forever...
       so it seems...
            here's me celebrating Dickens
to the last... breath... because...
keeping up with speaking my native
language: when there are no
prussians, no russians...
           no austro-hungarians...
and there are only...
ukranians and lithuanians readying
to guilt-trip me over the failures
of the polish-lithuanian commonwealth?!

in this language i can...
ale... nie... w... tym!

Soule of my soule! my Joy, my crown, my friend!
A name which all the rest doth comprehend;
How happy are we now, whose sols are grown,
By an incomparable mixture, One:
Whose well acquainted minds are not as neare
As Love, or vows, or secrets can endeare.
I have no thought but what's to thee reveal'd,
Nor thou desire that is from me conceal'd.
Thy heart locks up my secrets richly set,
And my breast is thy private cabinet.
Thou shedst no teare but what but what my moisture lent,
And if I sigh, it is thy breath is spent.
United thus, what horrour can appeare
Worthy our sorrow, anger, or our feare?
Let the dull world alone to talk and fight
And with their vast ambitions nature fright;
Let them despise so innocent a flame,
While Envy, pride, and faction play their game:
But we by Love sublim'd so high shall rise,
To pitty Kings, and Conquerours despise,
Since we that sacred union have engrost,
Which they and all the sullen world have lost.

I'll remember to eat optimism in the morning,
So that way I can **** excellence by evening.

Maybe one day I'll be as lucky
As the dinosaur bones
Found under the ground.
Instead my words will decay
And rot away
Like our atmosphere.

I pitty those in charge, who ****** thousands of humans
For fossil fuels.

And currently,
I am happy.
Because i've already felt everything else.

My face wears no smile,
My eyes don't tell a story.
I have a heart that beats and finger nails that grow.
It seems to be working out just fine,
And to be honest--
                                  I think it always has.

I'm alone on the cold Friday night of August as I read my last page of my book
And wonder how did I ever get this lonely
And how did I get so antisocial
Was it the movies , the food or even the books I read
I can't think but to blame myself

You've got a shield to hide behind,
For now.
You've got his eyes locked on you,
For now.
The day will come.
His eyes will widen in realization of your selfish carcas of a personality,
Your shield will dissolve away with your fears beginning to consume your body inch by inch.
And when that day comes you will wish you never stepped a foot on this planet, your worst nightmares will become your dreams.
Succubus will become nothing to what the glass shattered before you will reveal.
No number of ghosts or demons will compare to what your eyes will feast upon the day this world reaches through your chest and clenches the rock of a heart you posses tearing it out of your frail body.
You will sit in a chair strapped as can be and watch as your pebble of a heart is crushed with the hammer of your own self pitty.
Beg for nightmares for they are the least frightening for what will stand your way.
And as your blood runs from the slit in your throat to the paved floors, a smile bigger than sunlight will stare right at you.
Thirsty for blood and no blood tastes more rewarding than the one from the knife which penetrated right through your worthless body of a harlet.
The night the psychopath within will be unleashed to feast on the taste of your selfish, ice cold blood and flesh.

-Kathia Mariana Landeros

You will be the first and last,
There will never be another.
You will be my Superman,
I will continue to wait.
You will smile at her,
I really shouldn't complain.
A simple text brought the pieces back together,
Took 24 hours before the damage was done again with the pain multiplied.
"I miss you" left such incredible feeling knowing my name had been thought of,
24 hours later my name had to be erased from your thoughts.
True love doesn't keep from desires,
True love enforces them.
If it's someone you miss,
A hug is what you seek.
Never say "I miss you",
If 24 hours will turn to "I'm leaving you."
"Dont worry about it even if I have to go i'll still watch over you, you won't be alone."
Yet walk away in times of agony.
Anger isn't true to me,
I am not angry,
I never will be.
I am merely a fountain,
Tears will flow upon my wishes slowly transforming me from fountain to well.
From fountain to well,
Drowning in my own self pitty.
Never begging for sympathy but always longing your company.
Goodbyes don't sufice,
Hellos won't come by.
The daily trip to an empty mailbox will haunt my existence till death parts me from it.
Letters expected,
None collected.
Smiles anticipated,
None reflected.
Lyrics turned to memories,
Songs become a life story.
In those songs I feel you closer,
In those songs you're here with me.
I must say you are the playlist and the soundtrack to the greatest memories and worst pain to feel.
I am merely a fountain becoming a well,
My tears are for you.
I bid you farewell.

-Kathia Mariana Landeros

I always said I'm an open book,
I'll tell you anything you wanna know...
Truth is, that book, is only 98% open,
And that 2% that's closed...
Accounts for 200% of what actually goes on in my head,
And about 120% of that 200,
I haven't even figured out yet...
So basically only 80% is possible to get off my chest.
So only 178% of the grand totel of 300%,
Is what you could see of me,
But only if I think you won't **** me over in the end.
And believe me that 122% that's left over,
Unspoken for, weighs more than you can imagine.

I'm not telling you this for pitty,
I'm not sharing the truth,
In the hopes for anything in return.
Cause sometimes, all I need, all anyone needs,
Isn't advice, it isn't pitty, it's not attention,
It's just a nice way of saying,
"Shut up, I'm talking...and I haven't talked, for years."
And all you want, is someone to listen,
Nod their head occasionally.

Cause knowing that someone is listening,
Is the greatest gift, you could ever give someone.

See I've gone long stretches of time,
Not saying a word, just listening.
I care, and I know you won't listen to my advice,
So I sit there, let you bleed your true thoughs,
Till their staining every piece of me.

At the same time, I give up venting.
I keep my mouth shut, so your's can feel better.
But every now and then...
I can't stay silent.
And that 178% I do show usually,
Has dropped to 50%.
Unable to emotionally breathe,
I get to the point where all I want to do,
Is scream, put a hole threw the wall, and let out the pain.

But I don't, I sit down with a good friend,
And say, "Don't speak, just listen.
I don't want advice, I don't need your opinion
I just need to get out some ****."
And unleash the full 300% at 100mph.

People say I shouldn't just let my emotions "volcano" over,
But I think it works...
Cause everytime I bite my lip and listen,
I feel better.
Yeah, I'm suppressing my own ****,
To help you unpack yours...
But sometimes, what you say,
Is what I need to hear.

Cause no matter how much you add up to in baggage,
We all carry an insane amount of ******* on our shoulders.
It's why we have each other.
You pat my back, and I'll wipe your tears,
And together, we'll make it through.

Talk to me about indifference
Can anyone define it? Who defines ?
It’s a word we should understand clearly and fluently
Why? Well…Why not?
Because as humans, indifference is valued
Prized even
Genocide in Africa? I’m indifferent
Pity…
Poverty in our country? I’m indifferent
Pity…
Indifferent it is a word we should use so much more than we do
Indifferent to the screaming of my next door neighbours wife
Pity           …
OH Indifferent!  INDIFFERENT to the hallowed call of a child at the 6 o’clock news with a swollen belly and flies in his eyes
PITTY!
Indifferent to the passions of a man foresworn to his pride and under the influence refuses to admit to his shame!
BY GODS IM A ROBOT
Remove my emotional hardware its malfunctioning strip me of my programs their not the normal
Remove my speech circuitry I’ve been lying…
This hole time I swore closeness and collaboration..
Ideals you all share, seeing pain, listing to the agonising news off a car bomb in Syria! 118 dead! Thank god ill never meet them!
Did I know them? No? ! Well ill share a moment of agony and grief and then continue to buy slave made products and feed my mechanicals beasts with petroleum stolen from foreign lands !
I AM A ROBOT AND YOU ARE TO
Devour my heart it no longer beats, my eyes are desensitized, my spirit aghast at the agony of existing,
The high price of living I was told,
Stand fast and ready your ears like a galleon with no sails and receive the news of your defeat , or would you rather not be there to hear it?
It’s time to listen to the high price,
Social media seems to have developed unto me a craze for the worst ! ive liked pages that post videos of people killing themselves death fascinates me!
I have all of my needs catered for,  
have sources of entertainment
I have a job that allows me  to pillage part of the earth for my enjoyment
I have food that sustains me  and a group of robots that  I call friends, we share the same software  I can relate to them  via USB
And thus the only thing that excites me…that gets me going, that shakes my distraught existence is the thought of..not.
Of not existing
Indifferent..
Endure the agony of hearing that our own… brothers and sisters in humanity where killed,
Beings we share the same DNA for and beings we by some estranged number of generations are related to
Pretend to care for a moment
Indifference,
Watch my world ware thin
Watch my skin grow pale
Watch my organs fail
Indifferent.
Watch cancer take my loved ones
Watch fear destroy my hope
Alone I stand indifferent


Take me to emotion

This is not the way I was designed
The dull thud in my chest is not of rifle fire
Nor is it requisition of my life force of some higher being calling me home
No
It is the device that fights my indifference
It is the vessel that commands my soul to walk on broken glass
The dull thud It is the idea that in ideas we will never die , only grow as humans, within humanity
The dull thud ringing through my chest quickens  when I see you,
The dull thud dies down when I grow cold
It is not the pilot aimlessly guiding me through coordinates listed on a fact sheet like a tour guide
But it is the engine that drives me to aspire to be more, the location from witch I draw force, power,
I do not want to be a robot...  I never asked to be made of steel nor carbon nor sparks
An emotionless vessel to power through indignity and anxiety without a notion to an outsider,
Without consideration to feel
Without consideration to feel alive But sick…steel skin does not get ill without strain,
Steel skin does not grow pale or wither with age
The computer in my head will not fade with time
And my heart has never once stopped
I am not of robotics
I am not of steel
I am merely…
human
And I
Am not
Indifferent!
Scream to me the agony! AGH!  Genocide in Africa?  I will denounce myself to humanitarian work!
I will design my life to bring happiness and joy and inspiration to the masses! I will re-write the ground on which I stand in favour of my own desires!
Poverty in my country?! I will rise to be what is needed! And fall to be humbled!  I will writhe with angst until the government I serve hears my cries and writhes also! To change those laws written in stone and redefine what it is to be human! I will cry for every child living like a dog under the stars, under-influence and angry, because I am angry to!
The cries of my neighbor will be brought to append in front of a judge my community will whale together in her agony and burst forth with our love! we will provide! We will carry her down the streets and sing her name she is not a beaten dog but a queen of queens! As we deserve it!
I AM NOT INDIFFERENT
I am not of the programming I was designed,
Nor am I to append the functions I was written for
I am an arm that writes itself hole as it continues down the page..
I am not of machine
I am not guided by that actions of others
But I am the wholeness of myself
Though fractured I am pure,
Though ***** I am clean
Though broken I am definitively joyful.
I am not indifferent, and I will forever refuse to be so
Because if you take away my indifference…you bring me back
You will bring me back…to my humanity,

*L.G

key words i don't want to use in a poem:
demon,
love,
father,
permeating my insides,
****,
*******,
****,
and every other word that seem to be used by everyone
cliche
including my story
and poetry
and real feelings
tonight i finally realized i was beautiful
in all my glory
in my pain
my lack thereof
my inability to write poetry the past four years despite
watching
and observing
and hoping
and imaging
and picturing
hopelessly
in my inability to feel relatable
in my inability to conform to anything that appears to be a trend
in my safe bubble in my head
in my mother's arms
in my demons
in my loves
in my father
in my permeated insides
in my *****
in my goddamns,
in my *****,
in
me.
i am beautiful.
and i will forget, so please
throw compliments and pitty parties
my way
because that's what i've remembered throughout my days
not the night that i was reminded that
poetry empowers me
on a cold night
in new york city
for the first time
when amazing auras of poets,
and women
surrounded me
just another day for them
but not for me
that opened doors i've been trying to figure out how to open for quite some time
this on the last day of march
of women's history month
of the beginning of april
of poetry month
of liberation
of beauty
of me.
i truly felt beautiful today
with help
but not from you.

Tomorrow will be the day,
not today,
happy pitty,
but tomorrow...
Worromot,
things turning upside down,
or inside out I should say.
Inside out, what an appropriate expression.
Tomorrow will be today sometime tomorrow,
and then
I'll be inside out,
I'll be out, my inside will be out,
exposed to the world for them to throw stones at it,
or my dad rather than the world.
But my insides have toughened
they will be a worthy adversary,
I will be a worthy adversary,
She will be a worthy adversary.
She...
Soon.
Worromot.

In depths of my unfathomable psyche
Submerged I find myself floating around in the ‘shallow’ societal sea of our world.
Oh but it is not ‘shallow’ you’ll see
It is a deep blue ocean that withholds great mystery;
& those who see it as ‘shallow’
Are only those who stand in clouds of constant oblivion; Ceasing the inhale of beauty, intellect, and individuality.
In the depths of my unfathomable psyche
Throughout every passing day
I observe, I listen, and I take into account the things that are done and said by every individual person I come across.
Now here I sit, in the complete abduction of the beautiful, yet merciless monster called insomnia, without fail of corse accompanied by her sister solitude;
& I reflect.
In the depths of my unfathomable psyche
I realize that in order to best express the realization of my reflection…
I must let my walls down; so I will.
And now that I have…
The word to describe the feeling that takes over ‘me’ in this very moment is one that acquires the ability to depict ones exact feelings in a way I do not obtain.
In the depths of my unfathomable psyche
I feel lonely because I know that the odds of me meeting someone as insane as me are slight; yet I feel appreciative because I couldn’t imagine possessing such an ugly, close minded, and indifferent insight.
I feel a type of sadness that could only emerge from a person that fears never getting to experience the comfort that comes from acceptance; yet i feel overwhelming excitement and longing in the midst of my hopeless romantic type daydream of the possibility that I will find my somebody that does not seek to comprehend or figure me out but will accept ever corner and color I currently am and everything I have yet to become
I feel pitty for the average;
Yes I am not sane
Yes I am not average
And yes the depths of my true thoughts I have not learned to control; but my insanity is and will always be the fuel to my potential.

Profile of the Romans, statuesque, we gave her the Italian
Bianca, but from that failed into Bianca Bee, Binky Bee,
****** Pitty for that war injury when she was stationed
in neglect out in someone else’s yard. She keeps her nails
long, is soft as a humus dip, Mediterranean classical,
once a conqueror now gregarious, glamorous
like a female lion or demur when cornered
like movie stars before the war. Plump and voluptuous
like a tank who wants to snuggle and snore
wearing you like a wrap. She made us sure
with her love, inexhaustible
like a Western religion,
unabashed.

Its like I sit and watch the world go by cruisng to oldies,
feeling new inside, but outside is a face of a man who will attack if you dont know me.
gut instinct is below me homie, piece of mind,
dont change your words if you cant cash the truth but besides that...
See im not perfect I lost ties and made knots that made me fall from my own tension with no intentions to stand even if I can, I cant, im grounded by my mistakes that relvolve around me, reminding me what I did made me what I am.
AS I stay subsiding in a position thats clearily hiding,
binding my chest compressed against my last breath , to save what little life I have left in a world where title nor status mean nothing when your an ******* to those you called your best interest I do confess im that lowlife as i cruise still music speak to my esscense releiving me for those seconds im just a person again but after that im back at it again

..I dont write for pitty so let that be known, im just here to vent this steam that once stood ablazed passion for a love that is now a shack of memories in my head of your smile and gestures a feeling I onced called home now ruins from what i ruined, foolish I am.
Clueless more than anything to let many so many slip away im the worst fisherman of love.
because I use my soul as bait, and little by little i let the big ones escape an take chunks of me away to a place I can never retrieve it, so believe it im that space
im that vessle ive became the shell of a hermit , hollow and skirmish.
Tarnished, and used,
debri left as rubble to make roads,
but none to pave my own cause I have no resources
cause im that alone....****,
maybe I can just leave it for those who wish me back if I do something foolish like giveback the life Ive live, for a plaque and a name and a date?
or should I just lookback and keep cruisin passed the bruissin and showin scars of my mistakes as a human,
all I know is....nothing,
and thats why I stay cruissin, freedom of the road and music,
away from the world and my ruins.



-Deep Though aka
Linguist Musician
aka Emmanuel Hernandez

It's Raining but the Rain doesn't make me wet, or at least I don't really care if it gets me wet.
It's cold but the cold doesn't give me shivers, I'm too **** out of mercy to shake out of pitty.
Has anyone ever thought if the rain and the wind perhaps needed some matrimonial consulting?
Maybe I should get a Master's in "Reverse Psychology" and later try a Phd in "Sarcasm Applied to Tradicional Knowledge".
You see,I got a bachelor's in Cinema and TV Production when all I wanted was to write a story about a broken man who loved another human being too much, or perhaps in case of not enough budget, a dog.
Yes... I'm that frustrated if you fancy going around your mind wondering and doing wrong judgments on my personality.
**** I really think the rain and the wind need some matrimonial consulting.
Anyway...
How can you ask sorry to a clown for not laughing?
How can you ask sorry to a wife for not loving?
How can you ask sorry to humanity for waking up after 1pm?
How can you ask sorry to your own body for letting it get all soaked wet?
You would be surprised by the amount of people in the world that don't know how to take a decent coffee and still don't ask sorry for it.
It's not like I'm trying to justify my own bads but these people should definitely ask sorry for theirs.
Alright now, You may be wondering why am I here?
Well, I'm here because I dont have anywhere else to go.
I'm here because I told my now ex girlfriend that 'Im tired of doing everything around home when actually I do nothing at all, so she got all upset and told me to leave,then I told her I wouldnt leave since that was my apartment as well, when actually that was really only her apartment, which she has been paying the rent and bills with the good amount of cash she has been getting from her suprisingly good position at Mills&Albert; Lawyers Company.
She's been ******* the boss anyway...
Well I guess, can't prove it... actually I never thought of it before, just now.
Again not trying to justify anything here.
You know...I've been this kind of guy who spends too much time doing nothing and the rest of the time hiding books that I want, but I shall never read cuz Im too lazy, behind the shelves of the library, so no one can take them away from me.
It's all my fault anyway.
I should have become a doctor of some kind or an engineer or a movie star or a rock start(I knew how to play the bass really fine)but instead I chose to be a loser, and let me tell you that's a pretty hard decision to make... and a brave one as well.
It's like you are sacrificing all your talents in behalf of the world, because the world needs losers to pin down "shame levels" which you shouldn't reach.
Alright Maybe Im just trying to justify something here but anyway... now it's done, now it's too late, isn't it?
Talking about late... I don't think there are buses this late.

Being different wasnt her choice
that she is special,said her maker's voice.
That wasnt the kind of 'special' she thought
through life- with the fact she fought

Always seen in a different way
Never felt special,not even for a day.
Assimilation was a term- to her unknown
nothing but pitty towards her was shown

A knife of the table was taken,
inhaling the last breath-only then she was awaken.
**A new life I shall begin,
in a new body- I will fit in.

What makes you think
Of temperature change in tomorrow's weather

better just button up your coat

You fill you're self with poisons and complain when you cant breath

****** father, open your eyes to what you have
Nobody's gonna pitty a man who cries for riches with rubies in his hands

Needle in the hay stack
The spin of the weather vane
I took a drink of you
And felt heavy to the touch
I lay back on my bed and opened up the dark
I woke up dead
Or maybe half alive
I miss the words
That came from your lips
Poems as mystical as a cloud of smoke
I allowed to twist around my fingers
Maybe I thought of them
Maybe not
Words like forests as deep and as dark
You skip from pool to pool of silver moonlight
Beaming through the trees
Singing a song I once heard in a dream
A bird
A whistle
As you snap your fingers
As you tap your foot
You never trip on
The terrible black roots
That reach up like fingers.
Somewhere far away or very near
You picked a flower
And placed it behind your ear
You sit cross legged a minute
As you drink your can of beer on the porch
You say you feel important and high up
Like angels found you and brought you back
To me
How I see the porch light
Reflecting your hair
As you twirled a lock and whispered
Mars is visible tonight
Red and bright
A shooting star
And you wish

On time with the cosmic dance of fire and color and rain
Earthquake Heartache Lust and Pitty
Your eyes glow in every dark alley
Of this sad quiet city

Life made me mean and I took it out on everyone in sight
I never loved a man on earth and I wouldn't treat 'em right
They told me I looked mighty good; that never made me change
Till I met this wiry cowboy who rode in from the range

This ugly tempered cowboy neglected union dues
He'd sleep with mountain lions when he had the choice to choose
If he wanted sump'm bad--best to say you're the master
He's got more hair upon his chest than a grizzly in Alaska

HE DROVE HIS JACKHAMMER LOVE THROUGH THIS CONCRETE HEART OF MINE
THIS MAN ATE NAILS FOR BREAKFAST; HE COULD SNAP A GEORGIA PINE
BUT HE MADE MY HEART GO PITTY PAT AND THAT'S THE BOTTOM LINE
HE DROVE HIS JACKHAMMER LOVE THROUGH THIS CONCRETE HEART OF MINE

He wouldn't take no sass from me; wouldn't treat me like a lady
He knew that I meant yes when I told that cowpoke maybe
I told him I could love no man so cowboy move along
He told me Honey shut your mouth, and for once I got it wrong

REPEAT

my eyes are not windows to my soul
they are a mirror of yours
not because I want you to love me for someone im not
but because I dont trust you,
or anyone,
to see through.

To see through the tangled web of lies, fear, lonelyness
self hatered and pitty
I don’t want, anybody to see through that.
For somebody to love me after all of that,
well, they must be just as,
well as aweful as me.

I love you because I can see all of you.
I love you because you are scared.
I love you because you know just what to say even when I don’t want to hear it.

I haven’t let you see in yet, but im working on it.
every day I think about losing you,
because Im too afraid to let you love me
so every time we talk,
i tell you a pice of my story.

My eyes are not vindows to my soul
they are a mirror of his, of hers of thiers
Slowly, my mirror is reflecting back on me
showing me that im not as aweful as I feel.

Im also not as great as you say.

But im getting htere

Every time you call me georgous
everytime you remember my favorite song
or word
or color
you remember everything ive ever told you,
even the lies.

Now, you’ve seen it all.
You’ve seen me at my darkest moments,
youve seen me at my lowes points.
You still love me.

My eyes are not a mirror of your soul anymore.
they are windows into mine.