I awoke, got up this morn'
to gliding dark and haunted fawn,
and sketchy shimmering plane apart
with pearl outline, obsequis art,

The thoughts so settled neatly
as the whisky rocks so clattered under,
liquid golden cast asunder
dreams a little left of field.

Hands unbidden wrecked the wire rack
as bottles, glasses, gems and jars went smack
bang, marble floor;
glass shards 'dorning feat of gore

The two step shuffle took it's slice
of cake, reward for shattered life.
Dot's of stars and bloodshot eyes
set fort between the panel skies

Strawb'ry field nestleds 'tween
columns cold with sterile sheen,
A bowl of sickly sustenance
pauses lips and throat and reachs, tense,
the guts below so dense
as substance grows and grows intents

the pitted stone I feel,
and stone in pit I reel
as anxious feelings stick,
Sick in mind, and mind so sick
The green gobbed gremlin
fear and trembling.

Some say the sonnets a dead form ¦ on yellowed pages and booklets torn,
Pentarchy shed and slain, replaced ¦ by memes I'm bicc, dat boi, he based

In synaptic pools, and neural spools, ¦ with cool *** claws, and digital jewels;
we set as one, booked up our sole ¦ while tindr/grindr take their toll

On sultry pages cast to withered dust ¦ while leaves left golden crust,
the muttered lines unbound escape ¦ to Tengri's starry 'voided gape

I think I am, I am I think, ¦ with wink and shirk and nod and drink
and cough, we splutter NoStros verse ¦ as fiery Gaia suffers curse

But then again, who are but we? ¦ a single sound, a drop in sea,
a dangling solace sharp in key, ¦ a lonesome sold for wired fee

When finally, undone we are ¦ our freedom sold, our chains bizzarre;
I'm caught between two planes that part ¦ a Second Life, and First (too dark)

So when again we sit and talk ¦ and fill the space with idle balk;
I'll notice parts of you I've missed ¦ and seek a comfort long dismissed

So when again we meet and stray ¦ to thoughts of hidden brevity;
I'm happy knowing it's just me ¦ Unhappiness my major key.

So finally, I'll try again ¦ to feel the pain, the roots and then
Pretty Pimpin? Scrimpin' life amock¦ Sat at home with screen and sock.

Frosty stares match withered trees; fallen leaves
deck cobbled floors and faces. Coffee cups
lick fur-lined fingers, shirking morning freeze.
The wooden gala poignant porters sup
their taste of morning revel. Flocking geese
set down to bristle 'gainst stone steps. Scattered
voices pool by slumbering streams, each fleece
a dot of pride and presence. The battered
boats are drawn out from their silent dreaming,
lined along the cusp; left to bob. Voyagers
teeming take their seat 'midst shivers; scheming
paddles mutter threats in slurful rages.
The coldest figure takes to stand with gun,
takes aim, takes breath, McHammering fun.

The outline of a figure too true to know
takes seat 'cross the matchstick table we share.
The moment ceases, all time sits unsown;
deepness gathers in her blossoming stare.
Your eyes, two pools of jewel encrusted light
sat amidst shim'ring crystalline jungle,
speak of hours lost divinating slight
changes, amazing observer of sigil.
To lose all time, a feat not hard done,
when lost in space of thing so absolute
in being, seeing beauty so weaves stun,
lost for words or thoughts this poet "astute".
To be honest, your looks shattered Troy's great walls,
But your intellect? wheeeew That gave God blue *****.

A scope so empyreal; bittersweet
nibbles adorn a morning spent in glee.
Gaze sublime drifts across burnt butts, a feat
enchanting drapes silken cloths tranquilly.
Loving breaths allude to electric surges
sweeping 'cross the woven rug. Tingles
bode impulses. Distance great submerg-ed.
Raw they meet, two ravenous bilinguals -
(amidst a sea of lost verbs, nouns and dots)
- ecstatic buzz b'tween conjuncted sentence.
Arcs dispensed oxford commas settling hot,
to touch, and temper, without repentence.
Holistic breaths unknot. Forgotten time
slumbers by bedside; voyeuring divine.

The figure moved; "let by gones be by gones
n'all" called the other reaching for gun.
Shadow flashed, eyes witnessed unsong;
"bound soul flitting shade bound, n'all!" gun sung.
As the bank clerk accosted sought shelter,
the barrelled void looked on with glee. Happy?
What a time to shine we've a belter,
and I'll betch ya bare presents from me.
Animate beings the devils in deets
Replete we so are and we suffer.
In-animacy, the terms quite discreet,
and our ignorance hampers our buffer.
For guns everywhere, unloading despair,
pushing and crushing; the barrels grim stare.

When the sun took a day off and the moon stood still
the clouds between them sought each other out for the deal, for real ya feel,
And when that scattered cache of semiotic deepness caught the speal,
it descended in it's gutter thoughts to slander sandy meal.

For if the sun had crashed and burned beyond Ra's power of affect,
it's Das EFX who've got to worry 'bowt that water at their neck;
For when dependent on the flowing of a deeper sense of being
we-in seeing fleeting selves diminish sprecht to dense ennui-ing.

Now the sun, my little homie, fudged right up the garden path,
and left that voyeuristic moon to mock eroded sand, and crass
his laugh a glutton's guttural injection, direct unto the scene.
It sounded callous, sounded violent, sounded object-able-y mean,

but yet the philanderers of flour, and the sorcerers of sauce,
course quite dour in this hour of recourse without remorse
rhetorting 'power captures power, and ostentious is the source'
the sun had forced my force to cower, not devour but endorse.

And so I showered in the grave held views of people passing by
as each took turn to point the lack of sun to my permissing eye,
dismissing why my thought might not rely on their own petty voice.
Rejoice I did when Moon knocked twice on mic, and made that awesome choice:

(he said)

"In stead I sit, ponder, perceive, provok-atate
'preventive' measures that you floundering and feeble fools debate;
I see expletive ridden arguments in punch ups cross the land
and yet the verbal aspect of your balk, is missing today's stand;

So all you shedy modes of being that eek discretely underneath
you better sort your petty shed out, before you compound with this wreath,
and let me warn you with this warning, yo I spoke to him (the Sun),
and he claims to think you slimey fudgers need a day to come undone.

gasps Come undone? gasps Undone? gasps you know that can't be fun!
And yet that Sun would shun his lesser selves to grasp at morbid stun,
and stun us all, beyond an instant, or an instance, with persistence.
No embellishment is needed, for we needed Sun to seeded

up this planet, without ballot, from the other heaven voices;
Now our choice's left our solar system's mother no rejoices,
and so the male figured mother (our gender knows eternal truth)
has chosen to reside with nether thoughts, and nihilistic proof,

He's like a ****** little teenager, reading up on Nietzche
who beseech ya for some aphoristic pleasure, please! Discreet ya
be when dealing with this kind of mess, solipsism can spread
and dread the narcissistic modes of thinking it can sole entread.

So don't equate power to will, and set to truthful being.
Or I'll hawk you out as wasted breath, some 02 needing freeing,
staining up the wall, that phishing contest,'ll never hold your thought
to any standard, 'cause my standard flies inside your whiny fort.

Banded meaning will not help you, claiming relativity too,
just makes you seem to be someone who seeks to level off the crew,
perhaps it aids you in allowing yourself certainty of fact
because if universal truth is true, your opinions deffo whack."

Then the mic was dropped, so by the moon, plummeting towards the earth
and the winds picked up the fast track run of rappers of every single birth.
Without rehearse they ran to grab the mic, and unified their form
but alas the mic was Toronto wide, and burning like the Sun.