The Kuwait Warriors are in my Jeans
My new favorite cartoon
Saturday mornings, sugar cereal, spoons
I use force to deal with the mentally ill

Prison gauge my earrings, brah
Psychiatric hospitals for playtime with myself

I can ******* to hippopotamus
Look to me like I’m amazing
I’ll be a living god

Not really, more flu shots
Put them in my eye
Sky for my eye and flanksteak for my heart
Give me all the Bacon and Eggs you have

I call my mustache the crop duster
Cuz I’m always cleaning bush with it
Blow a load
Of cash
On my body shots

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Of America Merrill Edge Tyson
“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
Keep it Real Keep it Tyson Is This Sequence
“We’ll Try Not to Show That Ad Again”
Correct? Luminosity Zenni Slide
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I used to live in a country
That was based on liberty
And where just anybody
Could achieve prosperity
That with assured equality
And working diligently
One could expect definitely
To succeed economically
If you saved all the money
Left over from your salary
To save to bring your family
A step closer to solvency.

Not an impossible proposition,
It was based on the condition
Of a grand national institution
Which promised that stabilization
By taxing us and corporations
With an equitable correlation
Between folks of humble station
And the larger organizations
Working in happy syncopation.
A welcome feeling of elation
Would descend upon our nation
And keep us from stagnation
Or going into nationwide deflation,
Or just as scary, a huge inflation.

Now I look upon our history
And see decades of misery
Laid upon us by calumny
By those meant to fortify
And build up our security.
The constant forces of calamity
If we accept less than probity
From those who have no honesty
Choosing leaders based on beauty
A national cult of personality
Then permit political chicanery
By people with no dignity
Only a greedy criminality
That pretends to propriety
And a devout base of spirituality
When what we have is actually
A kangaroo court of dishonesty
Without a care for the citizenry.

Dean and I loitered on iron horseback
Flaked with nuances and peppered with a keen stutter
Our jokes had weight
Weight creates a gravitational pull
Our jokes had a gravitational pull
My clone emerged in the rearview mirror with his girlfriend
Dean and I thought that was funny
They were attracted to us, for once
We got a bite to eat, my head, like a gyroscope
Universal karma
Revolving, self-stabilization
Into the palm of reconciliation
Forced by nature
With interdependence
A means to measure
And counter each sentence

I’ve summed up the equation for my isolation
It's People who look up, look down, left and right
Desperate for information
We never looked inside for much needed inspiration
Instead,
We lead a life of impulsive behavior mixed with preoccupation for our own reputation
I've lost toleration for the weak minded population
Individual thoughts slowly decay and eventually cut off circulation
Sending thoughts on permanent vacation, worthy of respiration, ideas now suffer suffocation
If this is my "generation"
I’d rather live in hibernation
You can take this as retaliation
I just don’t understand why we seek gratification for having no imagination?
I swear,
It’s like the world around me is nothing more Than telecommunication
Different voices yet the same conversation
Broad interpretation leaves room for destructive *******
Shedding uniqueness for trendy consolidation
Who the **** do you think you are? a star?
You're no constellation
You expel no illumination
Your personality is a narrow cultivation of
Seedy corporation,
Media publication,
And lack of moral stabilization
Let me give you clarification
Meditation is my detonation
Put words in your mouth before you die of starvation
We all have a fixation on giving into temptation
Putting ourselves in situations were
Passion is stimulation,
Trust is manipulation and
Love is *******
Pour out your heartache in perspiration
After ******* we expect a standing ovation
*** is nothing more than sensation
**....are we lost beyond the point of navigation?

Most of us are familiar with
The escapism from pain.

For an easy and cheap solution
Or because of advices of the
Doctors, psychologs;
Most of us get a cheap piece of matter
Triggering the oscillation of dopamine,
Making most of us addicted to them
As well as being harmed
As the result of their side effects.

Even the teens intoxicate things
Causing these things.

Some of call this signalling matter
Nicotine or alcohol.
Others call drugs as well as
Medicines having great side effects on
Our psychology that means
Our minds, feelings and importantly
Our souls.

How these piece of matter
Deletes your pain?
Simply, by affecting your
Biologic structure.

This causes the cage of
Emotions and behaviours
Freezing your actions and thoughts
As well as mostly
The cage itself.

This stabilization of actions therefore,
Decreases the capability of
Varying the actions.

What you can do,
You are capable to do.
Capacity is the power.

Lesser power lesser creativity.
All in all
Nothing more than robotic step
You all do in all.

By lesser creativity,
What you do becomes
Completely addiction.
No good, no bad;
Only the robotic step
You all do.

So subject becomes object of
External distraction.
In the hellish world,
You are distracted to hell.

A piece of addictive matter
Ends with
Painful robotic suffering
Until you fade away.

But the music, music, music
Is the harmonious effective vibes of
Yourself.

This music can do anything,
Instead of freezing you only if an only.
This music can do anything,
By transforming the self by
Twisting you through making you
Its beautiful voice.

We classify the music
In account of its causes.
But material cause is not the music.
Instead, the elegance of meaning
As well as the shining effect
Is the music.

It is the music that will
Create the best in us!
Make the best of us!
Hold the best of us!

Than you may say,
I want music but this is poetry.

Than I say,
Poetry is the music of the words.

It is the music of life
Will the shining ray of creativity.
It is the music of life
Will the kingdom of heaven.

Its the nectar in form of music
Being the music of nectar,
Becoming the nectar of the music!

Music creating music
In seem of poem.
Catch it, follow it!
Better than any drugs.

Music creating music
In seem of poem.
Say it! Sing it!
Better than anything!

It is the best, you desire!
We call it, you are welllllllllll...

Application of misinformation
Falsify a failed nation,
Eradication of all creation
Misinterpretation
Of representation
Deny the station
Granted by occupation
And the inhalation
Of justification
No prerequisite information
Just accumulation
No moderation,
Their determination
Through stimulation
Cultural *******
Communal degradation
Societal desecration,
Dehumanizing revocation,
Worldly humiliation,
Mortal sterilization
Never achieving mobilization
Lack of communication
Excelling in vile persuasion,
Proponents of procreation
Birthing digitization,
Destroy civilization,
Indications of adoration
Isolation in delineation,
Irrational indexation,
Fluctuating indignation,
No innovation,
Divination
Retaliation,
Immolation,
False ovation,
Lacking limitations,
Contextual intonation,
Divine fabrication,
Private publication,
Evolving fornication,
Give me extermination,
Notwithstanding annexation
Of dismaying oxidation,
Of valued perpetuation,
Global mass-castration,
Redundant rhetoric, dictation,
A donation, a dilation, a fixation,
An annotation of fibrillation,
We are personification
Of Contamination
Through globalization
Praising idolization
And finalization
Through *******,
No pragmatic exoneration,
In all frustration
We see not utilization
Nor stabilization,
Fearful implications
Of wayward stations,
Surplus mutilations,
Seeking militarization
Of worthless nations,
No conservation,
Just excavation
Of the population
******* on education,
Spitting on graduation,
No validation of aspiration,
Indoctrination of baptization
Mitigating litigation,
murdering habitation,
Quelling all vegetation
We will end in radiation
Through faulty navigation,
Abdication and abnegation,
All worldly agitation
Leads us to expiration,
Self-made annihilation.
There was never an end in sight,
We’re lost, and hope is a lie.

It's hard to feel ****
when you're an unemployed college drop-out
who lives with her mother,
and your most recent achievement
is the stabilization of your short term memory.

I've got my thumb over the send button
of a text to a local ex
who was here in this same room
about, oh, five years ago
putting on his shirt while I
sat on this same bed,
neither ****** nor mother,
calculating the recent decrease in value of my soul.

doubtlessly swallow the certainty that
i was nothing but necessary foundation
nothing but your essential stabilization
for your cruelly selfish character to devour
i will continue to conduct my silent sorrow
you couldn't even start to comprehend
so obviously unbeknownst to you,
that this, is the heart, that you grew  
and if you ever bother to read this,
it will still be inaudible to you
i condemn my miserable heart
for individualizing this devious,
oh so lonely creature

For three reform years
Engaged in a killing spree
Not allowing citizens’
Mind for a second to be free
Among ethnic & religious groups
Creating and fomenting antipathy
Of the highest degree
We proved adamant
Rejecting every peace plea.
No wonder, no wonder  
We treated kneeled mothers
With a cold shoulder,
In such manner, we gave order
“Do it. Go ahead
**** the feeble, elderly
Even every lacerating mother
In her bed.
Turn the land a river red
With atrocity ‘TPLF made’.”

About money worry
Should we why?
For three decades we ******,
We bled the country dry.
Dollars we dispatched abroad
Stashing-away some in our abode.

Promising African democracy
On par with current Ghana,
We chained some political prisoners
With a hyena—our emblem
In our ill-reputed political game.

Many to subdue,
Out of the framework of law
We brought to life
A score of Guantanamo bay
Where numerous, underground,
Were tortured night and day.

As a junta
When our mind threatened
Us of a conscious pang
On it, we put out our tongue.

We were
A living billboard of a terrorist
But putting on a mask
Many we blacklisted
On the terrorist list
In such a fashion
The myopic—UN, EU
IMF, WB— the offender
For a victim admit.

Massacre, genocide
We committed with great passion
Also exposing our own nation
For a possible invasion.

Odd as it may sound, attacking
The national defense force
In barracks out to keep border
But defeated by a militia &ENDF
We complain attack on our
Ethnic group by a country yonder.

Dealt a devastating blow
Our moral has hit ever time low.

During our heyday
In our state the demonstration
Of **** victims we used to ban
But now reversing the talk
Loud shout we can
To the international community
“Come up with ‘Stop **** spree
In Tigray!’ decree”

While in TPLF’s reign
A single junta did **** girls fifty
But none of us saw that
Uncouth or naughty.
“If accused
Let alone bring him to court
We could see him off to port!”
We said.

What is more
By ENDF after defeat
Before we retreat
Let us release thugs to run amok
And on Tigray’s rebuilding
And stabilization wheels
To insert a spoke.
There is no organization
No nation as UN, EU &US a fool
But who seem cool.
Fabricating lies
We shall prove ourselves
Innocent in their eyes.
Abroad on demonstration square
Shouting for help flat on our back
To dupe the global community
Let us try our luck.

Of course, media outlets
That deserved a high five
Have fallen from grace,
‘cause for want of integrity
Journalism has observably
Made a nosedive.
Unfortunately those
Countries with integrity
Could see through
Our mask
What a bad luck.///

If Walls could talk
Jesus that'd be a scary world
Just imagine,
Would They be judgmental?
Would They be supportive?
Would They be the words of wisdom and a shoulder to cry on?
Would They tell me 'don't say that' or 'you'll regret that later' or 'don't just let her walk out like that.'
Would They be the stabilization I so terribly need? The mother I wish I had, or the sister I desperately want.
Tell me what's right from wrong, how to make my life better and what it is thats ******* up my brain. After all, They do witness everything.
My Walls would know me better than any human could.
They see me at my happiest, hear every conversation I have, witness my constant vulnerability, even when I'm so low that I put holes in that kind plaster and spill my blood for Them to see.
They know all, like a god. The thought of Them having the ability to speak as we do is petrifying. If I could, I would apologize to my Walls. For all the fights and the screaming and the holes and everything they've had to see. I'm so sorry friends, for all the *******.
And I would thank Them for always being there for me, even thought they don't have a choice.
Now if Walls could walk, I know mine would ride the next bus out of town.
No way would They want to deal with my reckless *** any longer.

If I could go.

I wonder if I actually would.
The anticipation that dances through my veins may be confronted with fear when my moment finally appears.

If I could go,
I’d jump.
Expecting to never hit the ground,
Expecting to soar higher than the clouds can float and be lighter than the weight of sound.
Heaven bound.

If I could go. . .
I’d let my heart take the lead of me
Lead me into the jungle of uncertainties.
And use it as my sword cutting through the tyranny of my enemies.
Shielding me with dignity.
Conquering all conspiracies.

If I could go.
I’d hope to take with me every misfortune I’d previously encountered.
Every anchor that I’ve accidentally let drag me into a river of stabilization
And have unwilling empowered.
The morals and blessings that have followed them
And the wisdom of which I was then showered.

If I could go,
You’d catch me running herculean towards my core.
You’d hear my heart pounding ferociously like African drums
Feet banging the concrete like the crackles of thunder.
Breathe rapid and heavy as I move fiercely like a panther through the dark.
Leaving behind only my tracks and my roar.

My desire to be free and sole would burn behind me and linger in the air potently.

If I could go,
If I could go,
If only.

I took the last pill
reserve for this wonderful evening
until I can only feel
the stabilization that heal

as I stare upon the ceiling
I did recall the rhythm
of the hymn that you are singing
before you left me hanging

after you have left me,
I kept on finding
what love is really hiding
yet, I failed to kept on riding

Past keeps on winding
until an idea rewind it
everything I taught was eliminated
because of something that made me haunted

For all the things that I've done
For all the dreams that I have run
For all that I am for now
Because all along, it was only you.

for all this time I thought it was because I love you
But, it is all because I did all along.

so long, my tiger

I'm board
Board out of my mind board
Board as in so board
That I can even saw through my own
Boardom
I'm so board I have to nail myself to
Something else so I'm not board
Board as in board that I paint over
My fatigue and lack of enthusiasm
Board as in obstinate
So obstinate I don't even know what
Death is anymore
It doesn't visit me
There is no gravitational theft here.
Board as in people step on me
To get to something board
Board as in I've been hung under something else for stabilization.
Yeah that's it I'm board

Pour that salt into my mouth
Hang me by my ankles off a bridge

Pour some salt into my mouth
Feed me lies and insects

Pour your salts into my mouth
Don't ask why and continue on

Fill my mouth full of salt
Clean my teeth with alcohol
Make me realize what I've done

Drag your nails across my skin
Dig your thumbs into my eyes
Puncture my ear drums with your best knife
Stimulate yourself
Dress me up and
pour
your
salt
into
my
mouth

Make me feel that I'll never escape
Mechanize me with stabilization
and wash these salts from my throat

In some point of your life,
Which has been pain of your living.
It can be at any point of your life...

A sudden refresh of all yoursef,
Pops up as a regular coincidence.

Suddenly, all the weight of painful
Memories, thoughts, feelings are gone.
As well as potent satistafaction,
Becomes the field of your experience.

You feel like you are returned to
First home of humans, Garden of Eden.
Even you are looking to the
Boringly plains of detesting
White walls of your home
Or in the middle of the tedious lesson.

You feel like you are in the heaven.
Vast skies of azure,
Vast plains of shamrock.
Or the forest of complex Red pine...

Between the leaves a light ball shines.

It feels like a dream,
But concentration to atmosphere is
So high that it is
More factual than a dream.

Purple azure skies,
Candy red sun sets as a single god,
In rainbow of oranges and yellows.

Or you may be in the space,
Gazing thousands of
Little glittering color
In the vast darkness.

A nearby yellow star shines
As well as reveals thousands of
Spheres in vast colors,
Each of them an infinite heaven
With infinite liveliness.

Than you realize that all pain is gone.
You are refreshed, calm, in pleasure
In the highest forms.

Than you also realize that,
All of these is just a dream.
Imagined stuff being creation of you.

Even you attempt to leave
Beacuse of its fakeness,
You find the hardship in leaving.
Because it is the music
You are dying for hearing it.

Know that it doesn't come form
Your cushiony headphones.

Remember, that's the thing
You are striving for.
The complete well being of
All yourself, all your senses!

But the case is
We have big flows of energy
In our complex pathways of
Neural circuits and spiritual fields,
Avoiding the strenght of good
To hold us in good.

Because we laboured ourselves to
Live painful and weak lives
Just sake of survival.
So our brains are more able to
Suffer than satistfy,
More capable to experience and be
Bad rather than good.

What's avoiding this is the
Unconditional stabilization of
The experience of the good.

Owingly,
Even when the whole world is hellish;
You are the shine of the heaven,
Refreshing heights of elegance, content

Than you ask, how to do this.
I say; become that wholly,
Unconditionally,
Without any negative and bad.

If you still ask the same question,
Follow me! Just follow me!
Continuously, unconditionally!
This is all you need.

As the result, you will feel the
Depths of positive flow of love,
Heights of infinite continuous pleasure,
Taste of sweetest sweet without sweet.
In all of your life, unconditionally.
Even when everything is
Going painfully, badly, wrongly.

I call it the nectar!

Perhaps there is more than a rose color lightly dusting our water
Perhaps what nourishes is sub conscious dilemma
More than ******* determination
And perhaps it was meant to be a blinding acrobatic light
Dancing through incendiary reclaimed wood
Like old souls
For whatever that means
Repurposed for sympathy, stabilization, and nothing more

The last thing we see
before we go
is the infinite amounts of love, we felt
as the sun shown
& we were blanketed by snow

Perhaps I fear death as an answer to a problem
I'd rather debate
Perhaps it's a question I never asked
Or perhaps that coddled smoldering I feel is your true perch
Wet jeans
And brittled browned elbows, flapping as feathers
Perhaps you will go free
That is to say lightly, with a delirium’s touch
Perhaps I wish to wash you again
In all the epithets that is friends, family
That made me a man
And made us our mothers worst enemy

The last thing we believe
before we go
is the finite amounts of hate, we felt
as the moon rose
& we were blanketed by hubris
& home

forgiveness
across this nation
NESARA

Saturated porcelain seats covered in undefeated liquids leave an acidic wear to the atmosphere.
Indescribable desires proclaim in an ever-changing disposition,
   The irrelevance of an ever-changing mood.
An uncertain strangeness dwells between my bones causing a one day to the next vagary of actions.
A daily reintroduction of myself to myself,
       like the front line hasn't been brimming over in occult chemical combination.
Inclination of the decline leads a battle of stabilization,
    a pang steams into a medial lunge hunching the body over in disrepair.
Convulsing through the morning,
     the fever heats its casing in a chronic complacency.

“Look over there. It's a place where people used to live. Perhaps as pigs, perchance swapping and selling one another? Look up that street whereat the lights are absent...behind the trees, towards the park, to where love is no ticket to stabilization...”

“Look over there. It's a place where people used to live. Perhaps as pigs, perchance swapping and selling one another? Look up that street whereat the lights are absent...behind the trees, towards the park, to where love is no ticket to stabilization...”

I'll never eat pork chops on Arbor Day again nor wear ******* inside-out. I propose to-the-bone spending cuts in localized govt. or my name's not Bessie Watson. I shall forgo polite discourse as it promises things distant. Perhaps I'll move the way of ***** & woodpeckers @  a sidereal slant? The people must be aligned or there's little hope held for the shiftless. We must pawn our “pawnables” to make way for retail merchandise. The wholesale field is a quag that swamps the ill-tempered. Let us fish in the sea for critters to salt & pickle. Allow the wrecks that are our lives to be pounded & kneaded. The things fine in life are scrapped for trinkets. We force ourselves into sweaters that accentuate nothing—this is not why God made my knobs into *******. It's lips, nips & hips down passed the center. I could paste myself to inner sheathing or give truck to Japan's wayward beauty queens for all the good that'd do.
  Women? What do they know about oil? WE men, with our special arrangements, will secure the world's petroleum reserves and stabilize retail gas at seven dollars per gallon. Stabilization is important especially on imported things, instilled things & things that need to be refrigerated. God mandated that young & beautiful women should find wealthy, old, balding, fat men irresistible.
   “José's no good! He arrived here from Tulsa
with nothing Mexican & took everything you had!”
   Ashlee turned her face from Paco's recriminations. Of course,
every word of it was so true. But still? How could Ashlee Noell
Brittany deny her love for José Taco y Bernardo? It was
impossible, besides, she was carrying his baby!
   The stalls were empty & wet as the men's room was closed
for cleaning. Soon janitors would descend upon it with their
brassy 5/8'' hose nozzles & brushes, mops & squeegees.
   Ashlee carefully bathed her supple, white, unfettered skin. Her knobs & clefts were defiantly pink. “Oh Paco, I mean José,” she whispered, “soon we'll be a family...” The words gave her resolve. “Oh Sanchez, I mean Paco or José,” she sobbed, “our love crosses international boundaries without passport.”