who said that poetry is solely about emotion? why is it never considered an auxiliary to thinking? huh?! who the **** said i need to feel and contain it with words? this?! this is an auxiliary expressing the bombast and barrage that's thinking! do i ******* look like a woman, that i need to stress fee-fee-feeling?! if you want a soppy story, take that story to the soap factory, and tell that world war two joke while you're at it; oh y'ah but i'm no quentin t. to get away with it, am i? question: but if i'm off my nuts, numb-skulled by some ***** and talking the necessary drunk jargon? well... ain't it always: in vino veritas?! ****... tis noot ween! romans lacked sense of *****... ah! fire! water! apache guru sacred fox chief **** in the wind, said: in ignisaqua, veritas, duplex veritas! that time when you start seeing double... ha ha! ******, am i underwater or is this just a very, very, very very... very, bad choke... joke?
          oh yeah, that   ...    is actually a hiccup.

i don't know about you,
but i find that
these western "genuises"
have incorporated
claustrophobia
   into the realm of cartesian
orientation (let alone
investigation) -
i don't know how this "meme"
managed to incline itself
into a spiderweb
as a cannibalistic spider -
but, **** me!
it has...
       i used to love thinking -
it was a bit like the love
of drinking a pint of milk
after school...
  these days?
        let's just say i feel
like wearing a 32 inch waist
pair of jeans, and i have
a 36 inch waist...
  and what happens, when
that sort of situation arises?
well...
     there's only one way to
combat cognitive "claustrophobia":
you spew...
   you branch out,
you write little notices that
don't rhyme and have no
orthodox semblance to speak of
to be denoted as: "poetry"...
how can people just not use
such a medium to beat this
******* up?!
what i've learned i've learned good:
but these western propagandists
and the already insinuated
"geniuses" really have their
***** in a toaster and their *****
in the fridge...
               looking for hot *****
of fertility, and a cool hard-on...
i'm not joking...
   i'm going cuckoo up my ***
thinking:
  might as well act as a cave
          so i might hear an echo...
they already destroyed the poetics
of a sea-shell with their
******* science-this, science-that...
next thing you know we'll be
talking to mountains to crumble
into deserts...
   mind you... don't you think
that the sahara was once akin
to the himilayan mountain
range? well... we've got enough time
to ponder that one...
       i think so...
i think that what is not sahara
used to be a grand mountain range...
and you know:
   thinking that...
    my so-called cognitive
   "claustrophobia"? it becomes a stress
free zone, while thinking
    about getting *harambe drunk;
for some reason i always wanted
to see a drunk monkey...
   a cat on l.s.d.? that's just plain
sadistic... but a drunk monkey?
i always wanted to see a drunk
monkey.