Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Maggie Emmett Sep 2014
The white bleached corpse of day is fast
- reddened, bloodied -
torn to scarlet shreds of evening
slashed by wild and fiery crimsons.

Light leaching and passing westward
from bridge to bridge
garlands of mist drift up the river

Shadows dart, shelter and linger
blackness creeps and claws
the shades of night

Darkness spills down docks and ditches
fingers through the strands of light
by midnight every dock is still

Moon hangs full, naked and weary
slow stiching silver threads
through tall ships rigging
in the dim and dreary night

A yapping dog disturbs the quiet
more insistent than the stars.


© M.L.Emmett
Response to JW Turner's pictures of the River Thames at sunset
Priya Patel Oct 2015
Its the silent nights
I've come to dread
the silent sewing
of needle and thread
stiching my tearfilled wounds
I am a hero by day
and rag doll by night
torn and falling apart
unable to reach light
I am a cause
that seems to be lost

© Priya Oct 15, 2015
Mike Fashé Jan 2013
I’m far from a convivial thought
Separated by a thin knife
Who would have thought I ****** you tonight?
I poured a cup of red wine
You’re blood is all around me
Here’s a toast
For which I have not to long
I’m contented to your smile on my wall
With your eye ***** nailed to wall
Hey at least you can see around me
It’s funny I can almost hear you calling me.
You failed to keep your voice shut
And I have a love emotion
For sticks and stabs
Mother, what can I do?
Shut up! No more can be said.
I proceed to place her hand on my hand.
I started to peel the ends of her finger tips
Then I started to pin her down like a butterfly
with its wings torn from it.
It’s hard to make out if I saw a tear drop
Or another blood drop.
All I can see is a hollow face
With a hollow emotion
With a hollow glare.
Hey at least smile
As I open her smile widely.
I fear she will escape!
I have nailed her down to the ground
Where everyone can see
I began to ask my people to begin painting, but with no response in return
I’m out of various colors as I told the empty seat.
I only have one red color.
I’m out of paint brushes,
But I have only her bones and hair
Use them.
It’s night time!
I always wonder what was in you head.
I began to cut a thin strip of her head
as I began to stitch it on my forehead.
A jaunt adventure to inside your head shall give me more ideas.
I see a skeleton grave
I’m aware that you’re looking at me
And I shall bring you back
I wanted to abate your body
to save time.
Oh well…I’ll just take to soul
For which is true beauty
As I return to my room
I can still see you’re in the same position from the night I left you.
I see that the red has gone away
And I believe it’s time to play with the clay.
I dislike how you were standing.
I believe if I ripped your arms so
You’d not try to escape.
I’ll blindfold you so you won’t endure my cold bidding of creation.
I must say you look like that justice statue.
There’s no crime here!
I shall not pay for Justice!
Art is what I’m trying to create.
My ambivalence to love you, you my dear was hard because
I hated that you were my art
I regret cutting your face, but it’s too late.
OH GOD! All I can see is disgusting carrion!
WHERE IS THE BEAUTY IN THIS?
I THROUGH MY ARMS AROUND HER
TALK TO ME **** IT! WHAT AM I DOING WRONG
I'M FINALLY FAILING AT MY WORK
SPEAK I COMMAND YOU!!
DO NOT HIDE ANYTHING FROM ME
I BEGAN CUT HER DOWN
CUTTING HER BIT BY BIT
STICHING AND REATACHING HER
CHOPPING HER UP
REMOVING PARTS FROM HER.
AHHH! MY MASTER PIECE IS RUIN!!
I GRAB HER BODY
FOR WHICH IT USELESS NOW.
As I through her aside
I begin to stare at the moon
And wonder where did I go wrong?
Then I spotted the light of the moon
Shinnying down on my creation.
A tear drop finally fell upon me.
All I had to do was just stare at her
Admire her
Endure her beauty
Bath in it
And appreciate it  
Such a simple thing was suppose to be done
Beauty is something simple
Did not require dismembering her.
At last I demonstrated aesthetic values of beauty.
This is one of my earlier poems.... I was 16 or 17 when I wrote this :) enjoy
levi eden r Dec 2018
it all just felt like summer.
not summer when you're older but summer when you're a kid.
for me it was running after the ice cream truck,
playing soccer in the park and when i'd get too hot, i'd pour water on the back of my neck.
it's eating strawberries while watching cartoons with my siblings,
waking up early to go to garage sales with my grandmother.
it's all of these things into one big, great feeling.
it's a ball of of light inside that never stops growing.
these things,
these memories,
i hold onto them so tight,
stiching them to my heart as a guarantee that they'll never go away.
loving you feels like this.
but you surpass all of these things that i hold close.
quicker than a heartbeat,
i'd exchange all of these if it meant that we could stay here,
with each other.
loving you feels like summer.
not summer when you're older but summer when you're a kid.
Gloss to be left out to shimmer up any dim viewing of the world.

natzis stiching up your crookid smile so you can seem perfectly fine in the society we live in.
That homeless lady thats so broken with out pieces to put back togethor.
We say lets have world peace but when it comes down to it we look the other way in disgust,
global warming may be going on; but I'd sure say it's a cold cold world.  
A marvelous fixer upper with potential.
But we all don't live that life,
so for now lets go on with our day driving our car that we worked for or take that bus and remiss the image of the cracked out teen turning in can's..
Can we not face the reality our kids and future generations will continue to stumble.
knowing that it's not going to change? has the world really lost all of it's top dog romodels of peaceful perpouse ? like..
We do only have this life to make a difference and leave an imprint on the world.
And we all can.  
Land of the lost where we can flip burgers and get paid minimum wage and swipe plastic through a robot.
Why did we stop looking to the sky for answers? And now instead we look into a tricking time waster we can't leave the house without.
To give love is to know peace.
to learn love is to make new.
Create better for people who need it. Give with only accepting understanding of you're doing but nothing in return.
Shine strength on a weekining world.
Paul Hardwick Dec 2012
The night santa sack burst, for all my friends and poets
and please remember my life is in your hands.

Santa took off that day as he always did
not noticing the stiching of his sack was loose
casting presents as he went even santa did not see them fall
Boys got dolls
Girls got astro toys

Santa got back after a long night, after the eleve told him, put his hands on his head
and said.        OK man sorry that was my bag man.

Have a fab Christmas all and happy holidays from this man whom is called PAUL  ***
Yasin Aug 2018
Home alone
Nothing left
Overdrawn
Dumping lawn
Itching
Like a stiching dorn
Nothing to seal
Up till dawn
Not to yawn
But to feel
Newly born
Feelings while staying awake at night
amanda Aug 2018
dear grandma,

i could not fit into my jeans, yesterday. the new ones with a rip in the knee and stiching on the pocket. it's been a year and my waist has grown another inch and grandma, i got scared. i got so scared i broke one of my rules and looked at the old photographs. yes, the ones i promised i wouldn't look at but grandma, listen to me. i was a wisp of a person. my frame was like a fading memory, the kind that you know won't hold on for long before it falls away. i saw a picture of myself like that. and grandma, i cried. but not because it was sad. i cried because i want to be that fading memory of a person again. hell, i cried because i was prettier, then. i cried because i am not hungry anymore. i cried because my cheeks are full and my thighs graze when i walk. grandma, i cried because i lost the only part of me that i loved.
Jonny Angel May 2014
Currently,
I'm stiching a whole human body suit
with a real wig attached
along with some fake mohair
& who cares if it looks good,
it gives me a rush
only a ******
would understand.
Trying my hand at something morbid.....creepy movie,
"The Silence of The Lamb"
Heliza Rose Dec 2016
And it seems like at two a.m
Heartbreaks are the loudest
Because the humming of people has died down
The city is asleep and you're finally alone

But beyond this shattering that you hear
There is a silence in between where threads find your cracks and pull gently to begin Stiching
But you know darling handmade takes the lonegst
Krish R Sep 2019
I am wide awake..
Seeing.. your thorn floor.
Failing.. To dance for your tunes.

I am wide awake..
Staring at bottomless pit.
Crashing dreams.. Fading.

I am wide awake..
Thinking.. Not your superman.
Build your castle on the moon.

I am wide awake.. at midnight.
Stiching.. My broken heart.
Staring at invisible light.
Anya May 2018
Back again I was, it seems
Stepping through my garden of dreams
Feeling grass caress bare feet
Dancing through the blossoms sweet
Climbing tree and touching sky
Mourning wilted flow'rs to die
Hanging in the night the stars
Catching sun in sea-glass jars
Armed with free will, armed with *****
Digging weeds the fields forbade
Poisoning my garden fair
Souring the soil and air
Becoming then my flower's foe
Thought I, their place here is not so.

And, sinking knees into rich Earth,
And golden sunlight filled with mirth,
With *****, I did begin my task
And bitterness wih laughter mask
Silver metal touching fern,
My hands the soil did upturn,
And, tendrils curling, leaves apeel,
My tool the rivals dire reveal,

One leaféd foe remained entrenched
With fearful glare and rancid stench
So tall and straight with dreadful leer
His shadow clouded dark with fear
Malignant eyes with clear intent
To push my flowers broke and bent
And seemed it he could even draw
My breath from slack, loose-hanging jaw
When he then spoke, from op'ning torn
Each word a deadly sharpened thorn

Prepared was I to plead and flee
When quiet whispers spoke to me
And I looked down, when I did heed
To see, as clear as day, a ****!
Of coiling shape and lily glow
A-cheering to take on my foe
And, studying her roots spread wild,
Knew she'd grown when I was a child
And planted by unsready hands
Had grown to counter his commands
Had been fed friendship, watered trust,
Matured away from lies and lust,
Bound strong with laughter, stories, tears
A mindset wise beyond her years
And, spouting golden, crystal-bright,
Had rose to aid me on this night
And now was swaying at my side
While casting light a circle wide.
And she did gaily laugh and wink
So that my foe would backwards sink
And cry, in voice both kind and clear,
"Rot, burden, you have no place here."

And, snapping forwarrd with ghastly groans,
And rattling shrieks amongst loud moans,
At once dissolved his stature tall
As ***** pierced leaves and watched him fall
Out faded terror, fear, and war,
Until my foe became no more.

And when I chanced to scan the space,
The **** was bobbing in her place,
Sweetening spring-summer air,
Guarding flowers small with care,
Long I stood regarding there
If I would ever dream or dare
To ignore danger, do no less
Than guard my **** in peril -- yes.

Carefully, my heel did turn
Across the wheat-fields orange burn
Set fire by the sinking sun
And clouds like rabbits tinted run
The crickets in the reeds did hum
When I set down to ponder some
On values trust and friendship set
And whether one chanced to forget
That love, in its true form divine
Could only birth in comrades fine
And when I rose to onwards roam,
I knew her light would guide me home.

Here I am again, it seems,
Wand'ring through my garden of dreams,
Shaping paths of glassy streams,
Stiching Sky and Earth's frayed seams
Fast'ning buds on newborn trees
Weaving music in the breeze
Oft proclaiming, as the winds flow free
How very dear you are to me
And thankful, as the planets shine
That you have stayed in garden mine.
Avestani Mar 2019
Gratitude to the ones who taught me
Many thanks to the powers above
So long I've dabbled with the ones below
So long I've searched for the one who knows me

Physical inventions cause me to not mention the motive the reason the world I believe in
The here and the now
The land left unseen
Bridging the gap to say what I mean
To say what I've seen
To tell you a story that sounds like a dream
Knowing the voices in my head are fiends
Saving myself by silencing screams
Saving myself by killing what's me

Tell no one the things you know
Speak violence and mayhem and slaughter, despair
Burning your heart out and living in fear
Drowning that fear in the anger and lust
You cannot help but search blindly for trust.
Guidance is light but you were born blind
Searching for secrets and seeking divines
Hang from your noose that you've woven from vines
I cannot save you, your life is not mine

Lost in the chaos, I've guided myself
Only when my tongue is bleeding do these words my soul reflect, **** this life give me what's next, **** this life give me what's next
Lost in the chaos I've guided myself
Only when my tongue is bleeding do these words my soul reflect, **** this life give me what's next, **** this life give me what's next

Fill my tender heart with sin and bring my ego swift to death cut me down, relentless beating, strangle me then break my neck, **** my soul raw, fracture my jaw, tell me what I should expect, crack the system, mysticism, fortune favors those who bet

Suffocate my demons, clarify my reasons, say what you belive in, say you love the feeling, These words are revealing, no more double dealing, breaking through my ceiling, lacking human reason, never cared for kneeling, cycles are repeating, suffucate my demons, prove that I don't need em, prove that I don't need em, prove that I don't need em

Stop

Criss crossing the fabric
Stiching my woes
Grabbing at pieces
Now where do I go
You say there's a thesis
A method to insane
I say that I need it
You say I'll explain
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2020
somehow drunk on language: a jazz impromptu...
nothing is ever to be orchestrated
or read from a script...
    
               and drinking besides...
               a manifesto on the sly?
               i hardly think: or rather:
               i hardly want to...
               compose one...

but i am sure to find some freedom... it's not
that much... it will do: working from the confines
of a dickensian paragraph is all the rage:
of all - but not these days, to be exact...

crumbs from the table of "muse"...
   it's a low-hanging fruit...
   something of the sort of worth than can only
   be worth: merely passing the time...
    by the mortal "adventure" circuit of events...
   this is me: not being present when
   beer, or flour... or ketchup...
   or mayonnaise... or the method of frying
   using oil... or poaching an egg...
   or the litany of respective spices
   being used in a curry...
  something grand... the moderns and their:
darwinistic slyly sliding into every narrative:
ideologues of darwinism...
who are they?
the history of man...
a back and forth:
starting with / from today...
   all the way back to... primodial times...
hunters: we were...
gatherers: we were...
foragers: oh for ****'s sake: WE WOZ!

i'm tired of the monkey veil...
               at least under the iron curtain...
something of freedom trickled through
the sieve, the cracks...
      where to? given this silicon curtain:
freedom on... zee fekkin mond?
apparently very little "history" happened:
or has had to happen...

there's only now: the 20th century...
   and then... nibbles of the 19th century's zenith
of... thomas ddison and george westinghouse,
alexander bell...
       but prior to all that...
the 19th century inventors and pioneers...
the 20th century pop culture...
all those ignorant ***** prior to the grand: "US"...

when darwinism: which is an ideology...
goes beyond biology... and... like leftism...
like communism... spreads its tentackles
into all things unattached with it...
i can hardly see a consolidation argument:
an omnipresent "needle work thread-through"...
am i in denial or do i simply think that
darwinism has robbed history of time...
as a linear motivation for moving forward:
by a poppy seed's volume per year...
on one's knees: up to climb mt. megiddo?

i am pretty sure darwinism...
        doesn't have the capacity to dictate
a branch of history that stresses its presence
via etymology -
how... the word cool: is currently out
of vogue... and in decline...
               back to the reality of:
having a cold beer...
           which is cool... because a room temp.
beer is... choice:
bad-manners... crass... puke-juice...
and some others i'm tired to conjure...

  but this jumping from: primodial man:
to the current, modern man...
and leaving no traces for the middle-men...
a philip augustus of france: the capetian...
      
     pompeii: circa 70ad...
                 sometimes the gods would visit...
hermes trismegistus...
       because it was: so...
                   then again:
the darwinistic historogical reflections are
a bit like saying: we've been hoarding...
there's no brain without a fever to store all
the past claims of vanity...
but a complete whitewash...
a blank slate... to work with barely nothing...
and to dress it up to...
the language and fashionable attire...

    it's like jumping from the big bang:
a lot of banging happens in a vacuum...
              oh yeah... you can hear a needle drop
in a vacuum of space...
what a name: genesis: big bang...
big hole bang black: is the way forward...
let's breed us a middle-ground of
the copper / cinnamon royalty...
                     i start from the north...
you start from the south...
we're bound to create a new equation
for where the equator should be...
on the 23.5°N line...
that story: all out of africa...
                    who brought the albinos?!
but do you come across a copper cinnamon
people quickly?
   it's mongrel of... black words on white paper...
there's even a name for it... tropical:
and cancerous...
    because you were never to witness...
what happens...
when there's a first investment in mixed-race
coupling...
   come the second generation and the bleaching
is continued:
               there pops up a curiosity:
like afghani blue eyes...
              
perfectly matched-up insomniac journalism
and darwinistic historiology...
   oh: everything that came prior...
insignificant...
  but i am sure i wasn't there... when...
flour first came into "being" and when eggs
were first harvested for the mass production
of cakes... and when there came about
a domestication of a mountain goat...
or how the cow decided: two stomachs best...
and a... digestion process that...
well: it's pretty much an imitation
of that of a fly... which is why: let man conjure
up elves, orcs... and let the gods mind
conjuring up: elephants and... sloths...
and... the man who invested in trans-genderism:
consciously ingested a tapeworm embryo...
to feel: what a "foetus" would feel like...
what is the tapeworm... if not the placenta
without a mouth?
                      
    islam and hair... though...
               is hair all, that?
                   what about: the manic pixie haircut...
tomboyish... slanting almost shredded
in look...
                  what about:
a fly in a champagne flute...
    or... there's a hair in my soup!
       i know that some people react to hair...
in soups... with... a... 'get it away from me!
poltergeist! poltergeist!'
          hair... long hair... does it have
to be about hair?
   i don't seem to be lacking in this grace...
                               but a perfect skin...
   oh sure... said the bearded-lady...
or the french: au naturel propagators...
   but why is fair such a must: must... fancy?
was there this 6th century affair for bad
teeth as there might have been for...
greasy wigs?
            
                        now wouldn't wearing
a hat like a hebrew might wear a kippah...
notably in those 1950s movies...
    and prior... to have to be always attired
with some headgear...
                and... the trousers whereby...
they reached up... to the mid-torso...
     and would never be... worn like today...
under the bellybutton...
  
   hair... hair in my soup = there's a fly in my
champagne flute...
   i'd probably gag less at the fly...
     spawn of the disinfecting maggot brains
that would sooner feed on dead-flesh
than...

   maggot bullets for every zombie apocalypse...
a maggot bazooka...
maggots grown as g.m. crops...
fused with... piranha d.n.a. branches so that...
they could bite exponentially: quicker...
like jigsaws for jaws: or
                   super-slurper-vacuum openings...

this menacing: over-arching... shadow of time...
if there's no past worth to remember:
or its picked-and-mixed like penny sheets
or like extracts from the goodbook
for the apologists...
                                        but talk about...
the time it takes to boil a litre of water...
and the time it takes to... produce a bottle of wine...
jumping down from a tree:
huddling in a cave...
coming from the ***-side of Versailles...
then moving into... a communist concrete
chicken-shack...

                 and now:
journalistic-insomnia...
                                and... the forgotten fire
with exception to the candle:
               U.V. and poltergeists of neon...
always to be given... reiterations of reality...
while also... attempting to digest...
a thinning ice of fiction: narrations per se...
      
      i call for the federation of niqabs
and foreskins...
              at least a ******* is that sort veil:
that veils the least...
there are those ***** hairs
i call a beard...
and come: the story of the moon...
and there's artificial lightning:
i can actually compete with mel gibson's
"gibbon"...

            otherwise for me: the niqab of the soul...
or: why is he so: "ouch-tistic" rummaging
with his schizoid eyes:
averting the look of what's become:
the mini-skirt: perpetuated *****...
if only i had lived to have lived:
an aborted foetus...

    thank god for bulgarian prostitutes!
than god for bulgarian prostitutes!
a whole lot of them that just want
to ****!
the double-twist of: there's a ******
tux for every uncircumcised male: waiting...
liberal socialist democracy has:
zilch on the matter...

i'm still more bothered about how
darwinism made its plug-hole manoeuvre...
an apple a day: keeps the doctor away...
a poem a day: keeps the psychiatrist at bay...
for such advances in medicine and science:
that these branches still allow
sadists armed with pharmacological weapons:
calling the brain a... chemical soup...
i am not that much half-... Brian ist tod...
but i'm also hardly the
cucumber schumacher...
                 when skiing: just because:
and the snow forcaste is like what?
a burning tire exercise?!

                    if i was truly angry: i wouldn't be writing...
to invest in a boxing duvet wrapped up
in clingfilm... not my thing...
i like to see anger... evaporate at my fingertips:
rather than clenched into a fist
for a knuckle arithmetic...

how can i become: silly / angry about
english girls groomed and gang-***** by pakistani
men...
   remember: i'm the abortion that didn't
happen that somehow wrote this:
i wouldn't be touched: or ****** or...
                    all because: this one time...
at band-camp... there was a girlfriend and i
should have known better...
and for all i know: roulette and blackjack...
and if not mine...
then his... and that's 5 children squeezed
out from her ****: when i would have
advised for a caesarean section because:
a toddler's head would not be anything:
quiet close to... my ***** envy of...
a 12" **** of a roach...
and a kim kardashian ***...
which would be necessary...
                   to... wade through all that
gelatin bubbling and trembling!

my ideas concerning homosexual ***:
thank you, the kiss was great
is the gaybar...
but... i am confined to...
enjoy taking a ****...
esp. diarrhea consistency type:
i sometimes catch myself with an onomatopoeia
of a groan...
    something is always supposed
to come out... rather than in...

i'm still not angry... if i weren't an abortion...
then i'm expected to be...
eyes-darting autistic...
hardly able to read into
a physiognomy...
   i must be: unable to: interpret a smile...
i am drying up on finding new music...
so i must be outside the compensation
parameters of an "in-crowd"...

                i have to... most probably...
start working a genesis with a niqab...
or i have to make donning sunglasses
mandatory for men...
like... oh god: don't invite stiching
the eyes shut and the cenobite Butterbite...
what's a butterbite?
a butterbite mistakes oral *** performed
on a ******* for an oyster...
sooner: rather than later...
the **** becomes the oyster...
the oyster becomes a tulip...
the tulip becomes a slab of butter!

because: we're expert at this...
schumacher is still a ******* cucumber...
and it's not like, death:
this instant... a tweet...
or a telegraph...
it's a bureaucratic "backwards and forwards"...
watching paint dry...
or catching a snail on the nod...
an itching spider without a web:
a very abled... sportartenspinne-mann...
     spandex galore: clue?

hell... i was thinking about...
how more agile:
when darwinistic ideology would come
to ruffle the feathers and sieve...
and what became of existnetialism...
headaches and minor indigestion faults
from the 19th century: Denmark
would: or could become more apparent...
ruffle the feathers...
pluck them from a chicken...
poach it for a soup...
       perhaps roast another one...
skin the pig and cure and later
curate the skin that would become
a leather for a belt...
                
   darwinism and historiology...
heidegger might have summoned the term...
but he wasn't "battling" with english:
islander-thinking...
           "solipsism"... or for that grandiosity
of: the great h'america:
our best kept: interlude...
constantly revived: beside the confines
of Idaho...

          and the modern "question"
of islamic religiosity...
i call the same...
the mind is less obviously tinged
with... markers...
akin to... isoprene and atomic chlorine...
after chernobyll:
why was liquid iodine prescribed
to pregnant women?
markers: like dyes...
  to invigorate the "sedation"
of... an otherwise invisible reaction taking
root: or place...

islamic religiosity is...
very much akin to darwinistic historiology...
the study of history via monkey-dough
and brains and somehow also the ****:
the building block of aztecian flat-top
pyramids...
                islamic religiosity is...
the 17th century looking at 21st century...
darwinistic historiology is...
the 21st century...
looking at totem and the primodial man...
encompassing him in the present...
the 2nd through to the 18th century
are a bit of an amnesia...
better call it a lobotomy...

               there's knitting! there's picking!
there's the apologetics...
history taught from the perspective of darwinism:
is very much akin to history:
taught from the perspective of communism...
i'm sorry: one ape one world...
i do see the fullness... from the perspective
of a microscope... that becomes
the bottle-stump... once i'm finished with it!
having drank my fill!

to romance the vampire is to also
romance h.i.v.
                how does darwinism fare against
the backdrop of: orthodox: strict...
since there is no true darwinism in nature:
and nature: vetos... whatever are the opinions
of the ideologues:
the sieve... the harvest... and the discarded...

there's always an alternative:
etymological... in that...
prior to the written word...
there was the reasoining abounding in...
what came thirst:
the "d" of Δ... or the Δ: a triangle?
               can a sound akin to "d":
occupy... a sound... geometric tool for
exploring... O... omicron...
what came first? "o" and oh...
the phonetic encoding: O...
OΔ...
                      just a suppose...
                                  
   what letters: from greek... could have been
borrowed from the natural world?
O: moon and sun...
         Δ: the mountain...
                 β - a ***** and an ***...
          ζ and ξ - a serpent...
               ι: the fraction stick... and arithmetic
counter to a • or an apostrophe '''''''''''
                waves of omega and the mu(se)...
   prior to the key and the lock and
a door: φ (key inserted)...
              θ (key turned)...
            ψ (door opened)...
           i.e. Ug (Yγ): a tree...
                         applied to the key and door?
it's not a hammer... there's no nail...
                      eta (H): rugby goalposts...
    
etymology doesn't suffice...
      the words will become morphed...
the letters are a priori...
   as numbers are...
but... whereas numbers remain intact
within the confines of a priori:
letters take on a posteriori meanings...
notsably eta (H): the rugby goalposts...
or the "vector":  (φ, θ, ψ)...
rho implies: an amputee sysiphus...
but rho is a P... hence...
the lost thrill of a R put against
the wall: and shot to a trill!
a rattlesnake ramble! mein gott!
what loss: in english and tarantula
numbed! i walked down a road:
that almost became: woad;
sly little *******...
give me a universal language...
and i'm pretty sure that it will not
be one... with a skeleton of ancient
roman to master and craft with!
donkers... plump plums in "origin"...
a Baghdad...

since the full mechanisation of the key
and lock are not represented:
but rather: insinuated...
                        
                        but there is a door...
imagine, to boot...
that there's, also, somehow...
a necessity of a doormat!

- because in vestern europa: it's about time for:
"zee... pudding-reis-poodle-tops!"
much easier laughing at german
with some "vikings" in tow...

i just abhor how darwinism has become
the neu-ego of history: "abided" by...
like... this be the zenith and 100 years
from now... people will not laugh...
or... i much prefer: scold and frown at...
because i much prefer to be baptißed
using boiling...
         using water... that might allow
me to escape... the confines
of a couch: the comforts of a skin...
and all matter of leather: thus concerning...

i am happy to allow myself the following
sentence: the rats and the moon will always
tell the better "story"...
  liberal hard-ons that are hardly quantified
as matchsticks...

you're looking for communits in your current
"conundrum"...
looking for "them" leeching and lurking
from beneath the eisenvorhang?!
          ostenberlin?!
                       i had the impression...
that... your comforts... your dickens...
your semi-detached bogus heavens...
and that's what was required...
for you... to breed your own...
without having to...
outsource the idealists:
                     your... 'aggis neeps and tatties:
roots of "origins"...
you have your own sort of communists...
mostly t-shirt print enterprises...
and... whatever...
looking for communist from under
the iron curtain...
is about like scounting for both
rats and cockroaches...
and a honing idea of the hive...
because rats wouldn't eat roaches
and the two could, somehow...
fashion of symbiotic vogue affair...

you know what ****** me off...
the most... about not being english...
leverage of pompous audacity to state
the most: infantile opinion...
worded: i know:
you cough... i sneeze...
we'll reach an equilibrium, at some point:
to make references to:
and a past...

precedence: to "think" is to:
th(ought i)... and all that's counter-productive of
"i labyrinth" and: thought and i...
or... scalpel: nurse!
grammar! genius! ******* rollerskating chimpmucks...
and... h. p. lovecraftian odes to...
squids... in less than the already:
"murky" waters of... perfect the... widespread
genius of comedy...
via... ridicule... via... bulimia...
via... cooking a steak: well-done...
over-cooking pasta:
the diet of al dente...
                             burning a mushroom:
not being to: not being able to:
and that: to Baghdad... from Loon'don...
                  virtue signalling:
a clap is... 1/100 of a fraction of...
someone... being deaf and having to resolve
the matter: sign-language about to be translated
into... braille!

the islamic religiosity of "today" is about as
mcuh equivalent as the "today":
under darwinistic historiology...

looking for communists from under the once
former iron curtain divide?
good luck: i'm wishing it unto myself:
about to find Mongols in... Kiev!

came across some burden of a sourdough:
and it's like in england:
it's "theirs": never the agony of eating...
a bread... designated to be toasted...
when it just had to be... eaten... "raw"...

what's the fan-base for raw herrings...
within the confines of Nippon...
or these... grandeours of the:
only isles... my ideas to make
metaphors of the crucifix?
a ******'s riddle...

we're looking for communist: y'all!
i'm looking for Belze...
                  and: mādégehirn-verrotten
         und rätsel: ungezieferfreude...
zylinderanziehen: der großartig:
     schwule -            
der: scrumptious...
                                               fladenbrotmann!
bessermann: das englisch...
                   herr portillo... chuckles should
it come to:
   steam-trains and replicas...
and politics: was never really...
about harems and hard-ons...
                                       really?
ask a Baghdadi then: if you pleaz...
Lawrence!

chance of me being spoken to in russian...
and being: reciprocate...
are all yours: slim jim!
  no... seriously...
a ***** of a language that is...
english: i am... most astounded that...
there are some peoples of this world
that have not: yet... allowed themselves
to translate this:
bellybutton orientation of the world
via genus: greenwichus...
to be: unifying versed: et al.

        i must bees the retardedwoz... kin:
and oops some year later...
or: to hell with keeping up...
anything beside the appearing so...
i:  "for the love of the countrymen"...
of which i have none:
are 9 my commuter friends:
and with the romanians...
and the bulagrian ******...
the polish plumbers...
the english... could have their catwalk
of opinions!
who skinned the chickens
and who did what: my shadow lacked
or i slacked over with?

i want to forget because
i just don't want to unravel in...
i would work an honest's day... of worth...
if i could work for a: get together...
or none...
             it's so disorientating...
and... lacking in motivational bravado...
to have to find one man: working...
and the other: *******!

   talk about... having to resort to mind:
the manners to count jack'oh the ol' keeper...
because: abortion signification is
burning a foot in the sole
of my shoe...
and i'm about to make do with
walking a ******* mile...

               and there i was... conjuring
the fetish fancy:
all it would ever take...
was to pretend to... attire oneself /
i.e. make pretences of: pweeety pretty!
i like being governed by:
you have to be wrong...
for the mushroom and tapeworm
and the cuckoldry muppets to be: oinking:
and with a nodding:
the holy approval as: no other route...
other than them being "white".... Rrrrrrridle
no?
                     no -ight then!
Lunar Roses Apr 2021
Wrapping around my mind
Intoxicating my soul
A golden string stiching my heart back together

The gems clinking
Glimmering
The yarn shining
brightly
The little buttons
Waiting to be pulled

The past has entered the present, holding a ball of yarn

A ball of hope...

— The End —