A spiked and oily chlorophyll kiss of triumph for a natural blend of scraping feet and gutter rat gnawing rooted in hardened concrete arteries of sensible suffocation under shadowed sun that tears like dew or cracked asphalt in a breakthrough of natural reflection within a stained layer of dirt distinguished from filth by a spark of color that screams at pedestrian populations passing the chance to marvel at the growth of feeling like a freak in primal ecstasy without constraints or complaints in sensual squeezes that rise up into a paved path living memorial to what exists beneath the foot and above the fool scraping in time to his cemetery waltz ….
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 9:39 AM UTC
Before the Dawn Of Agriculture men like ME where slapped into the shadow of ****** shame but now who needs muscles or chiseled chins, great size or strength, a lover’s passion or a manly countenance ‘cause for ten thousandyears now I can persecute any female for infidelity towards ME and hold paternity privilege over MY biological children because we exceptional farmers invented marriage to destroy human sexuality by enslaving women with MY property for *** so I no longer need to share or compete or settle for an alpha males’ sloppy seconds within foraging groups that are forced to share what they carry with them instead of our enforced legal couplings that takes the innocent, primal pleasure and mystery out of *** by connectingshtooping to birth thanks to dirt MY dirt MY very own thousand acres of seeded soil littered with pens full of MY trapped sheep, cattle, goats and pigs which means I can pork any female I fancy and destroy any man who thwarts MY desire as simply as the bulls I castrate into submission to easily herd into MY slaughterhouses that feed all the inferior people no longerdependent on their hunting and gathering skills but on ME to stay alive so not only am I not considered a sociopath by hoarding food but am praised at harvest time like a ********* Babe Ruth hero because I have legally claimed and legally ***** those precious few life giving inches of topsoil with rotating crops and extended grasslands that exhausts and shrinks the earth, MY earth MY reign of forcing agricultural workers to bend over in the fields, stupidly exposing hairless backs to sun poisoning instead of their protective hunters’ heads of hair harvesting MY food that shrinks the testicles of everyone who is forced to feed on the cheap calories of MY industrialized plants and animals that lowers fertility, but who needs big ***** anymore when you don’t have to **** larger animals in order to survive or attract females with your superior physical attributes proving I am the social parasite Sultan of Swat who grows fat on the food I’ve seized by stealingPaleo land in the name of government protected ownership.
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 8:43 AM UTC
No, no, Baby, I love you, adore you, love you, worship you, not as a jealous obsessive, but as a romantic who misses you so much that when you sleep, and your velvet voice is silent except for light snores and occasional pseudo-sexual groans from dreams that I know are about me, I feel compelled with passion to go through your phone and read your texts not because I fear you are cheating on me, or interested in other men, but simply because I ache for the beautiful words that flow from your mouth, words of love, desire and heartfelt denials of infidelity that cause me to enter a cyber lust to see and feel the sweet language your electromagnetic waves echo out into that mysterious void, to recipients other than myself, in soft disembodied language that so easily light up a cellphone or tablet in imitation of how they light up my aching soul, no no Baby, I’m not spying on you, or stalking you like some suspicious cyber creep, I love you, truly love you, and am not an insecure untrusting possessive overweight wanna be alpha male droning on about how grateful you should be that someone like me has allowed you to reside not only within his deepest, purest feelings, but also rent free within the loveliest duplex apartment on this Upper East Side of Paradise because I genuinely and honestly love and trust you Baby….
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 8:37 AM UTC
8836 Blvd. E.(Apt. 3K) W.N.Y.,N.J.07093
March 24, 2017
OCCUPANT of Apt. 2K
8836 Blvd. E.
W.New York,NJ 07093
Dear Neighbor:
Just because I HAVEN'T(any) APPROPRIATE TIME to speak ****** to you, therefore I took the liberty to write directly to you in the hope that you'll be kind enough to take into consideration the following request:
Consequently, if you permit me, I'll ask you(right now), as follows:
Did you(ever) anything hear considering someone, or(did you)see) somebody who was looking for me(in front of(my) Apt. 3K, (in the hall) in connection with any message, news, or information) in the past days, weeks, or during the last months, or within the past several years,(somehow, somewhere in the building), ANY TIME?
Thank you for your very kind attitude toward the matter.
In expectation of your reply IN WRITING EXCLUSIVELY in the near future, I remain,
Sincerely,
(Q. Shabraya)
p.s. :
I would not want to create the impression that you'll not do me a favor that I just requested.
If you're interested regarding our ORAL CONVERSATION AT YOUR AND MY EARLIEST CONVENIENCE, if that is the case, I'll be glad to talk to you as one gentleman to another, to exchange our views, to discuss about subject that you and I wish.
Your(eventual) any FRIENDLY remark, CONSTRUCTIVE objection, LOGICAL observation, RATIONAL comment, etc., WELCOME!
It's not only an APPROPRIATE, BUT HIGHLY DESIRABLE
Thanks, again.
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 8:34 AM UTC
BUZZED
(for Pierre Huyghe)
It takes 100,000 buzzing vomits
to create one pound of honey
inside my head
Our moisture will evaporate
as my nectar
converts into your honey
A foraged energy source of
sweet offerings you ingest
to thicken into honey
Creating within me
the cells that seal
my honeycomb
for later consumption.
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 8:24 AM UTC
“Mysterious Waters of the Naked and Nervous”
She begins her life
along with nine-thousand seven hundred fourteen siblings
in the shallowest part of the pond,
just four days after being laid as a jelly egg
attached to a fern leaf bent over humid water.
On day seven she sallies to neighboring weeds
using a very circular route
quietly clings to **** watches with terror
as brothers and sisters are attacked
by sharp beaked birds
swooping down to chew helpless tadpoles,
devouring membranes that cover their gills and necks.
One of few tadpoles to survive to day ten.
officially becomes a tiny pitch black pollywog
with continuously wiggling tail and small round mouth
of ***** jaws that scrapes across tiny plants,
searching for something to eat.
She greedily swallows microscopic animals
found inside pond bottom ooze
and slime which clings to pond’s surface.
Devouring a particularly tasty ooze meal,
she is horrified to witness
tadpole brothers and sisters eating each other,
siblings extending their bellies
by swallowing extended family.
Mostly tail with fine stippling of gold,
within twenty-four hours she breathes
from two gills at each side of her throat
as hind legs suddenly sprout
rounded buds that soon turn into toes
amazing her how fast she can propel
away from murderous dive bombing birds of color.
She first demonstrates courage
by a successful attack of black fish that menaces her for hours.,
******* on its fish fins until they are ragged,
not in anger or self-defense
more for tasty algae trapped within them.
But it does feel good to be able to destroy instead of being destroyed.
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 8:22 AM UTC
“SCREAMING MIME”
I should speak out when they abuse
This pasty-faced artist who decided to choose
Being trapped in silence with make up queer
I may not speak, but I can hear.
The taunts, the insults, and the hate
Towards street performers who refuse the bait
Of ridiculed anger through ****** gestures
Believing performance is a continuing semester
Of learning to grow within painted smile
Ignore the ******** concentrate on the child.
Who laughs with joy or open-mouthed wonder
Yet tosses no coins as my stomach thunders
Breaking the silence, begging for bread
My intestinal rumblings plead to be fed
A steady diet of human compassion
Through the clinking of coins in an appreciative reaction
To my ancient art and enduring hunger
Selling myself like a common whoremonger
Hoping to satisfy an insatiable crowd
In tight fitting Spandex, a seductive shroud
Ignoring lewd sneers at my exposed anatomy
That I've twisted and stretched in hopes it would flatter me
As my muscles contort and my body sings
A silent song that once entertained kings
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 8:19 AM UTC