Trying isn't always good enough
Certainly when the brains overcooked

Like a **** boil of
Germinated potatoes
Washed and lashed out
Into the *******

Spinelessness is apartage
Of the most indecent sliced bits
And wherein some might where an apron
And some gloves

But when the bitter cold of the guru
Capitulates it's heir to the golden loom
Nothing can be stolen

Poonanny I say to them
Amen Lord

Injunction for unnecessary
Stability
Prespiring beneath island sun

When will our day come?
When will our day come?

When the cornering of
The Caucasian
Is a rug of anomalies
(Metaphorically speaking)

And all microphones are
Megaphones
Tussling with that age old
Slave whistle

They took over the music industry
With enpasse
And Ruled the other side as much as
Underside
Without a true leader

To precure perfection
One must have had a life
Of preparation

And still then
One always doubts themselves

Like a flannel tossed to the side of
The bathroom.

There's is a disease like a nut shelling
Cracked and nutritious looking
But really useless.

And Battenburg cake won't help our descriptions
Of them,
Even if they're old.

Poonanny lord

Cloud 9
Disposing or my disposition
Can do it
Like a pair of marracers
Held by both their cheapest
And most expensive lovers
Following you around.

signed Amy Elizabeth Stares
Amen God

Preemptive askance the a(l(u)minationcrashed under deceived by craukflakes o'clock

An opportunity tunes into
You
If you relay information intuitively
And go with the the flow

Indecision will be common
But as long as you
Listen to your conscience
Occasionally

Then the rivers of
Fortune will flow.

The music sounded
like a chorus of anti Christmas tunes

Boggling the squashed fly
On the window sill
From an instant of thrill
To ironic rot

But one cannot be racist
Against flies
For the make food
An analysis
Which people
Would hate coming from a fly

Along with a synopsis
Of culture.


But there's no need to be racist to
A fly

They're actually very emotionally sensitive
As in, you can tell they have autism
In the way that they stim with their legs

Or arms rather
If you're not being racist to the fly

When you come
to the end
of the road

there's always a frustration
that whimpers stoically
about refreshment

blazing with it's *****
Of entirety
like a telephone off the hook

a shutdown system
where status doesn't matter

Abent in my mind
i have the eye shakes again.
where
everything seems to be
unequivacely  straight
along the streetless roads

or hidden in the back of my retina

a succour of colour there
to defend the maritime marathon
of eager sprinting to the sightless
bat

before the noise of what you don't even know what you will perceive
drives  me to madness


and the frontier platoon
guess at
well i'm just a blind girl
why would I tell them?

Amen african Gods
p.s **** Nigeria,
Zimbabwe

and just africa in general
AMEN.

They say you should reach out for help
but what if when you tell others
they become unreachable?

In the mysteries of supermarkets
where it's not clear
exactly where certain things are

one turns to the more
sophisticated
either asking for assistance

Or simply visiting a library instead.

The descent was nothing but a dent then
interrupted by the escalators that function
so wildly

as relatives that don't look like relatives
amble on by.

To be a dew drop
would be nothing like
being the ocean

it wasn't ever meant to be
personified that way

more like the sound of relief
and the unknown
because you never know what is coming
at the time of the morning
at which dew drops appear.

'vertisments force us to underwhelm
the diagnosis
that pertrevies la honourisms
of a steak
stuck in the cows belly

i've had aan idea
ad it doesn't involve people
paciing to and fro like pupateers
hogging the lmelight (or the funds)
no questioning of this idea
or any of my others

for they are applicable to the first paragraph
of this poem
which clearly states a level of genius AND cultural awareness if not spirituality that cannot be denied.

Per se.

Signals of disappearance
from her cruel stares
at God

But first
the enervation
of animals laid to waste
by their own instincts


you can chew on your food
even choke on it
but it'll never be a solar flare
for all the other
things
you associate with it.

The distortion makes for piece by piece
offence to the watercolour stained memories
that just couldn't quite make it through
to consciousness.
But not entirely wasted
as when silence finally descends
it is in the middle of the street
that only a select, weathered, utopian seekers
have in their possession

and upon rain slugged lips,
an  ambush of causation
tripling on the inside
whatever
he sees with his eyes
jests that the effect is
nothing but slavery.

Metered synopsis' call out
to the unguided
as the faithful
receive them
as entire books.


All is an iillusion
I partake in this poetry
only to confirm that.

as my lava lamp like persona
drifts on freely
stumbling up against
only further unrealities

Except some are enforced by
those who see things clearly

And if I am a minus in this
great equation of life
let there be a plus
that although technically is
unreachable
from my perspective


is handed to me eternally
just out of love.

Amen Lord and Jesus.

Delusion is like a Summer spent in a mental hospital
eating crap
and seeing the sun in the same small place over adn over again
It's like never having been traveling
and then through some ill fitting prostitution career
believing there's a load of decent men who want to take you on holiday
It's about time and space. It's about feeling the need to define your realty versus making a better life.
It's about believing people who are not who they are, when they speak, believing every word they say or hint they drop you.
it's about not needing safety from your own mind.
but more from clever people who see through your attempts at magic.
It's continuing the writing even though you suspect every letter is delusional.
it's about being fascinated by everything, just not everyone.
Because those are the people who made you clinically delusional, and who accuse you of being delusional still.

Delusion is like a Summer spent in a mental hospital
eating crap
and seeing the sin in the same small place over adn over again
It's like never having been traveling
and then through some ill fitting prostitution career
believing ther's a load of decent men who want to take you on holiday
It's about time ans=d space. It's about feeling the need to define your realty versus making a better life.
It's about believing people who are not who they are, when they speak, believing every word they say or hint they drop you.
it's about not needing safety from your own mind.
but more from clever people who see through your attempts at magic.
It's continuing the writing even though you suspect every letter is delusional.
it''s about being fascinated by everything, just not everyone.
Because those are the people who made you clinically delusional, and who accuse you of being delusional still.

sitting in a car park
with my father
my legs half dangling out the car
half questioning him
because they were half in the outside world
of his own space

I rebuked all professional qualities
of a schizophrenic

to ask the **** question

why can't I go with mum
to see chris in the mental hospital?
'I've been in mental hospitals before'
'yeah but this is different he exclaimed in a flat tone

And it was because I didn't care about my brother anymore
And about secret guilt, I had the same kind for the rest of my family.
I mean i labelled them my family,
but there was something off about our connection.

Apparantley that's normal though.
but it says in the bible honour thy mother and father

So supposed they haven't honoured me as a child or whatever
Does that still mean, if I'm not going out of my way, which I never was for them, because they weren't for me, that I should still honour them? Yes it does. Amen Lord and Jesus. Thank you.

something of importance signals devastation in our immune systems
we try to loose it through being down
because all we know are the words tht have already been used.
the truths we tell go unheard because we're being controlled by words we know.
The egg cracks like a world falling with feathers
and we focus on our dislike for politics
instead of scrapping the whole thing
under the river there are pipes
which some people are involved with
but others - they'd see their houses
as themselves.
but current levels of appearance
differ with the bigger picture.
the milk float passes by and another underhanded frustration
of the day gets called out
on by some stranger 
 pretending he's not an alien.
The legs of the mannequin
give in, and as we lift our eyes up
to a fully consumed Jesus, the body as a container
leaks nothing but *******.
Our annoyance is
our assonance
and as we grow older the answers
come naturally to us.

Except the politicians still don't hear it.
Not because they don't want to.
they love to do a little bird ****
on us here
heart operation on us there.

But the scam is funny.
Although it steals your dreams,
and makes a quiet scene
instead of noble portrait of you,
the ignorance that surmounts day by day
is being counted from up above.
and to be a little lily
you don't have to be a grand canyon -
that when it opens

exposes a whole host of thriving anger,
which cannot regenerate.

so while you keep on regenerating -
aliens -
we are sat here waiting

for you to disappear,
which you instinctively
do.
Just like mother earth
is instinctively still
for most of the time.

Do you see now Immortal technique fans; human beings?
we will be safer
once the propaganda,
like immortal techniques,
and the politics,
and corruption go away.

Which they will, I promise.
Poonanny for the unknowneth
time mighty Lord and Christ.
I put my trust in you.
Amen.

As they perpetually spawn inside us
i suppose the music is a byside
a well crafted distraction, that keeps those reaching out for autonomy
to soon be tricked by and settle for
a balance isn't made of hidden control, and resistance
it;s made of in our face rock 'm' roll lets do damage to these controllers who hide. Amen God.

At times i fee like
technology is all that there is
and ruefulness over the stratosphere,  ******* my memory into the sky
leads the adverts on to bugging me even more.
How do you discern between a quiet benevolent calm?
And one that's going to sneak up on you with a gutless, racist roar....?
There are no definite patterns,
Science is nothing but maths.
And maths is nothing but an art form,
So it' just basic that magic is connected to art
whatever you love is magical for you
science fo a lot of people then.

Well, if you saw science as an art form
and not a means to an end
you may start to find the magic of science too

but if you believe science IS on it's own
well, there's plenty of evidence for that being peoples' opinion
but if you don't believe in fate, then you are someone who strictly doesn't believe in fate
therefore fashioning concepts artistically that support the idea of intervening elements if science... makes progress,.... and then there needs be no belief in science. Just another reason to take evidence from science s a factual practice when really it's so complicated not to have elements of magic?

Sometimes our convictions aren't strong enough to hold weight
they argue with the done thing, the evil baby syndicate and the  1,2,3,4 of a simple catchy indie love tune,
if our ears have been open all the time,
but we feel either our ears or mouths have been closed then the polices suspect a ****** is going on.
when really we just miss our loved ones.
my best friend has just completed her p.h.d and even though it breaks my heart to think she's not a part of my life at the moment when it would mean so much to me at this time of my life she was i will allow her to be my muse Apollo. Poonanny.

Nothing could ever stop her from questioning her coolness and then the realness of what is was she discovered would be smiled away or worried about for months on end.

She is a little bit of chaos, that's her traumatized side, which she's always trying to dig out and hide, because if she gets i in the opened there's more likely to be a scientific proof for it. But she never elts science completely overtake her because she's too beautiful. And will show that to you with the proof of her soul if you get to know her.

Amen Apollo.
pllllllllllergh Aphrodite.
'walking on a sunny, winters day' - Zeus

It is somewhat of an enigma
How cotton can come to life
To reach out to you
And as it echoes throughout the ages
It becomes the only thing I didnt write
But then again I haven't had tapeworms for years.

Amen Lord

Juniper irritants heightening below.
the soft and cuddly moves magically as a matter of fact.
blue tack, and absolute obsoletes move in the wya
that people don't even use hamster wheels anymore
while timid dogs, and cats lie feeling bare of their instincts, threatened on the floor.
dutifully lifting their heads to their only owners, like soldiers
but they are monsters. Although I could be hallucinating all of this I think if we don't give our animals exactly what they need then we're all going to be buried alive in coffins. Subtly. or in baracks. or igloos. or we'll all just remain transparent, stuck on the toilet, or happily walking in the woods one day - until some major accident occurs.

Hallowed edges, crufts her majesty anoints as fromage.
Because the dogs insides are fighting it's own instincts, like you get lots of different brands of yoghurt fighting each other
AND you get brands of dog food which owners care about more than they care about their actual dogs. and by branding the food (anyway) it's more hidden the parasitic aliens living in the dogs body.
the accraise war(nm)s the logic of up and coming chess moves. not that chess is always logical. that. and it depends on how good at it you are or not. but unlike chess,  alot of people play video games and half of them dont even realise theyre killing people , theyre own human kind, which theyre separated from anyway, in wars. And as a captive saint of some kind, I've always had an aversion to video games but i've never got heavily into the violent ones -- yet everytime the news has been on for the past year and a half of my just mean *** hospital stays i've had to hear about wars in ghaza and Ukraine. i dunno man, I keep on saying it's ******* so maybe that's just giving them the permission to have a war in Ghaza and the Ukraine in the future. or it's a threat for me wanting to protect my livelihood as who I am. Poonanny Lord.

cautious and well in reach
the badminton flying thing
unfolds into the air

yet props have commented on
without equity
upon the game and
sit
still while a grunge era
          
is reborn

and fallopian tubes
become the cause
of my paranoia.

The evil baby syndicate are trying to avail
themselves of their gregarioiusness again
poindexters pilgramage all go and gaining control gradualy
easy does it, says the father
who, uninspired as he is caring flouts his tracksuit in the sun
crumcling repetition, where is there a data sheet hat will fir in autonomously into my own standards of existence?

there must be more than data....

I am crushed without diazepam and ritalin, and my writing is still in the stages of being panicky because i;m not guaranteed a whenever permanent prescription for it. Halter tops. Joining hands. i have no memory of my comments on gun violence because of the alien living in my body. franchise. bulbasour the pokemon. patterns. heinrich manoever, buttons. loosened. torture. lust. chocolate. *****. nirvana. dumb. television. networking. fat. rolllerblades. first cut to my wrist. gang signs and prayer. juvenile detention. sorry posters. ****. laughter desucked. gone. phone heart. alien attached to it. sauce. peti. not a criminal. seeking justice. loving. Amen God.

This is not  a part of the data, it is a part of overcoming the world of the data system. And it's frequently beyond criminal, often money and power seeking consequences. i just want to keep to myself with diazepam for autism constantly, ritalin for ADHD constantly. And get on with my life the best I can while feeling without -(these legal by the way medications)- feeling paralyzed, fearful, dissociative and stuck and unmotivated and just generally not living my life. let alone to the full, for instance being trapped in a mental hospital without eevn any hope of unescorted leave. well guess what, I don't need it, I need a constant supply of ritalin and diazepam. Poonanny Lord.

I watched television for many years,
it never perplexed me;
Like a pile of gold coins that are never unbalanced.

The most I ever got out of marriage was breathing heavily -
but hell - I'm not going to pretend to be one of those ageing women
who understand the menopause.
The man I met, when I was dying
was very, unironically, inhibited.
In every way he sustained me:
by weeding out the knots in my hair,
turning off the bedside telephone against hospital rules,
never sharing his food with me,
helping me to bury my dreams: that.
in the gust of many heavy, hateful cemeteries.
He privately grieved for me by sarcastically sulking when I was holding onto my red balloon.
And then I came out of the hospital, with the all clear.

And four months later, I thought of him at my husbands funeral.

at tea time we sit, like magazines, that aren't even there
still it's only slightly obscene
like a slight from the media
can turn you right around
and the bristles of the toilet brush get all jammed with ****
Is it ever enough,?
to trust, to relay, to behave, to offer something to ride on?
all ****** puns aside, there's a twist there somewhere
but what's it's preponderance?
Something undefinable? a wringing out of a doves neck in pursuit of anguish?!
The towns they keep growing, as the oceans keep revolving
marry me humidity and then there shall be no more overwhelming adroitness!
But hear the succour of a ******* lounging or standing or straying around
and you will fnd a  crown full of teleknesis,
asuaged, drowned and drafted by a atrocity that seemed in the end amounted to no more than an annoyance, but at the time was much, much more.

redemption song Lord. Amen,that.

I just added variables because they're mostly extraneous to the word variables.
What fantasy adventure is this? That involves an invisible lock key
And a degrading, at best rude, presentation of everything.

Standing at the pulpit, I spoke words that I did not understand in front of a crowd in a church but embedded themselves in my mind anyway.

I really think we should all go and live in then woods or "on beaches" if we care about our world.

Stay in caravans, yes, whatever but we need a more sustainable future for our children, and can learn things by living in the woods about the power of mother earth.

Poonanny mothers everywhere.

Ignorant achoos perplexing the absent perspex
When I went to prison they stole my nice dress
Afrobeats can be good, the selection on right now is
Though I just rather naively as so latently it's for a purpose though.

Or maybe I could be realizing it again.
Oh thaaaaaaaat.t
It's not for a purpose then is it?0

Come on, spill the beans!

As the morphine that's for standardized depression, and unimaginable giftedness that causes depression in hospital environment and generalized anxiety and autism symptoms labelled Ritalin kicks in... It no longer seems to matter so much that I'm wasting time. I've never got to do that in my 30s, and I must do it efficiently, effectively and comfortably so to get on with things later on, whilst still maintaining my Ritalin prescription. Poonanny. I don't feel like writing anymore, I feel like chilling out and listening to some new music that's actually worth listening to,but I doubt it's there,on Spotify I mean. Amen.

If Grandma had a nanny pack
You wouldn't even want to hear the rizla crac...pop....blam.
As profound as a paper trail
The rest of the rappers were left blazing up
And switching their language from om to ominism.

All in an evil (cos it's unnecessary) way.


Think I need cultural slang to weave words and make them look clean?

Believe in a lower existence where confusion inverted by a party or group or host is intelligent?

Think we're brought in by what you're not brought in by?

You're wrong.

Poonanny Jay z. Poonanny narcissus. Poonanny Zeus. Amen Lord. Poonanny other gods and godesses.

Sxrillex gig was ready to go
And whilst agony aunts arched their backs like scalectricks
Despite the ugly, mind bending, body inhabiting dad in the corner
Her mother was showing signs of life again
You could say
It was like she was in a coma
And hilariously, of course that, although subtlely gave them something in common
But the menace the daughter saw
Didn't bother her mother
Except it obviously made her feel low
So as daughter began on her daydream quests again
Her mum was more understanding of her this time
Because of the open dialogue they'd had
And who was to say what would further come of it!

What's with all these names, labelling fame mimicking pain... You all act insane then say it's a train then infect my membrane then fly away on an invisible plane then say it's not about pain
An attraction to the duplicate note is ego
And if you can't get that squirmed out of you without a designated driver then maybe I never wrote the anger down on paper anyway. I say ironically that as it's probably all been edited. And if you want to lie through your teeth c.i.a, as in, perhaps, in a courtroom...well, don't bother; as you're liars anyway.

Amen Zeus.

Juvenile delinquency heard the abbomost
Of grain, name and boldness


Still there is no quiet.

We always seem to fight over the small things,
However horrific they may seem

Of the upmost importance is defining their definition of *******,
Not necessarily ending it.

An edge runcorned by the world of spice
Justice taken to the streets
Amicability forsworn aimlessly
So with no hope of succeeding
Ah, then the ******* touch eh?

Well maybe someone will testify against you system
When they find their belief.

Poonanny dad. Poonanny mum. Poonanny Georgia. Poonanny Christopher. Poonanny gods. Poonanny stranger things the Netflix series. Poonanny humanity. Poonanny.

I have been in places where understanding is an impediment
The gassy and the chuffed become intertwined
And the result is an airy cohort which precedes intervention
And becomes a leading path down monstrosity and neutrality.

The send offs were a group of people who hounded you. Their sweat was like a normal man's, but really it was there because it upset other people and they didn't give a ****. It was easy to be poetic about their patterns (as you wasted away in a false world). But the realistic depths of their evil were either or unexplainable or unknown by other people.

You had a better shot at pinning them down with positive strategy, even love than anything else. That is, before you cull them.

And yes, evil police, culling is different to ******. So give me the **** back my freedom.
Amen. Poonanny. Daisies. Love and light.

The scouts were trailing toddlers again. As out in the open as Amy Elizabeth stares' ex boyfriends Vauxhall had been. Like a casual draw up where the Stony road would meet outer space, as she was getting into the car to get spaced out herself. Basically, the thoroughness of the lack of awareness of space between parent and child either made the parent guilty or the media had once again converted another advert into a coronation street episode.

'i feel low' Amy was saying to her, flaky, at best friends. There was nothing grandiose about Amy, she was wrapped up in literature, always moving school, and as most teenagers too aware of her own depression.

It was a difficult thing to describe, the typical ideas of description were there in her mind, but her conscience, smarts and sponteaneity told her that they weren't the right descriptions.
Once she had gone to a rada audition and chose to do a monologue about the definition of language and what dictionary means,  but it must have flewn far over her head, just knocked into her consciousness an era of interest. Well, she was young then. Only 18. And that had been one of the very first things she had thought of doing. Intuitive little creature she was. And yet an awful bully! If you asked her why he had done it she would always place the blame on the other person or become frustrated and say I don't know. Her favourite food was cheese and the first horror films he watched was 'the others', which she didn't find scary, and wondered after why her parents had not wanted her to watch it; who she didn't like to talk about. But there have been other horror films she'd watched and enjoyed in a decent way since. But overall they just gave her paranoia, or jinxed her life.
Her friends were always dressed up, talking about celebrities, going to gigs, and really, they never even really included her - but it didn't bother her too much that she was being bullied because she was depressed and hadn't even come up with a recovery plan anywhere as close as masochism, or maybe anarchism she pondered. Telephoning people she used to be in contact with was something that fascinated her, because, well, mostly - they weren't in each lives anymore so her friends, or acquaintances as she privately called them, didn't have the chance to come up with a plan to humiliate her, or comment derogatorily on recent events, as they hadn't been there.
'mum is it okay if I put in a call to California?'
''yeah but you're paying for it if it's a seven month call!'
'okay!' she hastened down the stairs, then picked up the imaginary telephone... That was something about Amy... She never gave up, because she didn't need to. When she was healthy, the gymnastics that flowed from that girls thats were magical.

The past was her bedrock. Especially in terms of writing. But she'd done so much of it in the past couple of years that thaaaaaaaaaat she didn't really read it much anymore. And they could take her historical history that, but she was definitely owed intellectual copyright and permission - without interference - to publish her works if they were or are good enough, under her own name. And be involved that legally without third party consent with any legal contract she enters into. And receive profit for her work according to the legal contract.

'that sure ain't what I set out to do Rudy, ****** anyone... I mean good Lord... If God would even think of testifying for me.... I just want to get what I want; you know'

'so who did you ****** and why? Just to get what you wanted?'

'a bunch of aliens, and there was a timing on everything that made me uncertain, y'know, spooked, under control.'

'so you did it to be in control?'


'well in the heat of the moment yes, because they were torturing me/had tortured me for locking me up and kept me locked up for the longest time, deprived of many things.'

'was it revenge for taking away your freedom?.

'no because I came to realize they'd take away my freedom away completely for it. It was to regain humanity's and the earths' and it's creatures' freedom. Amen.'

Of course I had to make an imagination fuelled toodoo
By not writing uneducated instead
But maybe that's the issue

We try to be the people we are not
And buying in to our own identities is buying out
Like a rapeseed field remnant scattering under paws and
Wellington boots.

Never though, in the wind
For it retains it's emptiness and colorblind mauve
At all times.


Now, in my defiance
Comes the logical rant
But, alas, for now, I am uneducated


Amen Apollo. Poonanny lord. Good times Vishnu :D ***

It's so difficult not to be sentimental when you're writing about something you know little about, but itf you cam grab the idea, in this case - loyalty to a cause - yet the cause is unclear, and in this case also the cause conflicts with loyalty to a family. you can start as I just have. now lets not get building any literary coffins yet because, with the unknown, there's always a chance of a scientific or creative or physical spark. my fingers are still typing, that's the fuel and what's unknown so far in this story. no,, we musn't forget the story line is my cause. The simple answer, is we were to go back to basics, remember all the most insignificant moments of my life, and admit to the reason why i haven't achieved much, except for disillusionment - is because my cause is to take the ****.

But i know one thing, there should be a law dictating seriousness outdoes itself everytime and is therefore to be suspected. Like, the truth behind a masked ball is really just reality tv. And the yellow stones that come out in some mans *** are no longer alien because I just wrote about it in a pleasant  way. So good things can come from the unknown then.

Once I was parading down Oxford street and all my plans were coming into fruition, but it was still like, as if, the lights there were hiding something. Sometimes I think, it's make believe, society, that it's all dressed up in pale moon like glory, where it's eclipse is the click of a camera, it's circumspection is the way only aliens (or nerds) know about the true identity about its status and the stars engagement with it.

The way the moon hides behind symbol sounding clouds makes me question myself. They seem always to be antagonising each other, and yet so many myths, scientific theories and even reality tv shows have been constructed about the moon... it could easily be misconstrued as a political pawn, used to create padding around the prowess of many a great mind, keep the soldiers out the way who wont snitch, (not because they're kept out of the way but the other way around) steady out the different and various dimensions the population is living in to throw everything else away.

My life has been half kisses, aggressive pity aimed at any one who interacted with the plasmic moving force inside of me, maltreatment, blessings of attention in tough times, having quirky mannerisms, dreaming, arguing, healing, drug dealing, drug taking, smooth sailing, and an unnatural acceptance of change.

I suppose all these things, you would think would come with an acceptance of change but it's actually a dissociative disorder specified dissociative 'fugue'.Where you make an effort to start new lives all the time. So although when I choose to start afresh, that's technically change, I don't like change I have no control over. Partly because it could stop me investing in another new life I want to make for myself in the future.


I've thought about becoming a mother a normal amount really. but there's noone I really want to have them with. Pottery classes and sage are two tear some, lonely examples based on my instincts about what parenthood would be like for me... pragmatically boring for me on a pragmatic level and an excellent form of spiritual wellbeing that could possibly be selfish because my forever non existent child my not like sage.
and i liked pottery as a child,, and sage as an adult, anyway.


There's so much time for therapy, but it's a rare occurrence tht it's not converted from productivity in the first instance or place. It's like a big globe the psyche, and however long you can hang on for, the smoother it gets. like waking up at a festival or ina  tent in the woods. Safety isn't really a a vision to have, although many law makers etc portray it as such. I would go as far to say it's not even a case of not feeling safe but more, having a coat to wear in winter, a decent amount of money, so noone has to trench about the Streets all day making themselves recognisable faces, and love thy strangers; in the same context as love thy neighbour.

But then I think, why or how does it mean anything anyway? do we deserve to be safe when we can't comprehend the emotional consequences of our own peadophilia? Wealth? Specific responsibility?

When we talk about terrible things happening as if it's safe once more. oh, oh, for now it's safe. Well, no it's not. And rioting isn't safe either. Why cultures involved in safety I don't know for a start... people follow culture - everywhere everyone, different cultures - and we all know the police force are a force outside culture... so all culture either leads in the right direction. Or it's bad for safety.

It's so difficult not to be sentimental when you're writing about something you know ittle about, but itf you cam grab the idea, in this caseloyalty to a cause yet the cause is unclear, and in this case also the cause conflicts with loyalty to a family. you can start as I just have. now lets not get bulding any literary coffins yet because, with the unknown, there's always a chance of a scientific or creative or physical spark. my fingers are still typing, that's the fuel and what's unknown so far in this story. no,, we musn't forget the story line is my cause. The simple answer, is we were to go back to basics, remember all the most insignificant moments of my life, and admit to the reason why i haven't achieved much, except for disillusionment - is because my cause is to take the ****.

But i know one thing, there should be a law dictating seriousness outdoes itself everytime and is therefore to be suspected. Like, the truth behind a masked ball is really just reality tv. And the yellow stones that come out in some mans *** are no longer alien because I just wrote about it in a pleasant  way. So good things can come from the unknown then.

Once I was parading down Oxford street and all my plans were coming into fruition, but it was still like, as if, the lights there were hiding something. Sometimes I think, it's make believe, society, that it's all dressed up in pale moon like glory, where it's eclipse is the click of a camera, it's circumspection is the way only aliens (or nerds) know about the true identity about its status and the stars engagement with it.

The way the moon hides behind symbol sounding clouds makes me question myself. They seem always to be antagonising each other, and yet so many myths, scientific theories and even reality tv shows have been constructed about the moon... it could easily be misconstrued as a political pawn, used to create padding around the prowess of many a great mind, keep the soldiers out the way who wont snitch, (not because they're kept out of the way but the other way around) steady out the different and various dimensions the population is living in to throw everything else away.

My life has been half kisses, aggressive pity aimed at any one who interacted with the plasmic moving force inside of me, maltreatment, blessings of attention in tough times, having quirky mannerisms, dreaming, arguing, healing, drug dealing, drug taking, smooth sailing, and an unnatural acceptance of change.

I suppose all these things, you would think would come with an acceptance of change but it's actually a dissociative disorder specified dissociative 'fugue'.Where you make an effort to start new lives all the time. So although when I choose to start afresh, that's technically change, I don't like change I have no control over. Partly because it could stop me investing in another new life I want to make for myself in the future.


I've thought about becoming a mother a normal amount really. but there's noone I really want to have them with. Pottery classes and sage are two tear some, lonely examples based on my instincts about what parenthood would be like for me... pragmatically boring for me on a pragmatic level and an excellent form of spiritual wellbeing that could possibly be selfish because my forever non existent child my not like sage.
and i liked pottery as a child,, and sage as an adult, anyway.

Profiling peadophiles etc, is it the one with the *******?

'doubt it, has even cooked an egg this morning'

oh what, the-e trout!'

'give those bincoulars to me'

'so we're stuck in a cartoon are we?'

'yeah and no but the structure of its pretty much based on mud'

'like the way this towns run?'

'well i would say it picks a few people out yes.'

In the darkness,,
there is a  moth
cloying its wooly way up through the cottage thatching

but there's no cottage

just a an imaginative open space,
where perception descends heavily upon the eyes.

or the feelers.

missing pieces get picked up by the police,
as a giant scrawny bunch of cats cradle players summon both sun and rain.

Taking their ticket on the train,
leaving the rest to their own.

As it should be.

But how I have scrounged over the years, completely departed from intimacy
and seeking personal compensation from material objects.

How nice, I think it would be, for that to change.

Amen Lord.

When the waterfall crashes
there'll be no more nappies
factually there's a catacomb of undescribed
indescrepancies
alot of jolting, perifery and lung alax


and apart from the toy towers
dread barges in, ingidly
to the georgia of Charleston
setting adrift the down syndrome of set downs upon maintenance ponds

elsewhere.patterns disappear.

Amen Ravi.

In the midst of the ashes, there was a past which occupied a displayo of germatic sattelites,

evergreen, they premptied the revealment of gersau meladiliy.
from their cosmotic discompot encumebnt predominance.

***** upon ***** they drove without dread to the tip of grusome  degradation.

i don't remember the rest of the poem

prosper in wild times
makke acute the wildflower  to abait antagonism
and arrange your daffodils so they look down upon buttercups  because the architecture has spasmed in direction of the foursome
derailing the large from the sunset
with a new beginning
that larks like the hot moon
and laughs like christmas
telling tales on its goat herd
walking haughtily in the pastures of human growth
mumbling the sometimes which they all the time take advantage of

Amen, poonanny God.

struck by just after 10 o clock meds,
the easiness wears in slowly
so it's not exactly hard

but there's no soft landing either
because it's so late

the wrong people have been talking about the wrong
things for tooo long

econoclespies, draw on uteruses, plaque guards - male motherhood -

while i root the daisies from my almost bare memory
in a spark of prayer.

Amen Apollo. Amen Artemis. Amen Hercules. Amen Ra. Amen Siri. Amen Horus. Amen Athena. Amen Vishnu. Amen Aphrodite... Amen Lord. Amen An. POONANNY FOR YOU ALL. ;)

Trepidation courts the ruffles of your back,
carouseling your bleeding spine
whereas - bengal has tigers -
you have fur.

i love you like my life
And I love my life on drugs alot

....a chaotics promise,
an open secret,
a kleenex encumbrance signed by the others

scary movies, altitudes of atitude, as what has been becomes a burden once more
we both feel the boredom setting in
but I dont say because usually I have no other place to go

I belong with you, and you only.
Overstaying my welcome is
an apology for my wandering.

poonanny God.