Ruddy's was the place to be on Wednesday nights, cheap drinks, free hotdogs and the graceful presence of Times Square hookers late at night, what a wonderful scene, marines hookers and the best jazz juke box inn manhattan, rowdy and something almost always happened, better than life. I was a young man in a strange country, had my fists tested in FLA and Brooklyn for stupid prejudices on my behalf and others, words hurt only those who do not know their meaning and root. There was a black man sitting next to me, quiet and still, a true barfly, he turned and said;
- you are not from round here-
-  no - I said -I am from Mexico -
- you don't look Mexican, but let's go with it, I don't look African American either-
- r you from the south?-
-Georgia, as they call it -
-well, I've worked in FLA and met some rednecks, Cubans, blacks, but almost no Chinese-
-you mean yellow-
-or *******-
- or ****, you know men, I prefer racism down south, over there the distinction is cut loose clear, we don't like each other, but here, men I tell you, you wannanother beer?-
-sure men-
-Girls just wanna ******* cause I'm black, you know, to be cool and ****-
-yeah, Jewish girls wanna **** white Gentiles, different reasons same goal-
-I hear you, here it's all about being fashionable, but deep in the pit it's all fake as a 10 dollar coin-
  We kept at it until Beth started a fight with another ******, they were calling each other **** I've never heard.

"We can say that we have crossed the threshold of myth only when we notice a sudden consistency between incompatibles"

My manner of thinking, so you say, cannot be approved.
Do you suppose I care? A poor fool indeed is he who adopts a manner of thinking for others! My manner of thinking stems straight from my considered reflections: it holds with my existence, with the way I am made. It is not in my power to alter it; and were it, I’d not do so. These manners of thinking you find fault with is my sole consolation in life; it alleviates all my sufferings in prison, it composes all my pleasures in the world outside; it is dearer to me than life itself. Not my manner of thinking but the manner of thinking of others has been the source of my unhappiness. The reasoning man who scorns the prejudices of simpletons necessarily becomes the enemy of simpletons; he must expect as much, and laugh at the inevitable. A traveler journeys along a fine road. It has been strewn with traps. He falls into one. Do you say it is the traveler's fault, or that of the scoundrel who lays the trap? If then, as you tell me are willing to restore my liberty if I am willing to pay for it by the sacrifice of my principles or my tastes, we may bid one another an eternal adieu, for rather than part with those, I would sacrifice a thousand lives and a thousand liberties, if I had them. These principals and these tastes, I am their fanatic adherent; and fanaticism in me is the product of persecutions I have endured from my tyrants. The longer they continue their vexations, the deeper they root my principles in my heart, and I openly declare that no one need talk to me of liberty if it is offered to me only in return for their destruction.

She sits at her desk trying to write a story, her thigh shows like a pearl that came bouncing down the street with a Mellon attached to her ear-ring, but I can only look at her breast, her ****** and a drop of milk, our baby sleeps, she looks radians naked under the San Francisco sun, all I want to do is to have her and be inside her, all, complete as a canvas from Tanguy, but she won't let me, her writing comes first, I call a ******, she is also a woman and will be here in one hour. All because she gets me so hot. **** woman, love is the flesh we can never get.

Love is Evil
A scarfe can be usefull
Eyelashes begin at the mouth
A ******* is the breath of God
A bed is the only counselor
An advise is a curse
Legs first
A suicide lifts all hope

She resembles a make believe song
As if my sorrow for the staircases
Of the ocean
Blue because the nymph stretches
Around the ring of perfection
When the world was as dull as a sink
When the sky looked like a pillow
Trembling behind the doors of ***
As if the leggs weren't enough
To ask for a second meal
Then
The hand cuts the melancholy pear
Swift and shinning pear
Before the branch broke in half

1

the free wheel turns
and from the asphalt
the chains dissolve
after every consonant
like a sphere walking on heels
sums the response of your epoch
daaa-brrrum-pa-uf
the sound continues

2

on a sleeping tree
that spits butter
every other morning
MERZ came along
dancing on neglected values
like the horn of whales
bending water at every
corner
in the slums of egotism

3

art has no meaning unless
art has no arms unless
art devours brains unless
art verifies stupidity unless
art has to be edible unless
art sleeps like an idiot unless
art bleeds through my fingers
unless art

4

falling like dominos
will turn the bipolarity of the glass
only to be slashed
so I can see
my pillow that rebells
to the murdering machine
every night
every night with gloves
filled with blue feathers

5

we are born
we are children
we grow
we die
in between, there is a shadow
covering the ghost
slowly piercing your skull
singing on tip toes
in the enchanted forest

6

I call
for the un-trembling hand
amidst the violence
and humanity
against the frozen word
breast of black matter
where spring holds her veil
river stones and milk
ghost of love

7

garbage laying
daughters of despair
renounce the yolk of logic
senses shall play
as it was intended
do not let reason fool you
she’s no more than a
servant

8

who disbelieves
imaginary facts

9

the betrayal of reason

10

Popart popart
garbage of the past

11

a malicious smile
Hans Arp, Raoul Hausmann, Hannah Höch
and Richard Huelsenbeck
out of the ruins of German culture
all conceivable materials
the union of art and non-art

12

continue to study the natural world
childlike and convoluted
the elated and troubled
new forms of typography
a new visual language

13

The **** regime banned
all your creative activities
Primiti Too Taa

14
rakete rinnzekete 
rakete rinnzekete                                                       ­  
rakete rinnzekete 
rakete rinnzekete 
rakete rinnzekete 
rakete rinnzekete 
Beeeee 
bö.

15

Why?

16

the movements of the poem
string, cotton wool or a pram wheel
equal with paint
to reverberate
carved on its journey
repeating them in many different voices
a relentless momentum

17

new people, new shapes, colors, and details

18

blast the institution of slavery
blast the educational system
blast the paper cup morals

19
simultaneous happenings
will reign in the hearts of men
and turn them small and
smaller

20

Imaginary facts and the marvelous
appearances of the right moment
which is a woman
or a dice
with the shape of a cloud
******* on happiness

21

find a place

22

The nose is a myth

23

feign of death
the modern man

move your body
In all directions
Move it in the sewers
Where the flower bends
Near the sea
No history or false instructions
Debug it from anxiety
yours Is the metaphor of the muscle
with infinite hunger and thirst
Swing with me
Feel the substance of death
Without the worry of space
Your body will write the verses
Your eyes, feet, and  arms move
In the joy of pain ...... full exhaustion
your imagination will find
The livelihood of wonder
ease your body  
incantation
             mechanics of the irrational
Body of poetry
   The hand the eye slit waiting
for the lover
     slowly decomposing
In the sanctity of night
Your joyful body
will contemplate
Likewise
The beat and rhythm
of your presence
In the magic and mystery
of this wandering life

Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things.

She walks by my white floor
As if they knew nothing of the war or football
Or my wife's complaints
That sleeps
With a headache
And a trip to the Oxxo at two
In the morning
to get her aspirin
I went for a car ride
for some air
       Soccer is everywhere
everywhere
And I think of smashing a bottle of coca-cola
To the windshield of any
Pick-up
But already at home,,,, not possible
the leaves look at me
without saying a thing

She was not a thousand years ago
Damascus was the first city
Her poets nomads and between worlds
It is rubble now
It is deserted now
The gate between hell's civilized
Deseases
Syria is rubble ashes and dust

I saw what's a writtters block
words accummulated
on a bubble
in complete disorder
big smalll and all kindsofonts
like a back pain
or a sore tooothh
trying to go thrugh a funnell
with no musik to push them through
there are no imaginary worlds
it is all real

Those beautiful abysses where conscience
Awakes to the smell of incense
muscles seeking other beings
To obscure alleys

your hair and the ribbon
Atop those ******* resting on a humming bird
The sweet taste of hachis brings forth
Remembrances of life before God

Lovely the silent ****** of night
desire ablaze with fiery eyes
To You and the skin you wear
Like the unknown land of nevermore

Joel is a doorkeeper
for a rusty warehouse
and has a wife
a very angry spouse
and a son
one day his hip was out
two bodies going
on different directions
his blue uniform T shirt
floating in the powdered air  
barely walking up and down

he fell
while cleaning the murky water
that flooded the region
of cement factories and grey hills
two weeks without his employers
to even pay for the pain killers
or severance pay and no off time
his face had the expression of a struggling
red snapper

together
we would watch a gossip show
on the TV
while he ate spiced dry beef
boiled eggs and rice
the stories on the TV were mostly about
spouses, children, abandonment and
violence and
girls sleeping with their step dad
a psychologist and the skinny loud mouthed
blond moderator
who acted as the defender of society
completed the act

Joel could not stand up to open the door
a doorkeeper who couldn’t open the door
finally, after two weeks of silent pain
they gave him an assistant
we packed the last China bound container
bellied up with modems
to be refurbished and resold
to a billion internet hungry
Chinese beings

My job was done
two weeks past and I came back
he was not there anymore
but I found him
200 yards away under his shack
a crammed cardboard cluster of homes
he was in bed
lost 40 pounds and was
piped up, draining blood
from the chest
and a bag of ***** attached to the waist
someone was laying next to him
sleeping the afternoon
he smiled at me
missing two front teeth
skinny as a mummy
had three tumours
one trapped between the kidney
and the spine
one more in the stomach and the last one
next to the liver
he was to be taken to the hospital
with a danger of loosing
the kidney and his life
I gave him a kiss on the forehead
and left

It was the same pink sunny day
the same old trick of a life
but something was not right
it never usually is

There was a sitting cow on a prairie and a small **** came flying who resembled a martini glass that resembled a train, but if you sneeze the whole thing might fall and become an egg sandwich.

The blue eagle and the demon of the steppes
in the last cab in Berlin
Legitimate defence
of lost souls
the red mill at the beggars' school
awaits the poor student
With the housemaid Know huntsmen how to hunt on pay-day
Know huntsmen how to hunt
as papa speculates
with the smile
By the dagger the dagger the dagger
the tiger of the seas dreams of happiness
Avenged
The vestal ****** of the Ganges cries out Vanity
when the flesh succumbs
Stop look and listen
the famous turkey spends a day of pleasure
turning round in an enchanted circle
with the pluck of a lion
M'sieur the major
My Paris
my uncle from America
my heart and my legs
slaves of beauty
admire the conquests of Nora
while someone asks for a typewriter
for the black pirate
It is not possible
that a woman dressed as the Merry Widow
could become the wind's prey
because the millionairess Madame Sans-Gene
leads a wild existence
in another's skin
Her son was right
Patrol-leader 129 who wears an Italian straw-hat
and is the ace of jockeys
is abandoning a little adventuress
for a woman
It is the April-Moon which chases the buffalo
to Notre-Dame of Paris
Oh what a bore the indomitable man
with clear eyes
wishes to judge him by the law of the desert
but the lovers with children's souls have gone away
Ah what a lovely voyage
- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/The-Staircase-With-A-Hundred-Steps#sthash.Ty7mN87W.dpuf

There is no distinction between a soap and the feeling of touch and the immortal cockroach, while I sleep in the confidence of losing everything.

Which soul of things
dispute me?
Each slit or crack in the street
has their soul in me
the flower is I,
the mouth that speeks, the feet tied
all escapes are I,
what disputes tonight my soul?
a horn or the adventure
the cat who crosses the bridge
under the silver pond
the meat, the weaving material
in each sniff I think,
with the sweat I love,
your life deserves a dead soul
that I may dwell

Being small
without explanatory words
we were the curtain closed
the **** of my mother
and it would seem that soul
enters a woman
that turns …… when seen
like losing a coin
She inhabits all me
I am she
as decomposing meat
between us

ships, trains and horses
already vanished
how many souls will have ******
her breath
while wandering through my body
in the leaves of the trees
each
trembling with their own way
Of thinking me

I forgot I could jump
From a higher height
Since a child a dream haunts
My waking hour
Like a private eye of my soul
Once I jumped and swore
From an impossible height
On the reality and confusion
Of truth
And dream
Memory alike
Yesterday I jumped aggain
This time into the ocean
i fell
There was a mare
A white mare
And lost friends

While it seems like an easy task, falling in love is something that many adults have great difficulty doing. The fear of gagging causes the heart to tighten up so that love stays in your mouth until you spit it out. Fortunately, there are various ways to approach the problem so that you can relax, overcome the fear of choking, and just let the love easily slide down. It's like riding a bike - once you get the hang of it, it becomes second nature.

1
Relax. Sit down with a glass of wine and relax. Do whatever you can to ease any anxiety, such as finding a quiet place, listening to music that calms you, or dream. This will help soothe your nerves and break the association of love being stressful, so your body will be less likely to gag. Gagging is a natural response to the fear of loving.

See warnings below.

Joel is a doorkeeper
for a rusty warehouse
and has a wife
a very angry spouse
and a son
one day his hip was out
two bodies going
on different directions
his blue uniform T shirt
floating in the powdered air  
barely walking up and down

he fell
while cleaning the murky water
that flooded the region
of cement factories and grey hills
two weeks without his employers
to even pay for the pain killers
or severance pay and no off time
his face had the expression of a struggling
red snapper

together
we would watch a gossip show
on the TV
while he ate spiced dry beef
boiled eggs and rice
the stories on the TV were mostly about
spouses, children, abandonment and
violence and
girls sleeping with their step dad
a psychologist and the skinny loud mouthed
blond moderator
who acted as the defender of society’s
completed the act

Joel could not stand up to open the door
a doorkeeper who couldn’t open the door
finally, after two weeks of silent pain
they gave him an assistant
we packed the last China bound container
bellied up with modems
to be refurbished and resold
to a billion internet hungry
Chinese beings






my job was done
two weeks past and I came back
he was not there anymore
but I found him
200 yards away under his shack
a crammed cardboard cluster of homes
he was in bed
lost 40 pounds and was
piped up, draining blood
from the chest
and a bag of ***** attached to the waist
someone was laying next to him
sleeping the afternoon
he smiled at me
missing two front teeth
skinny as a mummy
had three tumors
one trapped between the kidney
and the spine
one more in the stomach and the last one
next to the liver
he was to be taken to the hospital
with a danger of loosing
the kidney and his life
I gave him a kiss on the forehead
and left
It was the same pink sunny day
the same old trick of a life
but something was not right
it never usually is

I never asked for this
But when does anybody get what he asks for
or knows what he wants
or what he is chosen for
I only see people
behaving like circus monkeys
not even trained tigers have that look
a tiger is a tiger till death
be careful
It is only your life at stake
too much tolerance breeds blandness
dust under the rug
chatter and gossip
vomited on the radio, the news
injecting fear and chocolate blood
without any risk
spreading only a rotten stench
as if joy meant showing your colgate smile
just like a giant billboard telling you to let go
of the fight
not to resist and become like Mikey Mouse
with four fingers and the grin of death
****** got more style
I’d rather listen to an angry *****
than any anchor woman
or any senator
than any businessman
or lecturer, teacher, parent
I’d rather be depressed
or with a pain in my stomach
like the one I felt when a
frustrated love
told me...
"never change"
when I expected something else

oh  so  well  the  frame So delicate my brow
And such delicious branches like an elephant grasping for air
On the sidewalk where
hookers  courage add  with
ferns and accordions
on my hand
like the mist of love or
the fall of a feather
nothing on sight but
hunger
still young
where the tires,
with their beautiful song
Oh my lovely youth
My future
My lasting hate
The deepest agony and then
To become me and
Lovers on forgotten kisses
Where the moon and the cheeseburger
Laugh without time
All for my self
My lovely charming self

My mother late at night naked
She was in the hall, next to the bathroom
my attraction to women has been ever since
one of fascination and horror
my aunt wanted me to have a thinner nose
fuller upper lip
then my cousin promised to show me her *******
I never saw her again
that week I dreamed of her *******
the room at my grandma's house and chess boards

mothers have more influence on the poet
than any other being
they mark his view on life
where there is no line between dream
reality fantasy tale
and myth becomes evident once you enter
risk
and you learn to accept the most
separate and distant incongruences
thanks to a mother’s irrational thought

I stepped into a carpet of bulls and cows
the animals would awake at every one
of my step
hoofs and noses pink and red
all smeared with a gelatinous substance
the tree became for me impossible
to reach

mother and the father

The cat entered and she died
Her feet still moving
And I got mad
How could she forget
The unconditional love
for her feet I felt
Still moving
        they took her away
The indiferente of that cat
Moving across the tarp
How could she forget

Poetry was never intended to express your banal and stupid feeeeeelings, do not reduce it to lowest level of hatred, poetry is not your vehicle to be clever or breif. I Have no interest to read about your pathetic love life. I'd rather read about the life of a fly than your meager attempts at being recognized, have the courage to be Anonymous.... you can't can you? Too many poets, too little poetry.

Hey men I hate you
Mee too
You woman
I man
You left and hurt
Came
Like a China tale
I man
You woman
Hate your lips and ***
Your skinny little finger
An all my body drenched in sweat
I woman
You man
Hate you all day
Yesterday
Some ants were killed
With my sole
Thinking on the time
You were with another man
And two and three
Or when you passed away
I man
You woman
Bone with bone forevermore

I know my steps are no more
the infinite wisdom of the masses has become
the hideout of the scoundrel
equality is the mirage of modern times
it has deprived of dignity
all personality and original thought
even to the humble
simple tasted elevated soul
since modern man entered the idea
modern blasphemy
of equality
nothing but mediocrity
flies atop purchasing corpses
of the living souls
to admire a great man you must first
belong to the unique members of humble
thought
a subtle mechanism of the mind
where awe and emotion still exist
but no
says thee equal man
you cannot enter the room
first you must (horrible word)
decline your taste and bent for
exquisite feelings and a sense of beauty
force has left the room
instead we have complaints
and a total lack of confidence in self
in adventure
and the legitimate claim
to own your life

suicide has become a crime
one of the sikness of deranged mind
it is a right

I do not belong to this world
rather to solitude
an american crime
Oh evil and murderous incantation
in nature we seek solace from the homogeneous man
civilised murdering machine
my artificiality claims the ultimate prize
in decadence and sanctity
no more shall the ruins of judgements past
will assail me
the levelling field and the love of thunder
behaviour of evil deeds shall flourish
and man standing bent on the greyish mud
will perpetually love his trap

Do not let the migrating soul
Capture the night
You are about to fall
Agree with all
Bemused and in awe
Harness all hate in a pocket
Through and through
In the sadness of my sleep

Come to the door asphalt
New ***** and a wet ******
Salute each member cadette
Silently open the sea
Moreover shut the curtain
Asleep is fine
Clouds like dotted lines
Peoples faces ugly as fornicating
Roaches eat wood and sky
Breathe ether and hachis
Pompous beings indignant
With ****** the world forgets
As a woman with ******* thoughts
Speak dwarf innocuous as a hammock
Let love **** you
Asphalt

Why should I bend?
Night has qualms with destroyed souls
Only the hiss of the former days
Can restore the mattress of time
Should I repeat my self
on end higher than this?
Night becomes great deeds never uncovered
Like a woman's despair
Her self
Vigilant of departed cats
Dreaming silences
The street at her cover
Shines where there are
No more sighs
She mingles in poverty
Tries her luck as a natural state
Soul of dust paved on glory
Night seems nor dark nor dull
She steps into my soul
Dying ember suffocated
On mane.

Lend me your arm
To replace my leg
The rats ate it for me
At Verdun
At Verdun
I ate a lot of rats
But they didn't give me back my leg
And that's why I was given the Croix de Guerre
And a wooden leg
And a wooden leg

The day will come
when your vibrant life will assume
it’s divine calling
as the cactus surrounded by thorns
waiting for a mysterious animal
or the one to come
your life is your life summon
your soul
there will be precious stones
and the field of pure joy
in contemplation not alone
will your heart beat
to defend
as the grass beneath your feet
from the horrors of man
my child will be protected as the last
fruit to be fed
and rejoiced where death will leave the earth
on the continuos feeling
without knowledge
innocence reborn
out of your joy
never mind all
your flesh and blood will
rise
further on as it is today
clapping to the infinite
stars
cleaving to the dome
in the dessert sky
but the weeping child
begging with his life
is heard no more
seen no more
his little feet
and his little mouth her mother cannot feed
streets where not one can mention them
they are gone
from the image of toy
their’s is the pain hidden
beneath the priest’s cloak
as if warning signs for those
who cannot
will not
comply
to the filthy desires of commerce roads
slavery again subtle new
riding noiseless machines
like a dagger without blade
which hurts no more
into the joyless life there is no laugh

Awake awake let your limbs speak
let your skin rebel
let me ask you
where is your mother?
is it not the angel who looked into your soul
and her life turned into the secrets
of life reflected in your toes
here for joy you are made,
from wood and clay
ancient bursting flames
embers and shapes
visions from the magic land
imagination playing with nature
and artifice and nature combined
where is your strength?
is ti at the office?
in it in your car?
facing the computer or the bill?
or is it in the secret
of the first incomprehensible kiss
I ask thou
and thou shall respond
sleeping in the holy grass
innocent deepest abyss
where luminous beings ignore
what is a fork
but the cloud carries the luminous being’s
light
like a woman asleep
and the hunting wings
the dessert speaks
more eloquent than a tv
wild cry in the tenuous tensions of night
with your lonely fear
as the sun and the mysterious thorns

We owe a great deal to the French
The Langue d'Oc pretty much cradle
Of romantic tongue

French critical mind gave us
Some pretty good words
Baudelaire's translations of Poe

Charles Cross inventions
Rimbaud,,,,,,, where is he?
There are so many

To mention a few
But if you ever read
Benjamin Peret
Your view about poetry will change
Forevermore.

Af all the ecstasy one can enjoy
As if with no soul
Left in some gutter while *******
              watching them go by
Flames the night to all sorrow
Hookers doing their nightly and noble
Act
An escape from the brutal
frenetic evil
My lonely nights
Of vagrancy of thought and action
Alike
The intoxicating smell of lost lives
Pipes empty of crack
The desperate look of a tormented desire
Floating the dense fog that slashes your eye

Had the hope of giving up
as well as dying
had the hopes of any old man
with a **** for life of unstoppable
parables and boring friends

he stepped out of his house
walked as any old day
dressed on a two piece suit
went to the bus stop

He leaned to see if it was comming
and as usual he came fast
this mexican busess are all too reliable
for not following the speed
limit
He jumped in front of the bus
and ended it.

Her forehead listened
To the charge of disdain
Her armpit felt the swift blade
Of an electric urchin
As it descended to earth
Bearing the gift of sight
He then tossed all burden aside
Like the precize encounter
Of a short wave radio and
A breathing dog.

Solitude is a boat
In murky waters
The only place where the souls of the world still sing

Solitude is the song of the brave
Who ignore themselves
obedient to
The Infinity  within
Solitude chooses you
While taking a dump
Or dreaming with obsessed
Souls

It drinks alone with unspeakable boredom
Do not avoid it
It will shower you with
Gifts of endurance
Amongst the most incredible
Odds
Like a saint wiping his nose
With inimitable style

HOT, INCITING ****- MATURE, sensually COSY, COMPLACENT "INDEPENDENT" OPEN HOURS FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE. IF YOU LIKE TO SEE The order of the body increasing but on condition that the amount of clutter around also increases LOVINGLY and UNCENSORED, REAL KISSES Like PASSIONATE ***** COUPLES, with CARESSES ON **** LINGERIE, socks, garter belts, SHOES AND thong. UNPARALLELED NATURAL ORAL Knowing that 99 of the universe is plasma, a state of matter in which the particles do not engage one another UNLESS objects exist as individualS with ALL POSITIONS UNEDITED in HOTELS where Disorder, the greater redistribution and maximum entropy, order and chaos, feedback one another and the unstable tension creates an enormously creative field.

**** she said
You are a ***** with no batteries
Like a sword with no handle
Then a cup of coffee flew straight
To my left eye
**** she said, you are worthless
That night I went to the store
Beer and mezcal were on my mind
**** she said
I've been looking all over for you
What happened to your eye?
Let me kiss you she said
I left her place this time
Early morning.

Don't want to live
Don't want to die

One should always be drunk.  That’s all that matters; that's our one imperative need. So as not to feel Time’s horrible burden that breaks your shoulders and bows you down, you must be drunk without ceasing.
    But what with? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you choose. But get drunk.
    And if, at some time, on the steps of a palace, in the green grass of a ditch, in the bleak solitude of your room you are waking up when drunkenness has already abated, ask the wind, the wave, a star, the clock, all that which flees, all that which groans, all that which rolls, all that which sings, all that which speaks, ask them what time it is; and the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock will reply; “Its time to get drunk! So that you may not be the martyred slaves of Time, get drunk; get drunk and never pause for rest! With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you choose!”

Once in the Forrest a large animal crossed the lake where a person with large ******* and echo in her hair was bathing placidly naked, the beast turned into a mushroom to be next to the buttocks if the white female, she smiled at the tingling of her throat an drank a small portion of red wine, immediately the lake withdrew and a large bull emerged from the mouth of hell. Her ******* squirted honey and the mushroom beast jumped between her legs while the bull gazed at the marvelous woman that became radiant with green light coming from her waist tightened by a two faced snake. A man came along riding a bicycle when out of an apparent nothingness a sword decapitated his head that bounced all the way to the feet of the newly formed girl. He asked her to help him clean his eyes, she did so with two words, and emotion entered into the bull from the nose and made him explode like a bull frog, then the man took what was left of the bull and became a beautiful flute. She stood up and kissed the head of the mushroom and grew as big as an elephant even before the first elephant was borne. All this happened while the nymph of the lake pronounced the following " I will deposit in the hearts of men, the imperative need to follow ceaselessly his own voice" then disappeared inside the only rock in the valley.

A small girl just went by
Tiny little *** legs and *******
Had a six pack inside a plastic
Bag
Her lover friend was also Petit
She had long hair and the face of
An angel
They both disappeared behind
A rubber tree.

I never asked for this
But when does anybody get what he asks for
Or knows what he wants
Or what he is chosen for
I only see people
Behaving like circus monkeys
Not even trained tigers have that look
A tiger is a tiger till death
Be careful
It is only your life at stake
Too much tolerance creates blandness
Dust under the rug
And the chatter and gossip
Vomited on the radio, the news
Injecting fear and chocolate blood
Without risk
Spreading only a rotten stench
As if joy meant showing your colgate smile
Just like a giant billboard telling you to let go
Of the fight
Not to resist and become like Mikey Mouse
With four fingers and the grin of death
****** got more style
I’d rather listen to an angry *****
than any anchor woman
Than any senator
Than any businessman
Or lecturer, teacher, parent
I’d rather be depressed
Or with a pain in my stomach
like the one I felt when a
Frustrated love
Told me...
Never change
When I expected something else

when I think I loose
something goes to places of comfort
a sort of lattice with no edge
thinking is for ******* or simply graduates
my sole solace is to sleep
no waking for a single heap
women are somnambulist
with *** appeal
the brute will inherit the earth just wait and see
or don't
do as you please if you can

Barbed wire and lights
Bycicles with no lights
Atop abandoned plains where
Dried hair plough
A dark skin with fences on the brow
Like a messed up soul
As beautiful as as a pond
There are smiles
From the foul stench
Breast and a slave
To temper and soul

Americans love human rights
The more they scream
The bigger the crime
A marketing stratagem
The confidence man devised
Unable to touch
'you will be Tailored a suit
If you say what you think
Off to jail you go
The *** will crack
In a violent act
Delicate china flower
The human rite