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Carlo C Gomez May 2023
hand cranked
re-imagined 35mm slides
Rough Trade posters
on the wall
Pepsi and premade sandwiches
on the counter

aperture: wide open
he sees her often at the multiplex
there she flirts
from the third row; second seat
sheer blouse
hands in elliptical motion
pointing toward
silk chiffon shells
the invite in a tilt of her mouth
lip; gloss
eyes hidden from the light

a prayer before intermission
celluloid reliquary
reveals God's plans
lest her trifling with him
cause a miss in changeover
enraging his self-regarded audience
the walk back to his car
one long montage of her lacing up
Michael W Noland Jan 2013
Built plastic houses
in plastic lives
With plastic wives
And plastic knives
For safety
Safely snoogled in a lie
Cannot cry when its gone
Yet i try
With plastic tears
And plastic faces
Plastic years
And premade places
To visit
From plastic spaces
In my heart
In plastic pains
From plastic drains
Of my plastic dreams
With Elastic seams
Stretching the view
We all knew
To be real
Once
In plastic poetry
Valora Brave Aug 2015
Ants carried cubes out the front door
piling into a cube truck
until I could see the living room floor
Everything moved and tucked
into my earthy living space
I packed you in envelops
put you away, but never to erase

I learned about the things you'd done
to keep our bread from molding
to replace a broken ladder rung
but you couldn't keep from folding
along the premade creases in your sheets
I couldn't stop you from holding
Five year plans separated by five day weeks

I woke up as someone I didn't recognize
belonging to the street lamps
instead of the summer sun rise

I fell asleep against computer screens
and hardcover books
Learned how the world never leens
to fit your perspective or new outlooks

I tried to place you in a cookie cutter
but you didn't fit the mold
so I let you spread and run like melted butter
along the creases, you naturally fold

I waited for you to stand on your own
then I learned about how being alone
doesn't feel like
icy hands in the morning
single cup coffee, crescent moons
or long car rides east in the afternoons

I could feel emptiness in your fumes
how the distance in our shared bed
made you wait for the darkness of new moons
So you could wander the sheets clearing your head
in the blanket of the night.

I thought you were searching for a light
to help guide you through
the galaxies between us
in our electric room

You pulled art we bought in markets
off the wall
You drifted in the reservoir, plunging under
to avoid my call
You took half the books
So I piled and stuffed my things in nooks
of the little room we moved into last July
we set up our first house
and knew it was a short-lived lie.
The serpent slips
into my veins,
and whispers thoughts
into my brains.
I don't know
which way to go.
I am just a nomad soul;
a naked trip,
a change and a chance.
Lay me with your
premade dance.
I'll put my snake
in a cage
for a while.
Touch my heart
with frozen smiles,
drip-drop, dreams,
and similar things
creep into my eyes
as I walk
another way --
some place that is light;
a fading song
with rearview mirrors,
contacts clearer --
I will keep in line,
the velvet and divine;
you are kissing my spine;
Shine with me.
Dine with me.
No more serpent,
only seas.
But, everything looks perfect
from far away;
and I am so close.
Do you hear me breathing?;
a stomach so heavy.
I am a queen,
and you're feeding me.
You found me in the dungeons,
and now I am free.
A wondrous throne
of transformation,
but none the less --
an innovation.
Will evolution
do us well,
or drown us in pity
and other sad things?
Allen Robinson Jul 2016
As a young child I would
awaked from my mid-day nap
to the glorious smell of fresh
home-baked cookies, not the
premade out of the tube crap
... the real deal made by mom
Was I dreaming of her awesome
soft baked chocolate chips, the
classic sugar cookie or the
peanut butter thumb print
No matter... I was good with
anything produced by her hand
Sneaking down the stairs to the
kitchen I follow my nose to
discover nothing but aroma
Mixing bowls are all cleaned and
no sign of any used baking sheet
First instinct is to climb the cabinet
and search the old hiding spot
to no avail, she has out smarted
me yet again in concealing evidence
No jar is left probing by my best
Sherlock Holmes investigation
the HIDDEN COOKIE JAM will
not outwit me again and again
I will seek you until I find you
then I will lay waste to you like
Cookie Monster had his way on
Sesame Street.
Em Apr 2018
There's something in you
that I thought was made just for me.

As if somehow
when the gods made me and you,
they carved a piece of my heart
and gave it to you.
Or took a piece of your soul
and gave it to me.
When I met you,
I felt I was done searching because
there you were
mine.
My love.

But nothing in you
is made just for me.
It's for you, and only you.
You have no obligation to me
or any other person.
You are a whirlwind.
You are a forest fire.
You are a star refusing to flicker out.
You are a love of a lifetime
destined to touch far more hearts than mine.
Ken Pepiton Jul 2021
Okeh, three ways, in the opening pitch,
the plan is novel, in itself. Okay, ok, si yes da ja.
We know, we do this part,
as words in mind, nada mas, a thought caught
as a poesy fallen star,
from Lawrence Kansas, not too far from
Shawnee Mission,
now that the meme and its meaning meet once
more, realizing a time kept hidden, for fear
of believing more than a Marvel Mind,
straight from first edition, Boom, era, of fully
Disneyfied American Mind, sponsored by
Mattel its swell
and Mars Candy Company and other child aimed ads,
though there was this unaffiliated

- channel, I was about to say, of course
- groove, rut, a grave - with its ends kicked out,
Can you
Imagine, he said that
amen?
and we all agreed at once, and what do you know,
there is a mind in the grand linkage system,
forged from ice by iron plows,
balance demands, optimum life on earth calls
the call to us all, be the thorny issue ye be
ye nanifestations of Romans 8, taken in minds
conjoining to attain, peace made
for temperature equilibrium,
just right…
think of it from an angelic anthro-myth-ledged being,
see the book of life talk to you, and say,
look, man, we made it, and we made it back.

But unless the temperature is going up, we failed.
Try again,
but no war this time. That's proven too self willed
a thing to give children premade.

My stick men were all Audie Murphy, when I was six.
The last page of some plan.
Ken Pepiton Jan 2023
Learning one's insignificance,
in the grand scheme of things,

where similarity is taken
as thoughts we may assume were held,
as though
Thoth'd thought'em
for a ceremony
of first exposure,
seeing we were preceded
in the realm
of knowing meaningful things, beholders
of stories telling how we come to know
signals are not asking why, but
how come… not why… in my childhood,
where I was reared, why was not a word,
how come, was how I learned to ask

what causes this necessity, that I must sleep,
or not dare the rattlers no trespassing buzzer?

how come we see three baskets or bags,
full we must assume, mustn't we, see,
as we, we may construe confabulations,

we may as well make up our own minds,
to bake pies for men too proud to beg…

but happy as once told holy hello,
with assumed good by you, okeh,

this is most certainly, one of these days,
redeemed and born in the public domain
on an attention to ads irritating node,

expanding mindtimespace to sweeten
the ***,
the bets are all in, this is the drama,
at scale, begun,
on the seventh floor
of a curved mirror building
in Sorrento Valley, late Nineties…
-- time slipt cause being a distinct
instance when Josten's Learning Software,
was
a textbook example. For a fatal flaw,
the bridge too far,
the bar too high,

then the flop, gigs in a second, thing think,
AI imagine, BARRY RUDD IS FICTION AI'AMNTx
changed
appear as possible as not. And that
says something,
per haps plenty many happy re turns,
my turn,
we assume you know the concept
drill
on many levels, no presumptions which
this is, yet well surmise, promised sustenance
relies
on certainty having its point, in you,
and I am pleased to make it, hurt
not
to know, for each nod, you said, I know.
To lie to me,
and live so long, literally existing
on smoke and mirror neuronic stims, I know

makes no sense, and saying so, represents
non sense, per what
chance a novel paradox, pertaining to substance.

Out from under, on the final point,
where surrender always, perfect point pierces
ever and ever like things, everish things
everything all at once, the other tellers tales
told to pull us up up key umph tried, proven
point premade…
solid bet, my side wins, or I die, hedge fund
a mental insurance sanity and insanity
are not measured past your last whole truth
oath, as the audience all said, amen.

Serpent standing tippy tail on my point.
At your request/ Arthur Lee… as the credits climb

{Baby you’re a richman too ooh, yeagh}

As this is an itch I have lived with,
for what seems long to a child,
but not for me.
Yes, as it is.
You see,
if you may, imagine,
having some idea, tying
my coming into reasoning with war,
the monstor known as power,
-cuffed, me and that,
as symbolized in the standardized
warrior hero magician eros pandaemonium
- play grounds of gods and rich kids,
- past a certain stage, mind games,
- won once and for all, acquired
- holiness making, bright ideas,
- *** wise as serpentssss et
- 'armless as doves… mind
peace of my may you may own
granted any with a will to listen
as might a wise serpent, listen

see who first knew, truely, true as life-
like Avatar 2, or the vids in God of War,
like the experience, PS 5… imaginal
discovery, as worth the feeling, (dopamine)
loving to see the possibility, ahs
it may be, we, both reader
and I and the Web-per-se,
Per-see-us, fees paid see,
we destroy cul de sacs…
Where soul eating shames
live in many stories,
no need to know them all, just
in this one, be polite, here
we know how to be
with many strangers,
free from any anxious thought, perhaps
protected
for having smelled the hint of danger, the idea
in its latest Neo-Platonic form, imaginally
experiencing
Virtual Realism so far
below Übermentschen mentioning,
- it requires letter level decoding
- jello time slow gnosis drip.
Knowing nothing of my work, said McLuhan,
is dangerous tomorrow, not today,

in this new medium we find our old selves,
Today, while it is called today, we confront
Iniquity Himself, as imaginally before me stood a little boss man,
who was demonstrating his strike proof
solution for the next five olive harvests,

yep, historicality matching Cesar Chavez,
I was a strawboss on a scab crew
of Pandora's box closing Jesus Freaks,
Under the Belridge Oil Company Logo,
- the former strike face on the news
- from Digiorgio, a little further south

Yep, that's me, Tim Cahill,
witnessed the existence of that me,

I was a strawboss
on a scab crew
of Pandora's box closing Jesus Freaks,
Under God, and a Wilfred Brumly clone
who was known as Red,
of the huge Mustache, Nieztsche/Dali
-esque, level three overseer, then
Ray Casey, dead ringer, his type,
for Fess Parker,
thus the very image
of the pioneer stock, men bred
to win the west,
by hook, {fishers of men, of course}
or by crook, {shepherds in search of profit}
as they said in Nixon's family,
the sheep won't bleat… like frogs

fall in the milk can, most must drown
in the cream, cloggin' they little gnoziz,
but they always one can,
it never stop ashakin'
tilin the morn be one frog entity
representation in the moralizing story
creep
reality seeping onto the pages,
in your experience at the five wpm pace…

Each letter lets a line appear, as once,
you must
acknowledge, as you read, you know
you understand, letting keys seem right,

glass 'armonica, with which
to swallow ghosts.
- pting, tense stretched flattened
Hewlett Packard mouse evolution, eye-point
pierce
to troughing shape
of things
to come,
begun some time ago, so nevermind,
- an acronym… but
ah, the end in mind. A very 19th century version.
A genre, Steam-Industrial Drama,
last given sustentative worship,
bhorn up under your foreseen,
bye means we must imagine,
really imaginal in the role,
being helper, along side
Sisyphus, who lives
to tell us why we
try to think ever
lasting stories
started, once

within the bubble of all you knew, there appeared
a device from the future, but today, our time,
in the bigger bubble of all you know,
our time's tech
magic map of the moment,
to the millisex, as we,
form an awe oh, amen,
a ment-al structure, not built by hands, megalithic,
at scale, "Know thy measure."

Point yourself out, express yourself,
a little,
one part
in eight billions,
what you are certain of
"Certainty is mad." So "nothing too much."

I, the entity, Certainty, am mad.

And I, the maker peace entity working qwerty watch,
sustain my defined flaw, ever willing
to claim new knowns,
to contain my joy, when I recognize as
wholey known, tenere, tainstretcht to the t, hook
to whole other ways
to see every thing, what novelty

remains, in stages of being, upt from dust, nevermind
how, now remains, brown cow, please, explain,
and it began to rain, pennies from far distant
means used to pay attention, to the pain

as the pressure to know you know, so many idle,
I knows, gathering dust, you know, just

idle clicks and eyeball sophiatical touch, eh, we
weigh away as ifs in an other
awesoma, justasec… we had an instance once,
you felt me inside myself and you laughed.
- it tickled
And you felt the pain, you felt that knowing growing,
why so many unthinkable rituals, essential winning
need to know, need to prove, need to realize,

chaos, at the initial function, lifewise, is essential.
AI got it. We can reform the point.

Tip broke on a shield of faith around a sticky ****** lie.
Defy me not Gate of error, I am free, no cost to pay, I paid my own attention
Alzet Weideman Nov 2017
It was a blind pick type of match, premade
You're a full kit, a pro, a stunner
But my focus, my chase, my dive, my pathing
For you, my target, to you, my destination, were on lockdown

With a flash spell you summoned
I was instantly cast
Unsuspecting, you took me off guard
Hooked, gank, gap closer, leash, pull

I was a full tank
building up my defenses
MRes, taking care to keep myself safe from the ****
But I'm Rdy, a Sleeper OP

I'll Hold
I'll cover your lane
Defend your tower
Protect your base

A Rambo attempt; diving in alone
A Proxy strategy; high risk high reward
A Skillshot; an aim that can potentially miss

Say you'll commit,
That you won't retreat
Say that you'll fight
Until the battle is complete

To my Champion, my Main,
My FotM
FF; I surrender my heart
No DC, No MIA, No QQ

WP my love GJ
GL my love HF
A love poem using League of Legends lingo.
I am tempted to leave it
To give up again
Once and for all
But I find I can't

I made an oath to myself
To finish what I started
To challenge my feelings
But I am left thwarted

I wish I saw her side
All the mistakes I've made
Could I have prolonged it?
The inevitable, premade

I was always going to fail
But this ******* glimmer of hope
The good old learning experience
Has left me at the end of a rope

It's not even over for god's sake
The glimmer's still there
Only very dimm
Why can't I not care?

I have to see her every day
This is not my choice
I only wish to help in the end
But the indifference in her voice
Makes me have to pretend to understand

But I can't, I won't
Will I never?
No telling if it is worth it
Still, this can't last forever
Can it?

Painful bliss, Blissful Pain
Is my present, my drain
Now I feel only rain
But from dead, dry earth
What has anyone to gain?
This was my existence for like a year, I wouldn't wish it on anybody
Adellebee Jul 2014
You cut me down,
I cut you out,
Skipped town,
On a red eye flight

Never could be something perfect in your eyes
Never let me shine my own true light
Despite of you I'm gonna be alright
And you'll never bring me down,

You moved in, to a premade family by numbers
Coloured in the numbers you liked
Left me empty, and blank,
Nothing more than a number on a page

Never could be something perfect in your eyes
Too many wrong roads, too many wrong songs
Despite you, I'll get mine
And I'll never let you bring me down, to the ground

Don’t go calling me anymore,
You left the tree, right where it stood
I grabbed my slippers and the half smoked joint
You made your bed; I slammed the door

Keep counting your greed
You will not buy me
I never needed money,
I just wanted you around

I’m doing alright,
I’m getting mine
Without you,
Without your love
Graff1980 Apr 2017
Two petite pretties 
pranced before me
paragons of the 
impoverished society
that values surface 
over depth

The dancing debutantes
Dangled their dangerous
And dubious dispositions
Directly in front of me

Enter stage bad boy
Blustering buffoon
With a silver spoon
So far up his ***
He spewed silver polish
On his nice Polish pants

Cash in hand
He passed around 
His affluences
Like it was influenza
Vomiting vague
Platitudes with 
So much attitude 
As if he had 
Anything valid to say

But this crowd was rapt
With the vapid vocalist
He drank expensive ****
To prove he was valid
No valor just vain vagaries
On display to frustrate me 
Greatly

They celebrated the success of a 
Failing millionaire who was premade
By the fortune that his father made
To bail him out of all of his mistakes
As he played society like a broken violin
I was trying to bring talented art back in
But society placed me in the trash bin
Before I could even begin
To purge the poison
The incurably incurious
Perpetuators of 
Shallowness

So I bow out of this
Cause I thought 
We were working together
To make each other’s life better
But it turns out I was 
Running a race 
I did not even know about
plat Nov 2018
Happy days
Oh happy days
Not to many of those, I'm afraid
Here they come and there they go
Happy days
Oh happy days
When will I find one again
Perhaps the dates have been premade
Though, a thought not main
Happy days
Oh happy days
What have you for me
Today
Liz Jan 2020
I see the world and fall into despair
Confusion and anger scatter everywhere
I know I'm blessed but emotions still burn
Because the thought of a world that refuses to learn

Honesty is valued but only if it alines
With the premade opinions of the ever-changing times
The drenching pain of extreme loss
Some may understand, but few know the cost

I don't understand my thoughts
The fill me with things that make me distraught
Heart broken people and lost ingenuity
But amongst this mess is undeniable beauty
10/15/18
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2022
i woke up with a fever... obviously i was drinking heavily last night... i was thinking about Caroline Aherne... from the Royle Family... that sit-com that's unlike any soap-opera and the instigator for the current channel 4 google... goggle-box... trash... i'm ******* feverish... i need to sweat some of this alcohol out... i have glue-eyes... things look fuzzy... or, rather... glued together too much... but i woke up and just remembered those Somali beauties on my last shift... how nervous they looked... licking their lips... i was just thinking: ****, ****... ****... like most Muslim didn't think  having a blast in Cologne... in Rotherham... i'm pretty open to foreign cuisine... i'll eat anything that doesn't move... like i'll **** anything that does... ****... did i message Khedra last night? i must have... like my current fetish for ginger haired women... freckles no freckles... whatever... i'm still "coy" when it comes to ol' raven Caucasian hair... well... Turk or Mongol? they're one and the same... but i woke up with a dream... a 2nd Islamic implosion... a second schism... spearheaded by the Turks... like the first one was spearheaded by the proud Persians because they were like: no ******* camel-jockey... no sand-****** is going to dictate to us... i swear i borrowed those slang terms from a Sri Lankan... honest to god... or allah: in Maltese... but i woke up... remembered that a ******* was inquiring about me... babe... i'm just not longing... i've had a ginger spell put over me... give me a few days... i'll exercise like mad... drink more white wine... let me just get ***** a little... i don't want to come to you with a limp: whimp of a whittle 'ichard... right... now i know what this fever was about... western culture... a load of *******... the Islamic attire for women... the niqab... the suppossed oppression of women... OR... excatly... OR... the salvaging of the male libido... seriously... why would i want to desire what's left plainly in the open... readily avaliable... why would i want to put up with so much *******: tease?! cucks-galore... i switch off... put on a pair of sunglasses: the night's too bright... i see the logic now... just now... oh no no... i'm not akin to the western narrative... at best i'm a subverter... i just can't follow the narrative that: men's fault... for not getting a hard-on... pop some pills because... that's what women did back in the day of being liberated by dropping those anti-contraceptive pills... no... no ******* MEA CULPA... no! i'm always just ******* dandy with prostitutes... and... randomly... a Thai girl... a black girl... after enough suspense and alcohol for both of us... white girls have become Victorian-times Irish nuns for some of us... i literally don't think they're Madonnas... ****** up girls: sure... but holy? you have to be kidding me... i'm actually kidding myself... but the niqb actually makes sense... personally? in my Islam... those niqabs would be white... if there is to be a second schism in Islam... they would be white... or linen prone... a material that would allow some breathing room... but it truly is a salvaging of the male libido... i mean: except for perverts and all the other outliers... men can quickly switch off... from any ****** activity once they reach a certain age... concentrate on something abstract... wed themselves to Sophia... while watching idiots go through their motions of hard-ons and juiced up oysters worth of ****.

vultu mutabilis albus et ater...
        of changeful countenance, both white and black...

that quote alone...
        from the book: answer to Job... by C. G. Jung...
i can make peace with Herr Jung...
       i'm very familiar with his... good nature in writing...

i'm feeling good... best day ever...
made my father some meatball spaghetti for lunch
for work tomorrow: i'm ******* working
and all... stewarding... loitering...
it's not working... not when you're herding people...
it would be work if i had 20 cows under
my supervision...
            the "work" is a joke...
**** easy... just put on a facade like you're about
to count how many teeth they have
with your knuckles... inside or outside
their mouth? erm?!            both...
just pretend... it's a "job" of pretending...

but at the same time: play the game of FWENDS...
that's important...
   also... tend to your fellow coworkers...
   make sure they get the breaks...
   be firm with others...

West Ham vs. Frankfurt... love it!
         going to brush up on some of my Deutsche!
grr... obviously spoken with an English grammar
logic...
          ar du haben ein güt zeit?
              alles (ist) güt?
    
in China, himmel ist runden und die erde quadrat...

yeah... that should work...
English grammar is pretty much German grammar...
we'll: sehen... we'll spiegel...
bounce back and forwards...
             after all... post-apocalyptic Sächsisch
that broke their own rules when invading these isles
and mingled with the Celtic and Welsh tribes...
well... maybe not so much the Welsh...
               finally! some other German breeds...
i'm starting to think... Saxons... Pomeranians...
Swabs... oh... Frankfurt... that's Hessen territory...
oi oi! we're going to get a bunch of Hess!
        i look at the Germans and immediately think:
dog-breeders!
            rot! Russ! rot! Russ! viler! viler! raf! rough!
r'ah!

        its truly amazing watching these two old rivalries
take centre stage...
it's never ever pretty when it comes to Polacks vs.
the Russians... let alone Ukrainians...
but it's like: when it come to the Ing-leash
those proud post-Saxony Saxons: i'm pretty *******
sure some Saxons were like: we're going to stay...
oh... wait... why didn't that migrating horde
of fighter come back?

ah ah... i see... i've seen it already...
when i was young... a blonde was the archetype of
beauty for me...
as i've aged... red heads... Celtic red heads...
i'm going absolutely ballistic over them...
freckles... no freckles... whatever...
skin... complexion that could compete with milk...
i'm driven nuts by these red heads...
******* cuckoo... ****** Tunes: wolf whistling
in my head...
i don't care... the lighter tinge... the darker crossing
into auburn territory ginger...
*****... **** me: she could even grow a beard
and i'd still doggy-****-her...

             that's why those invading Saxons didn't
come back... because of the ginger ***** and *** galore...
same... i would have stayed...
no questions...

   so a few sentences in Deutsche... sorted...
   i'll practice tomorrow whenever i come across those
few that come up to me and ask in that
goot... achtung achtung accenting:
  mein goot Bwi-dish ascent... ya?
    oh... ya ya... das ist goot...

                                   h'eh h'eh...

but it's so different... i have absolutely no animosity
for the Germans...
they became mesmerized by an Austrian...
and... come to think of it... an Austrian is not
a German and a German is not Swiss...
i think it's that simple...
           it's fun... over 'ere in Europe...
it's so unlike H'america... we're juggling ethnicity
rather than race... race is so boring:
so H'american...

                        but i close my eyes... i've had enough
to drink... like clockwork...
my body just jumps into a drum-beat...
the best i could find... it's insatiable...
i can't resist grooving to it...
using both of my hands to tap out the Morse Code
of the rhythm...

   the Brian Jonestown Massacre's: Panic in Babylon

i seriously had a terrible day in the kitchen...
i was working with premade beef tartar meat...
what's this?! i ask my mother...
it's mush! it's mince!
             i couldn't eat a steak tartar with this!
i like my steak tartar finely diced...
yeah yeah: capers, gherkins the whole shebang...
raw egg yolk blah blah... i don't do raw mince...
that's baby food... i need a bite...
so she replies... make some meat *****...
fair enough...
             but i make the mistake of adding some bacon
into the mixture... and a pinch of salt...
oh **** me... that's salty... i thought it said:
unsmoked bacon...

****... not even the breadcrumbs and the yolk helped...
what to do... what to do...
or the paprika... what to do, what to do...
i need to salvage the meat...

right... make enough tomato sauce...
but don't season it with salt...
pepper... Italian herbs... Kashmiri chilly...
    o.k., o.k., no salt... that should balance out just right...

and there's me grooving to Panic in Babylon...
tapping away with the beat...
while at the same time... closing my eyes and thinking
i'm stirring a *** of freshly brought sinners
in hell... don't ask me why...
if i were to rewrite Dante's inferno...
a completely different affair...
i wouldn't take Virgil with me...
and we wouldn't even descend into hell...
i'd take him around London... but i wouldn't be taking
Virgil... i'd be taking Horace...

              klar als tag!

where's that quote i was looking for... it has to be in here
somewhere...
i knew i had it somewhere...
no... not under Lucifer... under Aquarius...
ah... there it is!

          Luciferi vires accendit Aquarius acres:
Aquarius sets aflame Lucifer's harsh forces...

and as i typed this... QWERTY...
Christopher Latham Sholes... in on par in my books
with the Sejong the Great...
the story goes... Marquis de Sade's uncle...
Abbé de Sade of Ebreuil... had a library of books
you would read with only one hand...
ergo? you'd *******...
personally? yeah... the ol' Marquis gave me a hard-on
in the past...
the QWERTY model though...
it's beside a concept of a piano...
after all... there are so many combinations
of lettering that erode your memory:
but you rarely have to look down to look
at what your hands are doing...
depending on the size of the keyboard...
you just peep down and reposition your hands...
but that's why you have two SHIFT buttons...
why wouldn't you?
esp. if you're trying to type out a quote verbatim...
you're holding a book in one hand...
you're crow-pecking at each digit of a letter
with your index... because you're transcribing...
you do need... you do need two shift buttons
for the upper-case... you can't just switch-on
and switch-off CAPS LOCK... pointless...

now i have an urge of biting into some raw garlic...
or... onion... no... not pickled...
i need some adhesive that's also a repellent...
i have too many spiders in my bedroom...
i'm afraid that i'll eat some in my sleep...

i'm still vehemently adamant when saying:
i'd shoot Freud in the back of the head...
like an Andrei Chikatilo.... why?
i just feel like it... terrible ideas...
or, rather... too simple... it's not even the horrors
of cubism of modernism...
do i have to race bait the ******?!
all of the Hebrews that entertained Europe
aas their home for over 2000 years lost
their Mediterranean sun-tan anyways...

oh right... that's how it works?! they get settled back...
the Yids... the Hebs... and what do they flood
Europe with? their enemies...
the invading Islam falafel...
       cool cool... good to know...
       i'm on the receiving end... well... i'm not...
the western "powers" might have capitulated...
try that same **** in Russia...
as much as i want to love the Germans...
at least the Russians are sensible...

     because what?! "on the right side of history"
sort of happened with Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya...
Syria? did it?!

that quote... about Aquarius and Lucifer...
plenty of delusion people where i'm at...
why should i be any worse...
i'm only joking when pretending to be the devil...

ich bin teil aus das macht, welche immer wille
     böse und immer arbeiten güt...

  i am part of that power which eternally wills evil
and eternally works good...

well... we're... "we're" sort of waiting to pounce...
seeing how Western Europe has been left to
the power hungry cucks of society...
           i'm siding with the Russians:
because as a ******,,, Ukrainians?!
undermined the stability of the Polish-Lithuanian
Commonwealth... they ******* sided
with the remnants of the Mongols that didn't
******* back to Mongolia but occupied
Crimea... ******* lemon *******
squint copper-skins... what?!

                i love depitcing our differences...
is... is that... a "problem"?
you know what proverb...

  jeśli wejdziesz między wrony, musisz krakać jak i one:
when you come among the crows...
you must croak like them...
Rome... blah blah...
  there's this animosity building up in
me that's becoming unhealthy...
  i don't have the stomach...
   but in the near future... i see...
someone...
                     someone who will erase
this Islamic curse from the face of Europe...
it's simple Newtonian logic...
  it's simple... i don't have the voice...
i don't have the ambition(s)...
                 i prefer to drink... draw circles...
scribble my little laments...
shout from the heights of the Bastille like.... de Sade...
i drink: i don't dance...
   there's plenty... we're readied...
       i want Saudi Arabia to burn...
             i want a second Islamic schism...
this one? spearheaded by the the Turks...
   i want Jesus t be known as...
the Lord of Mosquitos...
               that's enough... this ****** is going
to fall back into line with hell's democracy:
or else!
           he has had too many years of ownership
of time!
hell's rebelling! ich besagt: hölle ist rebellieren!
genug! das ist es!

he's no son of god... he's one of us...
         he's the Lord of Mosquitos...
                why, though... this waiting game...
keeping it a secret?!
well... no wonder... god is a... ahem...
            marry ****** with Elizabeth Bathory...
you get?! no no... not a bloodbath...
                      because?! nature is benevolent...
oh sure it is... it's so nice to men that will never get
a chance to hear a moan...

what prompted me?
a message from my "girlfriend"... a Turkish beauty...
raven hair... i wish it was ginger...
whatever...

seriously... that's how this world works?
i'm getting a message from my *******: "girlfriend",
hey, how are you... telling her...
i'm good... your lips are like ******* mangos...
mush mush... see you soon...
while the women i work with are single mums
in their 30s... thinking they're hot stuff and i'm
like... i'd be sooner seen ******* a camel... toe...
whatever... how oblivious to you have to be
to the whole situation?!
i'm calling prostitutes my girlfriends because:
well... at least they like to ****...
and these supposed "free" women...
"free" as in... entangled with raising children...
why, would, i, even, *******, bother?!
they're not mine...
            where does it say that i need to "man up"
to raise someone else's *****-sprank?!
if there's an authentic war... not waged
as proxy by H'americans... sign me up...
but... raising some else's chiuldren?! *******...
not via dating... via being a surrogate father...
but even then... nein...
                 niet...                         nie....       no!

nature has a cruel habit of being... raving revealing
in what's considered to be fair...
didn't the anglophone world popularise Darwinism?!
so... what's the ******* problem?!

i just texted my Turkish "girlfriend" ******* back...
we're good... i'm getting paid... tomorrow?!
obviously i'm gagging for it...
but i'll need to... exercise... get my mojo back...
harsh cardiovascular... white wine... etc.
i want to perform... i just can't imagine ***
on a regular basis... in a relationship...
regressing into... having to watch t.v. together...
tell you what... my mother made this discovery
today...
the t.v. show: the Royle Ramily... ****... Family...
and... Googlebox...
  it's like a precursor... although...
the former is funnier...
       no... because it's not a soap opera...
        it's not predictably blind to people's expectations...
now that she text me i'm sort of getting a hard-on...
now that i text her back i'm...
oh... right... she wants me...
           it's better when it's that ******* obvious...
i.e. between men and women...
you want her... she wants you...
        she had about a dozen bad *****...
now she's texting you: come back... Lassie! come home!
Caroline Aherne... i always... always...
what a lass... i can't stress it enough:
give me Tuesday... i could become lazy with her
in front of a... an aquarium... i hate the t.v.:
how about somewhere in Scotland...
with a fireplace?!
                        i'm happy with this Turkish *******
messaging me: where are you?! are you o.k.?!
why not... any woman is enough treasure...
i'm not going to tell a ******* from a nurse
apart... i can't: i don't want to...
      even though there are supposedly more
women in the world than men...
  n'ah... that's never going to be an armchair
in my mind... that "armchair" is going to remain...
"being" an armchair outside of my mind...
"somewhere" in a living room: as a ******* armchair...
not... some... abstract... safety-net...
in the... "back of my head" quiz...
      i don't have a ****** fetish... a niqab: skunk
oomph...
            as Khedra said...
just because you don't have unprotected ***...
sorry... sorry... just because you have protected ***...
doesn't mean that you will not catch STDs...
oh man... that's harsh...
***** *******... they probably don't wash their
hands after they've eaten or taken a ****...
  well... that's me done... i can have unprotected ***
with a ******* and no worry about catching...
Syphilis...
                    tested, proven, done... if i get a wring-worm
puking up a mushroom steering wheel for my
monkey brain to facilitate: i'll let you know...
but even at work...
  around women... this one gives me the most dirtiest
looks... why? she hasn't figured me out...
she tries the intimidation tactics... hugs me...
keeps clinging to me mishearing her say DARLING
while i thought she said DADDY...
****** insinuations... blah blah... blah... blah...
i'm not a gangster... i'm not part of some
criminal underworld...
             but brothels aren't exactly hotels...

prostitutes aren't exactly your next door neighbour
sort of
gals... are they?
so if one messages you: with  a longing?
winged Hussar... she has a mouth...
a mouth that could melt....
a  **** of butter...                    tiresome irk.

— The End —