language has to remain
a medium of escapism...
     the world is already an
Alcatraz...
     and you don't hear it
loud enough, these days:
  otherwise we'll all be
procrastinating before
         a hierarchy led by a crown,
and diluted ditto-heads...
      we are, actually, living
in times of a non-existent
         authority...
                i'd have more freedom
if governed by a Gaddafi...
         everyone these days seems
to want to overlord the world...
         i can't pardon
this authoritarian circumstance
of the individual...
  i can't...
                 we'll not even meet
   at the local grocery store,
  and here we are,
                gang-******* the medium
of albino,
                      this canvas was once
a circumstance of surrender...
            these days it has become
      a laceration...
                a testimony
                 forwarding grief,
    and a dozen gobs leeching
            a smacker from baron knuckle;
should arithmetic be forgotten
when it comes to counting to four grooves
    scandilising the pampered cheek.
and yes: that's violence,
but that's not me: strapped to a suicide vest
   crying out ummah! in Istambul.