i nevr thought dat i could have a ******
the lips r as soft as velvet
like a kitty
pur bitchezs purr

The ground and I are good friends
We have shared a few encounters
The first encounter was when my Dad went to prepare our mansion in heaven with Angels
I was only seven

The second encounter was when we had to move from our house and town to live with Granny and Pops
My mom's folks
I experienced melancholy
Little did I know that Melancholy signified my fourth encounter with the ground
Pops
He touched me made me roll the rubber down his manhood
He put his ugly cigarette thick fingers in my cookie jar
I was only nine
That wasn't enough
He would wake me up in the middle of the night when everyone is asleep and say Angel let us go watch the stars
I wouldn't say no to watching stars that's my favorite thing to do especially late at night
That's when my Fifth encounter with the ground occurred
Pops told me that if I scream he will ensure that he throws myself and baby sister out
I remembered that we had nowhere to go so I obeyed
The ground and I became one at this point for nine years
I didn't tell moms for I didn't wanna ruin her relationship with her folks
She had business trips all the time to ensure that we have all we need
Pops is dead anyways
The sixth encounter was when moms told me she doesn't trust me
That ripped me into microscopic pieces
Luckily we are now good friends
And the rest of encounters are when my "true loves" chopped my heart into cubes


Oh there is encounter it happened when I found out that I have an extra year  in High School
But now all is well

I'm not afraid to fall
For the ground and I are friends
I always standup even if it takes years sometimes
The fall made me who I am now

two lovers have the daylight withheld
from her room with just enough gray light
sneaking through to illuminate a single silver slice
of two gyrating bodies.

he sees her as a spider
because she sees him like
...a dog

their music reaches a strong ******,
and reaches, and reaches, when...

the light turns on.

the girl's skin falls like a curtain
to reveal the white young skeleton beneath;
roses grow from her bones.

at her absence,
the boy's moan ruptures a layer in his heart and he explodes
but she has disintegrated to his emotion,
his dark abstractions

her body now finds his feet
as a cool stream of water in the summer
as lines of real poetry, sometimes
when he thinks of her.

and her body now finds his head
when he finds himself courting a universe
unresolved, so he leaves for a walk
through the forest one summer day.

there will always be some flowers in some bones in a bed,
there will always be some flowers in some bones in a bed.

it was supposed to be a quiet Sunday,
but the populists were marching
to a funeral, a sombre mood shifted the
populace about like a deflated balloon,
they started talking seriously about
matters of no real meaningful concern -
but since they inhaled all that helium
from the balloon i didn't know whether to
laugh, or cry - but no everyday do you
hear stories about how an ethnic group
gets degraded from the categorisation
of **** sapiens to **** vermis -
page three of the sunday times -
flyers in Cambridgeshire near a school -
fascist propaganda - the real butch
English poultry stamp-of-the-foot in your
face - London? currently? phobic, in general,
ablutophobia (fear of bathing), acrophobia ( " " heights)
anthophobia ( " " flowers), astraphobia ( " " lightning
and thunder), colorphobia ( " " certain colours),
you name it - i'm starting to wonder whether
London didn't just cave-in, became fortress-like
or simply disappear off the map - about 3 London
boroughs joined forces with the Yorkshire
farmers? but i get it, we technically started to re-exist
about 100 years ago, get blamed for not noticing
the Holocaust happening under our noses (Max Kolbe) -
it's this Latin mentality, the areas once conquered
by the Romans retain this ******-up attitude -
the areas not conquered by the Romans, like Scythia
and Scandinavia, Balto-Slavia, Maga Germania have
a weird mentality to how geography is taught
in the western lands... it's usually referred to (this
continent) as Britain, France, Spain, Italy... maybe
Germany... and then the east... i know that Jew is
a negative word by mere phonetics, but Pole isn't
exactly pretty either - polish - i have to elongate
this word oddly enough - say it like: paul-lysh -
don't worry Shlomo, we're on par with this ******* -
not to mention Slav and the missing E - in Poland
these kinds of people are old grannies, the ones
from the tiniest of villages where medicine is still
taboo when they come to urban areas to check out
a tumour the size of a watermelon bulging from
their groin - still the miracle cure of the 'ave maria'
or something - pigeon brain puck puck -
i get it - well, it did end up being a quiet Sunday
afternoon - got so worked up about this malaria of
**** that i went to bed early.

Despite the heart which is froze
Hatred runs fluidly
Like the water in shattered glass
Like the blood in broken bones
Like the flames in our homes    
This hatred
It speaks to me
Like drugs to an addict

When it tells me to shoot
                                         I relapse and
                                       aim for the sky

I said..
In spite of my own humility
Hatred runs deeply
Like the roots beneath the dirt
Like the pain beyond the hurt
Like this poem before your eyes

I despise 
                Way too many lies
                And so little truth  

I said..
I hate beautiful  
It cripples me deeply  
For you are my pity
My pain and their pleasure

When I am high
                           I'll collapse and fall
                        Far from this place
                        Of rotten bliss

I said..
Look at me        
Blood misrepresents me    
For I am cut differently
This pain isn't felt
Like the emptiness
Residing in your cup
It is felt
Like a toxic
Living inside the gut
Like these words
Traveling directly
Towards the stomach

I mean..
             Although this addiction kills me
           Hatred is also the remedy
          It is all I need to truly appreciate
          The little love I have left.

Someone I adored once told me;
You won't see the shadows when you put your face to the sun.
But all i ever thought was;
Who would be there to save the ones in the dark?

-HIY