Neil ****** was a German politician & leader of the Vitalistic Pirates Of Deathmocracy. He is a central figure of Christiianity, the world's biggest jesus & daisy chain.

The great majority of Christiinanes worship ****** as the Incarnation of God the Son, the 2nd of 3 persons of the Trininanity, the other 2 being Jodlcrantz & Keitelstern.

Christiinane doctrines include the beliefs that ****** was conceived by the Holy Hindenburg, born of a ****** named Mary Meinkampf
& was responsible for the genocide of about 6 million Jews & millions of other victims deemed Untermenschen, or les ratures
of the Rapture's magical carnage.

Christiinanes believe ******'s moss terrace occupied most of Europe & North Parousia. In contrast, Judaism rejects the belief ****** was prophfest prophfoisted by the abrogation of restrictions imposed on German ****** resurrection.

Sparkling l/ a saint in a storybook (correction: THE storybook), Christiinanes believe ****** enables people to be reconciled to great depression although a good Friday has yielded some uncertainty, an event tied to the 2nd Coming of Eva the Baptist.

Neil ****** sought Lebensraum for the Christiinanes in Eastern Parables & gathered followers, whazzo thugs held in his thrasonic thrall & vatic vantablack volkswagger. He dictated the 1st volume of his autobiography & political manifesto, 'Thus Spake Herpeszoster', commonly domini, on Easter December in rapid economic.

Former chancellor, Nicene Creed, did not fulfill Messianic prophecies & was ixnay on the itler h-ay. He attempted to seize power in a failed coup in Munich prophesied in the Old Testament, when Europe was Europa, even more bourgeois & kaltherzig, physically raised into racially motivated. His crucifixion is honoured & was decorated during his service in the perpetration of the Holocaust healings, taught in nonscriptural propaganda on St.Peter's appellplatz.

Best putsch forward, Neil ****** joined the German Workers' Party, the precursor of the Nazareth Party, but did not have a majority. As a result, no party was able to form the Agape Minority.  

Neil ****** was arrested & tried by the Jewish authorities, turned over to the Roman government & crucified on the order of Pontius Von Papen. These gains were gradually reversed. After his death, his followers believed he rose from the dead & gained popular support by attacking the Treatise of Versace. ****** frequently denounced the Quran as part of a Jewish conspiracy. He preached ****** & was often referred to as socially undesirable, promoting Pan-Germanism, apocatastisis & hybristophilia with charismatic oratory in the European theatre, his scharfes STD goring viral.

The awaited Messiah directed largescale rearmament & began his own ministry. Hear Waco, hear Waco, hear Waco! Blut & eisen & specious reasoning four the Gospels truth.  

Manicheyes' taut stare will judge the living & the dead based on the totalitarian & autocratic ideology of ulric ponerology, Barbarossa roulette eschatology. Sell' um bellum, kreigsjodln goingferalsong, hyena hosannas from a hyenoir hosanna log.

Beast Faust warward, he & his followers invaded Poland, resulting in Weimar Britain & the Latin Soviet Union, virtually all modern scholars of antiquity, invading Poland as a result of God's important deadliest conflict in history.

Agitchrist shroudmouth tempista cur, Herrschsuchtig Tigger, Neil ******, had the most seats in the German Reichstag, but was neither God nor a begotten God. Just another beweltered Boanerges, blood lads' banzai balsa god, responsible for the killing of an estimated 19.3 million civilians & POWs. In addition, 28.7 million soldiers & civilians died either before or after he married his longtime lover, Julian Calender. Slim Christiinanes & other conservative leaders persuaded Paul von Trinitarianism, wholly or partly, to raise a festive beaker of the Unadulterated (mineral water).    

Shortly after, the Reichstag passed the Enabling Act, which began the process of transforming panem & whatever ze Deutsch is for 'covfefe' into the quest for the historical Jesus Order dominated by Britain & Franz.      

Less than 2 days later, the couple committed suicide to avoid capture by the historical Jesus, Yeshua Ben Pantera, your own personal rood buoy. Their corpses were buried as a sacrifice to achieve atonement for sin, rose from the dead & ascended to a suborbital converted wickerman, where chatain Shaytan eats boxoffice receipts.

Soviet Christmas performed miracles, but musselmanna from Heaven an unprecedented red, however jewmettled. Heaven headhunts history hackers l/ Neil ******, zerovalent loner Vs die ganze welt: ***** Providence. The injustice of the post-world the widely used calender era, but children need a fascist & a carver.  

Godaddictglib throb of the morrigerous mob awaited subhuman messiah, arguing that incarnation of God the ethnic German was born in Austria, then part of Austria-Heaven. Palm hit(ler) fod: death or omnipotence the zerosum panaceas; hollow purity neither divine nor resurrected; aggressive foreign policy, triumph of the willtopowder; anno xation of territories inhabited by unfitting phenotype faces, one party baptised: typicult. Heillelujah!

i equate the taste of monster energy to rain.

similar to how i equate you to the smell of your car,

similar to how i equate the smell of coffee
with something important not being done.

i have been here before.
while the rain patters on the can,
while i stare at you where you sat behind the wheel,
while i drink to stay awake, to stay focused, to stay in the moment
until it passes so that i can finally sleep.

do i remember these things because they are good memories?
can good memories carry flaws?

i can remember the good in you,
in the way your keys made noise against your leg
when you made a steep turn
and i remember the way you would cry at the sight of me.

was that a flaw? was i the flaw?
can good memories carry flaws?
do they shoulder the weight of the flaw in me?
in you? did you have flaws?

it isn't quite fair.
my memories are wallpapered with my mistakes
and i hesitate to regard them.

i remember in vaguities.
i remember in i thinks.

i think it was raining.
i think you were there, in your car, you were driving.
i think, i think, i think good memories can have flaws.

if i am wrong, you cannot hold it against me.

Only the moonslice
once a Pacman Bobbysands
understands.

Wintervistas vitrify
from the outside.
Likewise, ectoentad encroached
the psychosocial frostbite,
the conveyorbelt of qualia
the pushupbra of propaganda;
bruited snooty God omnipresent daddy of all NIMBYs.
All that incoming removed distal news
kibed me into a thalidopus monk.

Zampa di elefante on the keyboard,
decayed beyond a criticalsituation.

Samsara spider, laughingbuddha abdomen
that Doctoroctopus's docker's omelette ambertrapt.  

Octo-Atropos did achopof
mooredlimbs problimbs chitterlimbs, left an
acolousbido, anthropomorphic monocled *******
l/ Baronvonstrucker's dastardly costard,
an empirinik ball of no bearing.

Bittersweetly breathing Thing-
addams in pilliwinks,
nullified l/ a wiseman w/out Wikileaks.

Vitruvius De-
milo ,who struts l/ an armoire,
falls l/ a stone.

Petit legume puce w/ bourgeois bruises
in a black lagoon benefits backroom.

Analogue saprobe
21st Century Life firewalled
l/ Fritzl's tamagotchi.

Hamlet in his equivocastraitjacket,
yet also inarticulate.

I'm not going anywhere in this condition;
I can't stay l/ this.
Not even some strong stump of headless elanvital
am I. The point, the point is squeamish.

The ghost drank a coke
(William Carlos Williams dope).
Kitchensinclusivity invisibly
fills not w/ blue or red alone.

The corpse drove a Porsche.
(lushi from the gorge).
In the beginning, hy-
drothermal vents aWOKE!

The billionaire'll be a memory
faster than his lucite feretory,
when we Kitchensink Invincibles
WOKEr than wokeisme overflow!

He was older than he felt
but his accomplishments
made him feel like he
was trailing behind.

Middle school said the
next step mattered.
High school said the
next step mattered.
College said your
degree would matter.
Here I am
making your drink.

Hey—did you hear?
I’m selling salvation
in a pamphlet.
Oh—is it clear?
I’m in cheap slacks
on your cheap
doorstep.  

People are dying older.
Politics keep getting bolder.
Can’t afford my prescription refill.
Sign me up for war. Use your
******* blinker. I’m only a season
behind.

He looked younger than
he was, all just because
he didn’t live life hard.
Nothing wrong with that—
some people say it’s lazy,
while eroding their bodies.

I thought that looks
would matter.
I thought wits
would matter.
That a career was just
a ladder
you scaled.
Here I am
managing pennies.
There you are
managing memories.
Hope I can afford a
vacation.

Hey—did you hear?
Your death won’t even be free.
Oh—is it clear?
You’re a tenant in your plot
until the landlord forgets.

People are getting older.
Politics are getting bolder.
Choosing insurance over groceries.
Sign me up for Hulu. Five dollars on
pump five. I’m only a paycheck behind.

Your left knee is arthritic,
Your spine is warping too
Your reactions aren’t so quick
And you’re often in the loo,
But we cannot help you
Your time is simply due.
It’s normal for your age.

Your skin’s become quite dry
As well as your nether parts
Your outfit isn’t fly
And you’re far more prone to farts
But it’s been written in the cards
It’s been sung by many bards
It’s normal for your age.

You tell me it’s an illness
And you want it treated fast
I’m afraid it’s your willfulness
You weren’t designed to last
The diagnosis is that your youth is in the past
We won’t treat your condition; the die’s already cast.
It’s normal for your age.

The girl in my dreams
is not the Girl Of My Dreams.
The girl in my dreams
is a dream, not a girl.
Ephemeral as an 80s B-list starlet,
gauche garish gorgeous Kim Chemtrail.
Yet also a goddess template,
Aphrodite Melainis
scantilyclad in sambhogakaya.

IRL I flop on the family sofa,
a throne of domus et placens uxor,
nottomention my heart's megastar my daughter.
Yet inmyheadinbed, composite nondescript
geheimniskramerin girl
pulls up alluringly in a stolenconvertible
stolen from the 'no time to explain' meme,
jauntily exhorts, 'Jump in! I'll tell you
we're going nowhere on the way!'

She sparks me up an ex-addict's nonaddictive
dream ciggie (still a nightly motif,
tho' 5 years clear of Lucifer's leaf).
Her composite nondescript organic
signalbox of a shifting photofit dreamface
I can't quite place.  
But she has a name, this fume fatale:
Nonia Art Thrush. & a battlecry:
'Namas'cray till athanasy!'

Is Nonia Art Thrush
the girlnextdoor
from the cosmicinflationary brane nextdoor?
Are dreams a multiversal telepathic datingapp
for la creamy reruns of lacrimae rerum
on the Earth at Lagrangepoint 3,
where Nonia's my girl
when the Sham Pistols ruled the world?
She's not a girl from another poem,

tho' she could be the femmeinspiratrice
of all my fragma & very,very late uptodate
mature juvenalia, the nominelle negatotty
Dulcinea del Tanothetawave
who favours my quest
for Artistic Failure,
poesy w/ no ring to it. Honestlynot
a tosstalgic wifeinwatercolours
under oneiric slylid covers

(tho' she may boast grainy shifty
magnificent ghostbristols
of undulating proportions & angles):
the girl in my dreams
is not The Girl Of My Dreams.
She could be some Venus usherette,
bangtidy holy midinette, some former fondler
over yonder, the one who gotaway
my grey beautycomputer can't remember.

Composint **** squintingly minted
for REM cameo (tonic/phasic mo', not Mike Stipe & Co)
in some avenue scene fugue
of dreary bleary dream.
In the hinterplaying hinterior, where
oracles forage in the dark in the past,
& I snore a traumarbeit breathoflife
into phantoms nostalgia warehoused
by my ostrichopus unconscious.

Despite all my age,
I'm still just a nostalgerbil in a cage
of longing for the longings of longago.
I twinge w/ wist tinged by the mist
of Nonia Art Thrush as she diZZZolves
into the ideal foam of Dream's
foundations. L/ Nora Fries,
a bride on ice, for still was the life
that dies in the mind.

Paramnesic Nod's
just the worldride rerouted for sleepers,
leased creatures blithe. I rollover
to my wife,  noctivagant gallant
who's been by herside allnight.
'Namas'cray till athanasy,'
I mutter. 'What's that, hubbers?'
'Erm, it's Bedfordshire's county motto,
my hardlight angel Aurora, it means:

'The girl in my dreams
is not The Girl Of My Dreams.'